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Chapter Text

And all you see are the cards that you can play

And you thought you’d get away with these games

And all you see are the cards there in your hand

And you thought that you had everything planned

– Feint ft. CoMa, “Snake Eyes”

I

It was said that a first-time visitor to Maiami City could master the game of Duel Monsters faster by watching a complete stranger play it than by learning the rules on their own. So prevalent was the sport here that the sprawling metropolis had been called the Dueling capital of the world.

No other location in Japan had so many places for kids and adults alike to pick up their Decks and challenge each other for reasons big and small. Passersby would often pause in their goings-on for a few minutes to enjoy the visual spectacle of someone’s latest and greatest combination of cards that, in some way or another, would eventually seal the win. Playing arenas that could have passed for tennis courts, so similar in shape and size were they, were as commonplace here as parks and plazas—and the more advanced of these could be outfitted with the latest in Solid Vision holographic technology, creating battlefields that explored every dimension of the creator’s imagination, from the whimsical to the sinister—or, in the case of the battlefield in which the teenaged boy was currently sitting off to one side, they could call on equal parts of both.

To call Sweets Island a dentist’s worst nightmare would have been flattery. The Action Field—so named because Duelists could traverse its holographic terrain to gain tactical advantages in their battles—was a literal island of candies, pastries, and all manner of foods that would send most parents sprinting for the nearest tube of toothpaste. Gingerbread houses, large enough to function as actual houses, lined a wide stripe of chocolate that could have passed for a two-way street. Flans and jellies of every color imaginable sprouted either side like so many bushes, atop sheets of frosting so purely white that only the oddness of the surrounding landscape kept it from being confused with freshly fallen snow. Even the clouds that drifted lazily across the sunny sky had just enough of a pinkish tint to give them away as cotton candy.

Not one of them had drifted across the sun, however—which meant that Sakuragi Yū, sitting astride a particularly large and cushiony gumdrop, had to study the device in his lap with a hand to his forehead the whole time, to compensate for the glare. Slim, sturdy fingers idly brushed lavender bangs to the left of his face; while it was cooler than the sunny skies suggested, he’d been out here for long enough that his brow was beginning to feel sweaty.

At seventeen, Yū was one of the oldest and most experienced students in the Leo Duel School—which was itself the most respected Duel School in Japan, and arguably the whole world by extension. Just last year, he’d been crowned the Junior Youth Champion in the city’s annual tournament, the Maiami Championship. He hadn’t had nearly this much luck in Youth Division earlier this month—which wasn’t to say he’d crashed out; the bizarre turn this year’s competition had taken simply meant it had been canceled before he could have a chance to truly defend his title.

Yū had been present for most of those strange happenings—he’d even Dueled some of the soldiers from another dimension, who’d invaded the city that day. He didn’t like talking about it afterward, though—he’d put on such a poor showing against those that a small part of him had been thankful for the broadcast being cut short before things had really gone south. To his relief, however, the announcement his headmistress had made around the world had put everything in perspective—and helped drive out much of the shame from his mind.

He sighed, content despite the continuing glare from his Duel Disk as he continued to take in the information spilling across its rectangular screen.

“Turn end!” squeaked a voice off to his left just then, breaking his concentration.

Youth-level students of the Leo Duel School such as Yū were encouraged—and implicitly expected—to take some time out of their day to function as tutors to younger boys and girls who were either starting to dip their toes into the wide world of Duel Monsters—or had otherwise caught the eye of the prestigious school for reasons known to only the powerful woman who headed it. Whatever their age and experience, the aim was the same: to keep the most popular sport in the world flourishing so that the next generation could enjoy it as much as the current one did. And even though the two students Yū was currently observing were an odd pair on the surface, he had been tutoring them for long enough to realize that promising talent lay within them both—and, he privately thought, to enjoy the notion of finally letting that talent loose on the world when the time came.

One of them was the girl who had just ended her turn. Okaski Kaede was tiny, even for ten years old, and looked more like the poster child for a Sweet Lolita fashion catalog than any serious Duelist. Dustings of makeup and blush had been meticulously applied around the light blue eyes that dominated her pale, round face, while the lacy frills of her white gown—as expansive as it looked expensive—were almost as much so as her blonde hair, styled into twin bunches almost the size of the head they were attached to, and almost wider from tip to tip than the girl was tall.

Beneath this cutesy exterior, however, was the mind of an unexpected prodigy of Duel Monsters—from a no less unexpected source. For Kaede hailed from the Cuisine Duel School, known for producing many more chefs and cooking personalities than it did Duelists of any caliber—and yet she’d claimed that Mokota Michio, universally considered the school’s best student in both Dueling and cooking alike until his untimely fate at the Championship, had implied she was an even better Duelist than he. It turned out this ran in the family: Kaede’s grandmother had been one of the first alumnae of the institution; after graduating, she’d opened a small but popular pâtisserie in the city where Yū would often meet the little girl for their twice-weekly sessions.

A slightly nasally rasp, off to his right, reached his ears. “My turn—draw!”

Kaede’s opponent was her polar opposite in almost every way. Less than a year’s difference in age was about the only thing she had in common with Yashiki Yūrei, the boy that Yū had been tutoring along with her. Where Kaede hadn’t yet hit her growth spurt, Yūrei’s had arrived early; he stood a full foot taller, and the heavy black boots he wore made him seem taller still. Where her outfit bloomed and blossomed, his hugged and stretched; the boy’s long, two-tone hair—each purple-and-pink strand either spiked and slicked in blades over his brow or tied back in the beginnings of a ponytail—wobbled and twitched with the slightest puff of wind, while the studded leather pants and faded graphic tee that constituted his clothing clung tightly to his skin despite his already wiry frame.

And where Kaede was chatty, energetic, and not a little bit impulsive, Yūrei was a self-proclaimed prankster. He was very quiet for his age and size when he wanted to be, and he sometimes liked to use that to his advantage by sneaking up on random people, waiting until they dropped their guard—before either going “Boo!” to make them jump in the air, or waiting to see how long it took before they noticed him. Yū had admonished him on that in the past; not every random person in Maiami City liked having the pants scared off them for a laugh, particularly after what had happened during the Championship.

But Yūrei was a student at the Wight School, a small Duel School that Yū knew very little about; few of its pupils, if any at all, had been sent to represent the school in that tournament. All he’d been able to glean was that deceptively weak monsters were favored within its walls—along with a taste for the strange and macabre that flew in the face of most social graces (which, he had to presume, included knowing when not to play pranks). More than once he’d found Yūrei with his headphones perched atop his gelled hair, blasting music at what he could only assume was the loudest volume they could handle. What little of said music he could make out had been enough for him to suppress a cringe; Yū had no interest in heavy metal, Japanese or otherwise.

Today, however, Yūrei had replaced his headphones with a stick of gum; the bubble he’d been blowing now burst on his lips as his gray eyes gazed intently across his field at Kaede, studying everything he’d done up to this point.

So was Yū; the Duel Disk in his lap had been in “observer mode” for the entire Duel so far, allowing him to analyze a battle without interfering in its progression. This particular battle had been back-and-forth for a few turns now, with no clear winner in sight. Kaede had the edge in field advantage—with all five zones on her field being occupied by a monster—but all five of those monsters were also face-down, as evidenced by the skull-like formations of barbed wire floating above each one, and couldn’t be flipped face-up until her next turn.

At 1600 Life Points out of her original 4000, she also had the edge there, too; Yūrei’s LP counter was a scant 500, and the two monsters he had on his field didn’t look ready to protect what little life he had left: one, a silly-looking, sheet-over-the-head-style ghost (Level 1: ATK 600/DEF 0) bobbed in the air like a balloon. Its companion, an equally cartoony snowman wrapped in a scarf, didn’t look much more threatening (Level 1: ATK 800/DEF 100).

But Yū knew appearances didn’t count for beans in Duel Monsters. Even the silliest of monster designs could conceal the most devastating of effects; all too often, new Duelists would find the most terrifying dragons, demons, and machines they could Summon stopped in their tracks by plants, animals and fairies that didn’t look like they could hurt a fly. He could count on both Kaede and Yūrei to remind him of this, every time they Dueled; it was one reason why the two of them were perhaps the most promising students he’d yet tutored—and certainly the ones he enjoyed tutoring the most.

The LDS student pulled himself back into the battle; the way Yūrei was smirking told him he’d drawn a good card just now. “I activate the Field Spell: Ghostrick House!” he exclaimed in a slightly nasally rasp. “And then, using my Level 1 Ghostrick Specter and Ghostrick Frost”—he indicated both monsters in front and either side of him—“I construct the Overlay Network!”

Several things happened then: first, the gingerbread houses lining the street on which the two kids were Dueling squirmed in their foundations, as though shaking themselves apart. And sure enough, pieces of them were falling off, shattering on the frosted ground; within seconds, each house now sported a grotesque face with a leering grin.

The sky seemed to darken; more clouds had appeared over the high sun. But it was impossible to say whether they’d appeared as a result of the houses’ unsettling transformation—or by way of the galaxy of colorful lights and stars that had just blossomed between the two Duelists. Vivid purple energy lined both of Yūrei’s monsters, Frost and Spectre, before the vortex in their midst sucked them both inside:

“Fallen knight of a bygone age!” chanted Yūrei. “With your fearsome blade, ride out into battle!”

“Xyz Summon! Come forth from the shadows! Rank 1! Ghostrick Dullahan!”

Something billowing and black hurtled out of the mass of stars, dispelling it into nothingness before it had even touched the ground. That writhing mass of black now became a cape, adorning the shoulders of a headless knight astride a red-eyed white horse, its severed armored helm tucked securely under the crook of his free arm. It bore the same childishly exaggerated proportions of the two monsters that had gone into creating it, and perhaps this explained its point gauge (Rank 1: ATK 1000/DEF 0; ORU 2)—but it also looked just intimidating enough that Yū could forgive Kaede suddenly looking so apprehensive.

“Ghostrick Dullahan’s effect lets it gain 200 ATK for each Ghostrick card on the field—including itself!” Yūrei said with a smirk, watching that same gauge balloon to 1800 ATK courtesy of the House in his Field Zone, and a pair of Traps he also controlled as well. “Then, my Ghostrick House’s effect! Everyone’s monsters can attack directly if their opponent doesn’t have any face-up monsters, but all damage is halved!”

His smirk grew wider. “Unless it comes from a Ghostrick monster!”

“Huh?!” Even in her surprise, Kaede had taken a step back—something Yū would have been blind not to notice. Her round face had deflated like a loaf of bread in the oven that hadn’t quite risen all the way, and she visibly gulped as she eyed the Xyz Monster pawing the ground.

“And you know what that means,” sniggered Yūrei. “Battle Phase! Ghostrick Dullahan—attack Kaede’s Life Points directly!”

He stabbed out with a finger—“Skull-Severing Slash!”—and Dullahan charged forward with an echoing whinny from its steed, drawing a sword that looked a lot more threatening than its cartoonish size let on. Kaede took one look at the weapon and did the only sensible thing a Duelist in her position could have done.

She ran.

This was more by design than a first-time visitor to Maiami City might have realized. The Action Field they were battling in was not the only reason that an Action Duel was set apart from a regular Duel; players were encouraged to use the terrain to not only fight, but to defend themselves. For scattered throughout it were dozens, if not hundreds, of Action Cards—unique spells that appeared at the start of every Action Duel, and could be played at almost any time. Their effects were often simple, but their implications meant that even the most hopeless of situations could be reversed—if the Duelist picked the right one.

Kaede, it seemed, had found one such card—but her choice in fashion had ultimately betrayed her. The white shoes she wore under her gown slipped on one of the chocolate-chip cookies serving as a stepping-stone for one of the houses, and she tumbled to the ground with a squeak in a tangle of limbs and lace.

She only managed one more squeak before Dullahan was upon her, striking her right between the shoulders with the flat of his blade. The force of the blow sent Kaede ponytails over petticoats, landing upside down in a mound of pink frosting heaped atop a cupcake the size of a small car—before sinking up to her waist in the supersized dessert.

As if to emphasize the ignominy of her situation, the pale pink Duel Disk on her left wrist—its butter-yellow blade still glinting in the sun—was issuing a long, squealing tone, somewhat muffled under the huge pastry. Dullahan’s attack had reduced Kaede’s Life Points to zero, making Yūrei the winner of the Duel.

The victorious boy punched the air in delight. “All right!” he whooped.

With the battle now concluded, Dullahan disappeared, and the sugary surroundings of Sweets Island with it. The complex holographic imaging and interactive software that made the Action Field possible now deactivated, revealing one of the city’s many Dueling courts, bathed in the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun.

The source of the shadows was the monolithic form of the Leo Duel School itself: the tallest building in Maiami City—and arguably, the sole reason for its prosperity. No other Duel School had revolutionized the game of Duel Monsters so thoroughly; under the stewardship of the Akaba family, and with the technology and financial backing of the Leo Corporation they owned as well, it had branched out around the world to expand that revolution, absorbing school after school in what could almost—almost—be called a monopoly over the sport.

Yū got to his feet at last, shutting off his Duel Disk. “Great job, Yūrei!” he said approvingly. “That was loads better than the last Duel. I really think you’re starting to get the hang of this new combo of yours now.”

This earned a breathless chuckle from Yūrei as the bright purple blade of his own Duel Disk was cleared of cards, before retreating into its polished silver surface. “Thanks, Yū,” he replied with a smile. “I’m just glad I got all the cards I needed in my hand so quickly.”

He exhaled, his breathing shaky, clearly still giddy from the adrenaline rush of his latest victory. “But man—I can’t wait to see what everyone else at school thinks of this for my exam next week!”

A crestfallen Kaede shuffled up to the pair just then. She was clean as a whistle—the mess of frosting she’d been sent into had only been Solid Vision, and thus had disappeared with the rest of the field. But she was clearly upset; the little girl was smoothing out the many ruffles of her dress only absentmindedly. Yū heard her faintly sniff, and instantly turned his attention to the little girl.

“Hey—don’t look so down,” he soothed her. “You’ve been doing really well yourself today. Your last Duel before this one was probably the best I’ve seen from you since we started doing this together.” He smiled reassuringly. “We all have our off days, Kaede; the best we can do after times like that is to dust ourselves off and try again.”

“That’s not why I’m sad, Yū-sensei.” He felt something inside him cringe in half at the honorific, but let Kaede continue on. “I just wish I could’ve eaten that cupcake.”

Yū blinked. “What cupcake?”

“The one Yūrei’s monster knocked me into.” She hid her face, blushing furiously at the sight of her mentor trying his hardest not to laugh. “After the Duel, before Sweets Island shut down, I … might’ve tried to … eat my way out of it … ”

Her stomach suddenly let fly with a rumble that made the delicate lace of her dress shudder. “Phooey,” she pouted. “Now I’m even more hungry.”

Yū felt a stitch growing in his chest from the amount of laughter he was holding back. The mental image of Kaede chomping her way through giant desserts Pac-Man style was too much for him. Through some herculean effort, he managed to swallow his mirth—though not without taking a few deep breaths just to be sure.

“You’re better off, Kaede,” he eventually managed to say. “That stuff would just be empty calories even if it was real. A hologram would just be empty space in your tummy. So if you had tried to eat all that, you’d just feel even more starving than you are now.”

He checked his Duel Disk. The numbers he saw on the screen made his eyebrows jump right into his hair. “Wow—okay, that Duel went on for longer than I thought, kids,” he said. “We’ll have to call it a day from here before your families get worried.”

He was staring at the downcast Kaede as he said this, and so did not see the expression on Yūrei’s face in full; only that it looked every bit as disheartened as she did at the end of another successful day of Dueling.

He shut off his Duel Disk at length, then folded up the device and slid it into his pocket. “You want me to walk you to the bus stop again?”

“Actually, can we go back to my grandma’s place?” Kaede piped up. “You still haven’t met her yet, Yū-sensei”—he fought the urge to cringe again—“and she’s really been wanting to meet you ever since I told her about my lessons with you!”

The stress in the “really” told Yū what was coming next—and he really didn’t want to look at her to find out for himself—but that didn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Sure enough, Kaede’s bright blue eyes had gone wide and innocent—like a tiny kitten that had just realized for the first time in its life how mighty a weapon its gaze could be, and had sworn in its tiny kitten mind to never use this awesome power for evil intent again … at least, for about ten seconds.

And ten seconds was about all it took to crumble Yū’s defenses. “Eh—sure, why not?” he shrugged, and Kaede cheered. “How does that sound, Yūrei?”

“Sure!” The boy’s reply was almost immediate—perhaps even too much so—but Yū paid it little mind. “Y-yeah,” Yūrei stammered, perhaps catching himself, “it’d be great to stay there again … ”

“Just don’t play your music in there too loud!” Kaede said bossily, sticking her tongue out at Yūrei as they turned to leave the Dueling court. “I had nightmares for a week after you showed me that creepy ‘Darren Gray’ video!”

“That’s Dir En Grey!” retorted Yūrei. “And that was only the one time—!”

“Kids—kids!” Yū held up his hands in an attempt to stave off the bickering. He’d been lucky to do so when they’d just started; experience had told him this. Both children now stared attentively at him, waiting for him to go on.

“Look—I’ll walk you both to your grandma’s, Kaede,” he said, “but I can’t promise I’ll stay for long. I do go to LDS, remember.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the crystalline skyscraper that dwarfed them. “They expect a lot of me here. I’ll say goodbye to you there—and I’ll wish you luck on your exam before I take off, Yūrei—but I won’t be able to see you again until our next session.”

Eventually, the kids acquiesced, though not without a pair of equally subdued “Okays”—but Yū didn’t worry too much. He’d grown to know them well enough that they’d be their usual selves by the time they got inside.

“It’s close to sunset,” he said to them. “We should get a move on before it gets dark.”

They left the Dueling arena then, so intent on beating both time and traffic that they didn’t bother to pay close attention to the shrubs lining the court—or to entertain the possibility that they might be just big enough to hide a truth from their eyes that would change their lives forever.

As has been said, the game of Duel Monsters is so prevalent in Maiami City that a first-time visitor is far more likely to master the game faster by watching a complete stranger play it, instead of by learning the rules on their own.

But Duel Monsters is more than a card game, where victory depends on who summons which monsters, casts which spells—or even who sets which traps. The most successful of Duelists do not simply focus on playing the game, but the opponent playing the game instead. To know the thoughts and habits of the Duelist, and being able to read them and act accordingly, has proven time and again a strategy more intimate and more devastating than any combination of cards the game has ever produced.

The figure hiding in the bushes, his dark clothing camouflaging him perfectly against the shadows on the wall, knew this to be true—all too well. And so he watched the three children cross the street, content to let them go. He’d catch up with them soon enough.

He kept on watching until they disappeared in the throngs of cars and crowds of the evening rush—and then, with a whirl of his black cloak, he’d disappeared as well.

Chapter Text

II

Kaede’s parents were often out of town on business. According to her, they worked for a very big tire firm based in France—she was an inspector, he a writer. Exactly what that had to do with food—or even if it had anything to do with food at all—Yū wasn’t certain; Kaede often bemoaned that her parents were particularly reluctant to discuss the details of what she did for her job, even with her. All she knew was that they were home for perhaps once every other weekend before suddenly being whisked away on a plane flight—anywhere from Sendai and Fukuoka to Seoul and Shanghai. This meant that Kaede saw her grandmother more often than her mother and father—which in turn meant that the modest, pastel-colored flat above her grandmother’s shop had become her home away from home.

On the outside, Kazue’s Puzzling Pâtisserie didn’t look like the first reason why kids and young families were so often seen in this part of town. That honor was shared by a toy store two doors down, an indoor play place across the street, and—Maiami City being Maiami City—an independently-owned comic-and-card shop that catered to first-time players, kids, or just anyone who preferred to play Duel Monsters in a much simpler environment, with less competitive conditions. All three, with their bright colors and flashing lights, looked more likely to draw the eye of anyone who hadn’t reached the age of ten than the pale yellows, pinks, and blues that Kaede’s grandmother had used to paint both the edifice of her shop and her upstairs dwelling.

But the trick to her success was twofold, explained Okashi Kazue to Yū as she laid out a place with three more of her signature millefeuille énigmes—cut out in the jigsaw-puzzle-piece shape that had put her store on the city map.

“Tell me about this one, Yū-chan.” She pointed to the nearest pastry with a gnarled finger. “Could you describe it to me? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

She winked, and Yū smiled. He knew even before then that the kindly old woman was lying through her teeth—or perhaps just the one tooth, in Kazue’s case—but he indulged her anyway.

“Well, there’s a strawberry on the top,” he started, letting his eyes travel downward, then around the confection. “Looks like chocolate and … blackcurrant jelly?” He looked to Kaede for confirmation; the Cuisine Duelist nodded back, unable to say anything through the pastry she was currently demolishing with gusto. “Drizzled over the fondant glaze, right … dusting of powdered sugar for garnish and—ouch!”

He yelped as Kazue rapped him on the forehead with her index and middle finger. “What was that for?”

Kaede’s grandmother was the picture of innocence. “I’m sorry, did you say something? I stopped listening after you mentioned the strawberry.”

Before Yū could respond to that, something flashed in her eye, and the LDS Duelist immediately bit back his words.

“It’s always the little things that we remember,” Kazue told him. “It’s the details that stick in our minds—those little bits of color in the black and white of everything we do everyday. That’s why the strawberry was the first thing you described to me—because it was the first thing you noticed. But most people,” she said, raising a finger, “don’t often realize that the little thing for one person might not be so little for another.”

Yū thought he understood. “People stop by here so they can unwind and have a treat while their kids play,” he guessed. The relative lack of vivid colors was much more relaxing than the hustle and bustle of a playground, he thought. “But they’re so preoccupied with their own lives that they don’t really think about what goes into that treat? Or even how this place got made?”

Kazue tilted her head quizzically. “You’re not making any sense at all,” she wheezed with an impish grin.

“Obāchan?” A twenty-something woman had just come up to them. Cradled in one arm was a tiny girl no older than three who had to be her daughter. Immediately, Kazue had turned to beam dotingly at the pair.

“Well, if it isn’t Aimi and Aiko-tan!” she gasped in mock surprise. “Are you feeling better now?”

Aiko nodded shyly. “I saw you with her after she skinned her elbow in the bouncy castle across the street,” Aimi explained. “So I told her I’d let her buy a snack here before we headed home—because I knew she’d want to see you one more time.” Then, to the child, “Say ‘thank you’, Aiko!”

Aiko, blushing furiously, burbled something that kids her age might have thought sufficed for polite thanks, and hid her face in Aimi’s shoulder just as quickly. Yūrei was seen to pull a face of disgust at the overly cutesy display.

Both women, however, didn’t notice, and even Yū felt a smile curling round his cheeks at the display. “Oh—well, you’re very welcome,” said Kazue warmly, as mother and daughter turned to leave. “Bye-bye, now!

“And that’s it,” she said after turning back to Yū. “That right there is my so-called secret to success.”

This, however, raised yet more questions for the LDS Duelist. “The play place?” Kazue nodded. “What were you doing over there? You’ll forgive me if I can’t see you bouncing off the walls with a bunch of kids,” he joked.

“Think about what you just heard,” said the old woman, still smiling. “Don’t you think that woman was a little too old to be calling me obāchan?”

Yū thought. “I guess,” he conceded. “Especially since I know your only grandchild is sitting right across from me.” He nodded to Kaede. “But I don’t see what any of that has to do with what you were saying to me earlier.”

Kazue grinned. “The secret to life isn’t the little things in life,” she said. “It’s being the little things in someone else’s life.” She looked to Yū’s pastry. “Underneath the details—under all that garnish and glaze—is the same old millefeuille I’ve been making since I was Aimi’s age. I can pretty it up as much as I want, I can go out of my way to make sure no two of my énigmes are the same. But, like they say in America—‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.”

Yū remembered that Kazue had called her success twofold. “What’s the other part, then?”

The grin got wider. Yū could almost see the one remaining tooth behind the aged lips. “I just told you.” Kazue leaned in close, as if to confide a great secret. “I’m Kaede’s obāchan. But,” she added, “that doesn’t mean I can’t be everyone else’s obāchan.”

She cackled and creaked as she saw the look of enlightenment dawn upon Yū’s face. “There’s nothing more to it than that?” asked the boy. “You’re just … there? At the play place, the card shop—everywhere on the street?”

“Nothing brings in business like an old geezer with a smile on her face, a spring in her step, and a spark in her eye,” Kazue said sagely. “It’s the kind of marketing that money can’t buy—and it’s why I’m glad you’re the one who’s my granddaughter’s Dueling tutor. Because sooner or later, those two kids are going to be a part of the very first class you teach; I’ll wager my last tooth on it. Oh, yes—you’ve got the same smile, spring, and spark as Kaede’s father did, when he and my daughter had their first date here. Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday … ”

She closed her eyes wistfully—and then abruptly clapped Yū on the shoulder. “So I think you’ll make for a wonderful teacher. And a handsome one, too,” she added with a wheezy giggle, “if I say so myself.”

Yū felt his cheeks turn rosy at the compliment. “Oh, um—thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his suddenly warm neck. “But I think I’ve got a long way to go before the kids on the block start calling me Ojīchan.” He privately amended that he’d rather they not; it was embarrassing enough that Kaede called him her sensei. The notion of twenty more kids her age calling him the same thing made him shudder.

But the mischievous wink Kazue passed at him told him it might be too late already. “If I have my way,” she grinned, “I’ll live long enough to make sure that name sticks. Isn’t that right?”

She’d looked to Kaede and Yūrei, the latter of whom looked so far out of place in the pastel paint scheme of the bakery’s interior that it boggled belief. Both kids, however, were already trading wicked grins; they’d heard every word, and had every intention of carrying out Kazue’s wish.

Yū was saved by the beeping alarm of his Duel Disk—it was high time he got home. “Hey, I’ve got to head back and rest up,” he told his pupils. “You sure you’ll be fine here by yourselves for a little longer?”

“Sure!” Kaede’s face was almost nothing but smile. “My grandma has a bonus room upstairs that she decorated like my room back home! I can lock Yūrei inside and make him look at all the girly things in there!” she teased.

“Don’t even joke about that.” An eyebrow twitched beneath Yūrei’s gelled hair. “I wouldn’t lock you in my room. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Kaede stuck out her tongue. “I bet I wouldn’t even be able to see in your room,” she guffawed. “What’d you do—paint it black and spooky like all those bands you listen to?”

“A-a-and heading off now.” Yū hurriedly excused himself before the two children really started to bicker. “Do me a favor?” he said to Kazue on the way out. “Make sure they don’t get too into it. I know kids like to argue, but I don’t want them to take it too far. Last thing I want is one of their Duel Monsters blowing a hole in your ceiling.”

Kazue was still grinning. “Let them try,” she winked back. “Kaede didn’t learn everything from you, after all.”

Yū wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure him—but reassured he felt, and so he departed the shop then, waving goodbye to Kaede and Yūrei, feeling much more lighthearted than he had all of last week.

That feeling, unfortunately, lasted all of sixty seconds.

The sun had set by now, and the last of the crowds were beginning to depart the street. Yū caught a glimpse of the last few stragglers leaving the play place across from Kazue’s pâtisserie, pleading with their mothers to take them back again tomorrow. The kids reminded him of his own pupils, and he smiled again as he set off into the night.

Very soon, however, the smile had melted off his face like vapor against a window. Some sixth sense was tapping at his inside of Yū’s brain—a sense he’d only recently begun to develop after his unfortunate experience at the Maiami Championship. He slowed his pace gradually, stopped—turned around … but no one was behind him save for the night’s last passersby. Several of them were giving him strange looks at having stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Yū hastily moved out of their way.

The yellow glow of a storefront window—a toy store, he now saw, and one he often passed by on his way to and from tutoring sessions—shone from right in front of him like an invite to sanctuary. He recognized the giant bisque doll that was always propped up in the window’s centerpiece—almost a dead ringer for Kaede herself, if the Cuisine Duelist had been a foot or so shorter.

He stood there for a while, his eyes staring ahead without really seeing anything. Perhaps it was just a false alarm, Yū thought to himself. Paranoia. He shook his head, and backed away from the window—

—when all of a sudden the light from within shut off, plunging Yū into surprising darkness. The store must just have closed, he guessed; he could see the faintest hint of a figure moving away from the door, deeper into the store, and disappear up some stairs that he supposed led to a residence. Within seconds the silhouetted form was lost to sight against the hustle and bustle of the city’s gathering nightlife, mirrored in the darkened window—

Wait.

If his eyes hadn’t been trying to follow the would-be owner of the toy store, Yū might have missed it completely. But as they’d been attempting to trace the motions of all the reflections moving past him, he’d noticed something standing quite still, on the other side of the street, where the crosswalk was—almost directly behind him, just visible above his right shoulder. Against the glow of the streetlamps turning on, it looked misshapen and black, like a trash bag left on the curb for pickup. But the shape was too big … too broad … it was almost like—

It moved—only a fraction. But it was enough for Yū’s sixth sense to sound off in alarm again. That something was definitely someone; he’d seen the top of the bag peel back just slightly enough to make out a sliver of face beneath. He could see where the cloak concealed the shoulders, now—they were turned either side of him, broad and muscly even underneath the loose-fitting clothing.

Looking right at him.

But he wasn’t close—he was still on the other side of the street, and Yū took that to heart as he forced himself away from the window, and down the sidewalk again. He’d picked his pace up slightly; he didn’t want to entertain any more dark thoughts about the dark figure he’d seen—

Someone collided with him—or had Yū collided with someone? All of a sudden, he was flat on his back, but just as quickly hauling himself back to his feet, apologizing profusely to whomever he’d run into. But in doing so, he’d turned towards the crosswalk—and froze.

The figure was gone.

Where was he? Was he still there—had he turned away and left? Or had …

The LDS Duelist, already short of breath, felt the oxygen crystallize in his throat—was that a ripple of black heading towards him?

run

At breakneck speed, Yū plowed headlong into the flow of pedestrian traffic. Men, women, and children gasped and muttered as he sprinted past them with a stream of hasty apologies, jostling them enough that he hoped they would cover his tracks for long enough that he could get help—now it was just a matter of how far away he could hide—

There! The dimming light was just enough that he saw the alleyway off to his right—a mere crack in the wall against the buildings that flanked it. He took a deep breath, waded into one last knot of passersby—he was in!

But Yū did not celebrate for very long. He spent a long, dangerous second to take a deep breath—and then he was going further inside, past rubbish bins and sluices still wet with runoff, swallowed up by the gathering darkness of nightfall. Yet he had no intention of hiding in here until the man in the cloak—could he be one of those invaders? he wondered; he hadn’t seen anything about him to suggest it yet—finally tired of looking for him. If he was an invader, then he probably wasn’t alone. It was harder to hide from a group than it was a single person.

So Yū, his fingers fumbling, took out his Duel Disk—but just as quickly, he was suddenly posed with an unexpected question: who to even call? The police were the most obvious choice—but were they trained and equipped enough to handle even one Duelist of the caliber he’d faced during the Championship? Would he contact his fellow Duelists to ensure he had reinforcements, if indeed there was more than one person tailing him? Or was there any use for either? What use would there be, he pondered, if he called on strength in numbers to deal with someone who—for all he knew—was more likely to be a misguided, run-of-the-mill stalker?

He jumped; the sounds in this alleyway—the dripping of water, his own footsteps, seemed magnified tenfold in the narrow space, and all the more for the darkness that robbed him of all sense of direction. There was nothing for it—Yū decided then to take the risk, and call the police.

The LDS Duelist was halfway through dialing 119 when he promptly got the shock of his life: the Duel Disk’s blade suddenly came to life; a violet-colored chevron shape that hovered across his left forearm, like the edge of an axe.

His first, foolish thought was to wonder what had happened—Yū hadn’t even pushed the button to activate his Duel Disk like this! But reason returned an instant later—followed swiftly by a growing sense of dread; he had the distinct impression that he’d been forced into a Duel. His worst suspicions were immediately confirmed.

“Who’s there?” The question echoed in the alley, fortunately masking the tremor in his voice, and making him sound more authoritative than he was feeling right now. He hoped that was enough—but that hope was promptly squashed scant moments later.

“Kaede, Okashi.”

… What?

As with his own voice, the husky rasp that spoke back was amplified many times over by the acoustics of the tiny space—but where Yū had heard a bravery to his words that didn’t exist in him at all, here it had been transformed into a menacing, and slightly metallic growl. Accounting for the distortion of the space, he guessed whoever this was had to be a young man—late teens, maybe early in college, judging by the low, resonant pitch of his words.

It was the words themselves, however, which confused Yū. How did this person know the name of his own pupil?

“Kaede, Okashi,” spoke his pursuer again. “Cuisine Duel School, Junior Division. Madolche Deck supports monster self-recovery and survivability. Bypass inherent trigger effects. Defeat is imminent.”

Yū turned around in a full circle, trying to let his eyes adjust to the pitch-black darkness. “Yūrei, Yashiki,” the voice rumbled. “Wight School, Junior Division. Ghostrick Deck favors stall tactics and field manipulation. Hinder field and backrow support. Defeat is imminent.”

The LDS Duelist felt his breath catch in his mouth as the weight of the words he was hearing sank in. This boy was casually name-dropping not only the pupils he was tutoring—pupils who were kids just over ten years old, the minimum age for most Duel Schools to accept new students—but also their Decks, the strategies they used, the weaknesses of them both … and most disturbing of all, where they went to school to learn about Dueling with them.

Whoever this person was, Yū now knew he had to be extremely dangerous. How long had he been tailing him, he wondered, to know this information? Had—a dull thud reverberated in the bowels of his stomach at the unsettling thought—had he been tailing Kaede and Yūrei as well? Did he know not only where they went to school, but also where they lived?

“What do you want?!” he demanded, feeling his voice pulse with anger. “You’ve got five seconds to talk before I call the police!”

“That won’t help you.” Something about the suddenness and dismissiveness of the young man’s reply suggested that he’d anticipated that course of action. “Yū, Sakuragi. Leo Duel School Xyz Circuit, Youth Division. Magical-Spellbook Deck combines multiple Spells and Spellcasters to control the field. Hybrid construction betrays minimal weakness; employ overwhelming force. Defeat is imminent.”

A new noise echoed in the alleyway, a sort of high-pitched, mechanical snarl. Yū had no trouble recognizing the sound of a freshly activated Duel Disk.

He turned in a circle again, looking all over for the colored light of an active blade, but none could be seen. Either the darkness of the alleyway was so consuming that it had been snuffed out, or this man knew the place well enough that he’d chosen a good hiding place. The latter was concerning; it implied that Yū hadn’t found his way here of his own volition—that he’d merely been cleverly lured into the narrow confines of the alley, like a rat in a maze.

“I’ll make this simple for you, Sakuragi Yū,” hissed the man. “Your Duel Disk is being jammed, and I have eyes on your only way out. One way or another, the only way you’re leaving this alley is through me. So—tell me where Yūto is, and I might just let you skip what’s coming.”

Yūto? Yū shook his head, though he knew the man couldn’t possibly see it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he cried out. “I don’t know who that is—I’ve never heard that name in my life!” He’d heard a name like it, to be sure—recently, too. But Sakaki Yūya was an entirely different person from whoever this Yūto character was. Maybe this man had been looking for Yūya instead, and he’d just gotten his name wrong?

“I think you’re lying.” The man’s voice was accusing. “I know he came here. And I know he didn’t come alone. So where’s his partner?” he demanded. “Where is Kurosaki Shun?”

Yū blinked. That name he recognized—but it only made the man’s questions all the more confusing. “No idea,” he said truthfully. “I know who he is—but he’s with the Lancers now. They’ve left the city—I don’t know where.”

There was a long pause. “The Lancers … ” The two words, hissed under a long, sibilant whisper, were almost indistinguishable from the pitter-patter of runoff that trickled down a nearby gutter. Some of the menace had disappeared, now; if Yū didn’t know better, he might have thought his answer hadn’t even been expected.

Which could only mean … “You’re … not from around here, are you?” Yū said hesitantly.

He had said the wrong thing. “I’m asking the questions here!!” bellowed the voice. It took a long moment before the echoes of the shout had completely dissipated from the alley; by the time they had, Yū’s unknown pursuer was speaking again.

“Okay—you’re not being cooperative.” Every direction exhaled a long, rattling sigh. “I’d hoped we could do this the easy way—but I guess we get to do it my favorite way after all.”

Something hurtled down from directly ahead—exactly the same shape and size as Yū’s Duel Disk blade, bright scarlet rather than his dark violet, and illuminating very little of its owner on account of the continually hungry darkness. It alighted a little over a meter above the ground, then raised itself a little higher than that, tilting until the holographic edge turned directly to him—like a sword ready to strike for the kill. Yū, in a moment of realization, knew then that this man wasn’t much taller than he was—six feet and change, he guessed.

Then, a moment later, as if a switch had been flicked in his brain, all other thought was dispelled. Five cards were in his hand, the display of his Duel Disk brightened, and both combatants snarled, “Let’s go! DUEL!”

On the other side of the city, deep under the ground floor of the most prestigious Duel School in the world, a young technician did a double take as the computer screen in front of her flared with telemetry.

She studied the wealth of digital information that streamed in every direction like a spider’s web, and repeated it all to her supervisor with the practiced cadence of experience: a Duel is in progress in Sector SE-16 … LDS student Sakuragi Yū confirmed, opponent still unknown … But what puzzled her throughout all that was the nature of this opponent’s Duel Disk: the signal pattern her computer was picking up was not familiar to her at all; it oscillated on a completely different wavelength than the Disks used by many Duelists in Maiami City.

In fact, as the technician explained to her supervisor, recent experience told her this was only the third time on the job that she’d ever seen a signal like this before. At this, her supervisor’s face had darkened, and he’d turned away on the spot, pulling out his phone and speaking in low tones to whoever was on the line—presumably, his own boss.

Now suddenly left to her own devices, the technician watched the Life Point counters assume their standard amount of 4000, the hand sizes to five cards—but still the nameless opponent remained unknown to her.

But recent experience had also told the technician what to do in this circumstance. A few practiced keystrokes from her therefore triggered a flag on the nascent Duel; no direct action would be taken, but from now on, until one of their LP totals reached zero, every card and every play both Duelists made would be monitored and catalogued.

It was also recent experience that led her to hope it wouldn’t be Yū who reached zero first.

“I activate the Continuous Spell: Advance Zone—along with the Spell Card: Compensation for Arisal!”

The unseen Duelist wasted no time in making the first move; Yū heard both cards slap on his blade in quick succession before he’d even caught his breath. “Then, because I control no monsters, I use Evil Cell of the Inverz’ procedure to Special Summon it from my hand in Attack Position!”

There was just enough light between their Duel Disks for Yū to see the monster that had been Summoned just now: a black, round, beetle-like creature the size of a beach ball, its three wings buzzing ominously in the alley (Level 1: ATK 0/DEF 0).

“Next, the Spell Card: One for One!” the Duelist went on; Yū faintly saw several cards being shifted here and there. “With this card, I can send a monster from my hand to the Graveyard, and Special Summon a Level 1 monster from my Deck! I Special Summon Scout of the Inverz in Attack Position!” The insectoid, grayish-black monster that emerged a moment later wasn’t much bigger than Evil Cell, but it was considerably more erect in posture, and only slightly more intimidating for that reason (Level 1: ATK 200/DEF 0).

“Finally, I Release my Scout and Evil Cell to Advance Summon this in Attack Position! Come out, Inverz Horn!”

Years of experience in Dueling, and a physique to match, were all that kept Yū from being blown flat on his back from the mighty wind that had suddenly erupted in the narrow alley. But as it was, the LDS Duelist still stumbled where he stood, causing him to take his eyes off the field for a crucial moment. When he regained his balance, he very nearly lost it again when he saw the monster that had buzzed onto the field.

It rather looked like a human had been crossbred with a cockroach, and had then been force-fed so many steroids and growth hormones thereafter that it had grown further still—as broad from shoulder to neck as Yū was shoulder to shoulder, and at least half as high again in height as he stood. The chitin-plated antennae that trailed from the monster’s head only added to its already imposing stature—while cape-like black wings and twin pairs of bone-white blades over its jaws and claws completed it, snapping and buzzing in an unsettling alien dirge (Level 9: ATK 3000/DEF 0).

A 3000-ATK monster on the first turn?! Yū bit his lip. He’d seen monsters with that level of strength before; some of them hadn’t even needed card effects to make them that strong. But to see one so soon, before he’d even played a card … this person was intent on making sure he had the dominant field from the moment the Duel had started.

“One card face-down,” finished the faceless Duelist, ending his turn. “During each End Phase, Advance Force’s effect applies during any turn I Released monsters for an Advance Summon. Since I released two monsters, I may draw a card—and then,” he added as he did so, “because of my Compensation for Arisal, I may apply even more effects if I Released any monsters from my hand or field this turn. Since I Released at least one monster, I may draw a second card—and then, because I Released two, I may add two monsters from my Graveyard to my hand!”

Meaning the Evil Cell and the Scout he Released to Summon that Horn, Yū knew, feeling his teeth bite deeper still into his lip. At least this unknown Duelist going first meant that he couldn’t attack with it right off the bat; it’d be easier to form a counterattack with all four thousand of his Life Points rather than only a thousand.

The card he’d drawn just now, he thought with a smirk as he stared at its artwork, might just give him that chance and then some. “I begin,” he therefore cried, “with the Quick-Play Spell: Divine Judgment of the Spellbooks—and then,” he added, placing a second and third card onto his screen, “I activate the Continuous Spell: Spellbook Hall Étoile, and the Field Spell: Spellbook Institute – La Maison!”

Several things happened at that moment. A pair of multicolored sigils shimmered around him, glowing dimly in the murky shadows that still pervaded this Duel. The alley itself was just barely seen to disappear from view; its rough walls and pavement were smoothed and polished by some invisible pair of hands, until it had been completely transformed into a stately hallway of marble floors and pillars. The faint light of a star—or some unknown equivalent—floated meters above his head, but the darkness surrounding it lingered still, causing the ends of the hall, and the columns and ceiling that framed it, to be lost to sight almost instantly.

It was this that made Yū convinced that the darkness itself was not natural—that it must be the byproduct of some Solid Vision function the boy was using, in tandem with the nightfall itself; perhaps to aid his stealth and mask his appearance. Well, he said to himself, there was a simple answer to that.

And so—“I Summon Batel the Magical Spellbook Keeper in Attack Position!” Yū declared, swiping a single monster onto his blade. Fortunately, the holographic lighting coming from his Étoile was just enough to illuminate the newest arrival to the field: a young boy in his early teens, clad in a blue robe and an elaborate hat to match, clutching a tome that brimmed with arcane light (Level 2: ATK 500 » 600/DEF 400).

Though he knew his opponent probably couldn’t see a darned thing in this light, Yū gestured to the hallway around them anyway—and more specifically, the blue light hanging above him like a chandelier. “Spellbook Hall Étoile’s effect allows it to gain a Spell Counter for each Spellbook Spell Card I activate,” he explained, “and its second effect allows all Spellcaster-Type monsters I control to gain 100 ATK for each of those Counters!

“Now, because Batel was Normal Summoned, I can activate its effect,” Yū went on, “and add one of those Spellbook Spell Cards I mentioned before from my Deck to my hand! I add Spellbook of Grimo—and then I’ll activate that to add another Spellbook Spell Card from my Deck to my hand!”

The effect was immediate: a massive tome, its edges and cover streaming with lattices of pale white light, appeared in his hand and cracked open before him. Transparent pages rushed past him at blinding speed, and sigils raced in every direction from the confines of each one. Yū waited until he saw a second star shimmer above him—a second Spell Counter—and for Batel’s ATK gauge to therefore increase to 700. Then, he made a show of pointing at no sigil in particular, and waited until the prearranged action caused the card he wanted to jut out from his Deck.

“I add Spellbook of Sefer,” Yū said with a grin, swiping that card into his fingers and across his screen in the same motion, “and then I’ll activate that to target a Spellbook Spell Card in my Graveyard, and have Sefer inherit that card’s effect! Which means—you guessed it!” he crowed, as the huge book in front of him suddenly leafed to a different page, and erupted in navy blue lightning. “I’ll target my Grimo, and add yet another Spellbook from my Deck to my hand!”

By now, Yū was in his element. The Spellbooks that composed his Deck, and the Magical monsters that walked hand in hand with them, worked rather like a wizard casting a spell; the more magic—the more Spellbooks—that went into that spell, the more complex its incantation would be … and the more powerful its effect. And as Batel’s ATK swelled further still to 800, illuminated by the light from the tome in front and the stars above, the LDS Duelist was well aware of the complexity of some of the incantations and strategies he’d pulled off that had allowed him to attain Junior Youth champion standing during the previous Championship—and he knew he had more left in him yet before he could consider this one the most devastating spell he’d ever crafted.

“I now add and activate Spellbook of Ldra,” he shouted, watching Batel grow to 900 ATK, illuminated by a sudden surge of magenta light from the tome hovering in front of him. “By sending a Spellcaster-Type monster from my field—or another Spellbook Spell Card from my hand or face-up field—to the Graveyard, I can draw two cards! I choose to send my Batel!”

The azure-clothed magician vanished with an echoing cry, his only remaining trace a stream of energy that disappeared into the holographic tome. An instant later, Yū was placing two fresh cards in his hand, and paused only to take in their effects before he resumed his usual rhythm.

The cards he’d drawn weren’t ideal; he’d been hoping for something a little more aggressive than this. But the LDS Duelist wasn’t unduly worried. He’d managed a great deal for his first turn as it was—moreover, he was keen on making sure this Duel could last as long as he could draw it out. If he was correct, then this Duelist was only jamming the communications functions on his Duel Disk, meaning he could not actively signal anyone for help. But the operative term here was actively; if his Duel Disk was being monitored—and Yū was certain it would be, thanks to recent events—then whoever was doing so could realize who he was Dueling, and have reinforcements inbound once they’d determined him to be a threat. So far, that threat had yet to manifest itself tonight—but Yū did not become a champion Duelist by simply waiting for his opponent to become a threat. He would remove that threat himself if he had to, before it became a problem—or barring that, he thought, glancing again at his hand, he would ensure he had enough options at his disposal that he would quickly be prepared for any scenario.

And so: “I now activate the Quick-Play Spell: Spellbook Organization,” Yū declared, watching yet another star twinkle into being in the darkness above, “which allows me to rearrange the top three cards of my Deck in any order I wish.” He did so, stealing a glance at each one; the order of the cards in which he drew them would be crucial.

“One card face-down,” he finished, placing a card on his blade—and that was all he could do; Batel had exhausted his one Normal Summon for the turn, and he had no monsters on the field with which to attack and destroy that Horn. But Yū had ensured from the beginning that his lack of a field would not be his undoing—because: “During the End Phase, my Divine Judgment of the Spellbooks applies, and allows me to add Spellbook Spells from my Deck to my hand—up to the number I activated this turn!”

He felt a gentle breeze blowing behind him, and saw multiples of his own shadow extending across the Duel field, as if a series of multicolored lights had switched on behind him. In his mind’s eye, he imagined the sigil that had materialized at his back, its six metal wings fanned out like the biblical seraphim—two wings, inches from the ground, two stretched to the sky, and two more either side keeping it airborne.

Six wings, he smirked—six cards. And each one jutted out from his Deck, swiped up in quick succession—but Yū wasn’t done yet. “Furthermore,” he added, placing them all into his suddenly expansive hand, “this effect allows me to Special Summon a Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck whose Level is less than or equal to the number of cards I added to my hand! I choose to Summon La Mort the Magical Nethermaster in Attack Position!”

Something stirred in the darkness, directly in front of him; it was as if an invisible presence had commanded the shadows themselves to assume physical form. A moment later, that form had manifested into a tattered, black-and-violet robe, a skeletal half-mask, and pointed hat, concealing the face and slim figure of a young man barely older than Yū himself. A many-edged scythe was clutched in clawed black gloves, brought to bear in a defiant stance of attack against the roaring, chittering Horn (Level 6: ATK 2000 » 2600/DEF 1600).

“My La Mort gains effects depending on the number of Spellbook Spells in my Graveyard at the moment of its Summon,” said Yū. “With at least three, it gains 600 ATK. With at least four”—he paused just long enough to watch his monster’s sinister scythe smoke with dark energy, its ATK ballooning to 3200—“I can add a Spellbook Spell Card from my Deck to my hand. And if I have at least five, I can Special Summon a Level 5 or higher DARK-Attribute Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck! I therefore Special Summon Diable the Magical Demon Knight in Attack Position!”

Two cards extended themselves from his Deck just then. One, the Spell he intended to add to his hand, was swiped up thus with little preamble. The second was slapped upon the blade of his Duel Disk an instant later.

The figure that emerged from the shadows an instant after that was every bit as demonic—if not more so—as the unknown Duelist’s Inverz Horn. Spiked, leathery wings unfolded until their tips brushed the edges of the alley. Fire brimmed from its eyes and maw as if from within, and sizzled within sigils laid within the broad sword it clutched in its claws, and a prehensile tail slashed at the air at diagonals as though it could cleave through flesh and bone with the same ease as that sword (Level 6: ATK 2500 » 3100/DEF 1200).

“Unfortunately,” said Yū, “because that ends my turn, yet I still have more than six cards in my hand, I must discard any excess cards until I do.” This wasn’t the first time he’d run afoul of the hand size limit of six cards in a Duel—but he had since learned to be mindful of the cards he did discard when the situation demanded he had to. With the amount of Spells Yū kept in his Deck, the hand size limit could be just as much of a blessing to him as it was a curse to most everyone else—any one of his Spellbooks could be equally useful in the Graveyard as they were in his hand. So he hardly felt unfortunate at all as he slid a trio of them—Torah, Archive Solein, and Archive Crescent—into a slot at the side of his Duel Disk. He would not need them yet—and very likely not in his hand even then.

For now, he was safe.

“All that … for two monsters and a handful of Spells you can’t even use.” The unknown Duelist almost sounded disappointed as he drew a card to begin his turn. “There’s something to be said for recycling your own cards, Sakuragi. But if you can’t use them right off the bat—if you don’t have the chance to make them count—then they’re nothing more than dead weight.

“Inverz Horn’s effect!” he hollered. “Once per turn, if I control this Advance Summoned monster, I can pay 1000 LP—then target a monster on the field and destroy it! I target and destroy your La Mort!”

Horn’s massive wings filled the alley completely as it rose into the air, thrumming at a pitch that made Yū’s bones vibrate in his flesh. Then, in a blur of speed, the muscular bug-man had crossed the field in the blink of an eye, sinking its pincer-claws deep into La Mort’s torso. The magician was drawn and quartered before he could even muster a cry of pain, and disappeared in an explosion of photons. The shockwave made both Duelists stumble; Yū heard a grunt from opposite him as his opponent’s LP slipped to 3000.

“Next, I Normal Summon Inverz Caller in Attack Position!” the Duelist declared, and another insect-man alighted next to Horn: smaller and more slender, with arms and legs that looked just a little too long for its humanoid form (Level 4: ATK 1700/DEF 0).

“And now”—Yū heard a hiss of breath, as if delivered through gritted teeth—“I activate the Continuous Trap … Compensation of Blood!”

The LDS Duelist’s mouth fell open. “You’re doing what?!” he exclaimed in absolute shock, as he sensed that the Duel was about to take a turn for the worse—and possibly, he thought, for the both of them.

Yū had never gone up against a Deck that used Compensation of Blood before—but he knew the Trap by reputation. During the year in which he’d debuted in the Junior Youth division, he had had the misfortune of watching a Duelist play this same card while attending a regional in Hokkaidō Prefecture—and a crowd ten thousand strong had learned the hard way that the oldest cards in Duel Monsters manifested through Solid Vision in ways that were decidedly not family-friendly. The match was declared a no-decision before the Duelist who had played this nasty Trap was even stretchered out of the arena, unconscious due to the amount of blood he’d lost, and the entire tourney was very nearly canceled due to the extent of his injuries. It had taken a full transfusion before the Duelist was declared out of medical danger, and by the time he was discharged from the infirmary, Compensation of Blood—and several other cards with it—had been banned nationwide from all tournament play for the safety of competing Duelists.

To see this card again, with his own eyes … Yū felt a chill rushing through his spine. For two things about this unknown Duelist had become clear to him now; firstly, any doubts as to whether or not he hailed from these parts had been dispelled—no one would willingly play this Trap anywhere in Japan, not even in a friendly pickup Duel. The cause of its ban was simply too well known. Secondly, it sounded to Yū as if this Duelist was bracing himself when he played this card—as if he already knew what it could do. That he was playing it anyway spoke volumes of either his resilience—or his recklessness. And right now, the LDS Duelist was not sure which one was winning out.

In any case, he felt suddenly grateful for the gloomy darkness that surrounded him, obscuring his opponent’s body. It meant he wouldn’t have to see what was about to happen.

“During my Main Phase, or my opponent’s Battle Phase,” the Duelist said, “I can pay 500 Life Points to immediately conduct a Normal Summon. And I’ll do just that to Summon my Evil Cell once more!”

As the round, morbidly obese insect appeared on his field once more (Level 1: ATK 0/DEF 0), Yū heard a dull noise that sounded like a blunt knife against a slab of raw meat. Then, there was a grunt of pain, delivered through teeth clenched so tightly they might be crushed to powder in seconds, followed by the LP gauge showing his Life Points dropping to 2500. But nothing made him feel greener around the gills than the noise that followed this: a faint, but steady and glutinous drip-drip-drip. The absence of bright light in the alley magnified the noises in his ears until they echoed in his brain, each sound driving home like a nail in plywood just what sort of madman he was Dueling.

“Not yet … ” Yū heard him growl. “Just one more … ” A final grunt; he must have dropped to his knees, only to get back on his feet. “I activate Compensation’s effect again, and pay 500 LP for a third Normal Summon!”

He grunted again, louder this time—loud enough to block out the knife-on-meat sound once more. But even this and his LP falling further still to 2000 was not enough to silence the spattering noise that invaded Yū’s ears a second time. “But this time, I’ll Release my Evil Cell, my Caller, and my Horn to Advance Summon this!”

The LDS Duelist took a step backward in trepidation. A triple-Release monster?! Inwardly, he suppressed a gulp; he’d not come across very many of these monsters before. Mostly it was because they were slow and too resource-intensive to Summon—but when they were Summoned, they were often very difficult to remove from the field.

So he bit his lip again as he watched the silhouettes of all three Inverz monsters disappear into the darkness, gone without a trace but for the puffs of shadow that signified their destruction. In its place emerged an immense mass of black-gold spikes and chitin, rising ten … twelve … fifteen feet into the air …

“Come out!” bellowed the Duelist. “Inverz Glez!”

The insectoid behemoth stepped onto the field in full, its massive body obscuring its Summoner completely (Level 10: ATK 3200/DEF 0). Every square inch of Glez’s four arms was awash in a veritable sea of rustling spikes and chittering pincers, seething and hissing in a cacophonous symphony of noise. Wings the length and breadth of a small house flicked and flapped behind boat-sized armor plates, and a massive horn topped the beady green eyes set in its head—the only thing about the monster at all that was anywhere close to tiny.

“Inverz Caller’s effect activates whenever I would Release it to Advance Summon an Inverz monster,” the Duelist cried, “and allows me to Special Summon a Level 4 or lower Inverz monster from my Deck! I Summon Gatekeeper of the Inverz in Defense Position!”

From behind one of Glez’ gigantic wings crawled a stout, broad-backed creature; Yū could have mistaken it for a hound dog if not for the fact that it was plated in enough black armor to rival a tank (Level 4: ATK 1500/DEF 1900), making its ugly, wide head all the smaller in comparison to the rest of its rotund body. The gleaming jaws set within snarled and slavered at anything that caught its tiny white eyes.

“Battle Phase!” shouted the Duelist. “Inverz Glez—attack Diable!” Glez lowered its horn, hunkering into an attack stance. That was the only warning Yū had before the monster charged at him like a juggernaut.

Diable was ready, though; the sizzling sword was swinging in a wide arc. It struck the horn, pinging off the chitin with a loud CLANG, causing Glez to stumble, and its charge to miss Diable completely. But a second later, Glez had cleverly gone with the movement, and thrashed out with a thick black tail that wrapped itself around Diable’s neck as though it had a mind of its own. Moments later, Yū recoiled—the tail did have a mind of its own: a second mouth had opened at its tip, and a quick flick of Glez’ tail sent that open maw right into the face of Diable—

SNAP.

The LDS Duelist winced at the loud noise; Glez, pinning Diable’s arms and torso from any chance of counterattack, had used its tail-mouth to twist where it coiled under the demon’s chin, right at the point where spine met skull. The sword of Diable fell to the ground with a CLANG that cracked the pavement underneath—and Diable itself, its neck lolling grotesquely, followed suit moments later. A final clawed foot to the chest from Glez disintegrated the monster completely; the shockwave rippled across Yū hard enough that he grimaced in pain from the battle damage.

A hundred-point loss of Life Points wasn’t bad, though—3900 was still far better than 2000. But even so, Yū hadn’t been able to make a dent in his opponent’s LP—it had been all his own doing, and previous experience with Decks that used life as a resource told him that this Duelist had to have some way of getting his lost life back.

Worse still, he felt very, very naked at a stage of the Duel where he ought not be. His field presence was all but destroyed, and he was left staring down an insect-man the size of his parents’ car. It didn’t matter how many times Compensation of Blood was activated—one more hit like that from Glez and he’d be close to finished.

And for all Yū knew, the Duelist he was facing—still as faceless and enigmatic as ever—might well be capable of Summoning far worse.

Chapter Text

III

For many kids in the world, music is an influence on their lives. It drives their creativity, allows them to discover new vistas that their minds might otherwise never bothered to entertain. For some, this need to search and create may be born from a need to escape their surroundings—to de-stress from the rigors and minutiae of their daily life, and afford themselves a moment of peace in their own little world. So it was with Yashiki Yūrei.

The Wight Duelist had barely moved from the corner of Kaede’s home-away-from-home since she’d whisked him upstairs in a blur of blonde hair, and into the bonus room her grandmother had turned into a bedroom. She was a tornado on a sugar high, flitting between her prissy, perpetually unmade twin bed; her dresser, strewn with more bottles and vials of cosmetics than he’d ever seen in one place; and just about everywhere in between, bouncing off the pastel-pink walls like a pachinko ball wherever she went. Only just now had the Cuisine Duelist come to a stop in front of her television—a plastic microphone in her hand and a wicked grin on her face as she slipped in a disk.

Yūrei knew full well that such a grin boded ill for him even before she’d switched it on and started singing along.

For him, music wasn’t just some mere escape—it was an actual, tangible goal. He’d harbored dreams of being a musician when he was growing up, and some element of this pursuit persisted even as he discovered and refined his talent in Duel Monsters. After all, there was nothing stopping him from taking the education he’d learned at the Wight School and putting his own spin on it—indeed, Yūrei often liked to fantasize that if he ever went pro, it’d be as both a Duelist and a musician. His Duels wouldn’t just be matches, but entire concerts played at venues packed to capacity, a device that was equal parts guitar and Duel Disk slung over one shoulder, while Duel Monsters would wail and whirl around him in the sort of ever-changing melody that dominates the brain of many a young boy.

That melody was trounced and trodden beneath polished white heels an instant later.

“ … Hito wa dare mo

Isshō no uchi

Nankai aiseru no darō?”

It wasn’t that Kaede was singing an overly cutesy song that was rankling him so—or that said overly cutesy song had an even more overly cutesy music video blaring on the television. Nor was it even that she was singing said song in one of the many overly cutesy dresses that threatened to burst out of her overly cutesy closet and all over her overly cutesy room.

It was just that the Cuisine Duelist’s singing voice was as far from “overly cutesy” as a ten-year-old girl could get.

To describe it as microphone feedback from the scream of a boiling lobster would have been an injustice to the lobster, the microphone—and probably even the cooking pot. It squashed all trace of inspiration out of Yūrei’s mind; all fantasy of being a musician-Duelist was gone in a flash. He squished his eyes shut, conjured up the lyrics to “Dozing Green” in his mind’s eye, and hoped that whatever song Kaede was singing didn’t have a lot of verses.

It wasn’t working.

“Sonna tokimeki wo kanjite

Hana wa hokorobu no ka na … ”

Both children were so distracted that they never gave their Duel Disks—tossed aside onto the plush white duvet of Kaede’s bed—a second thought. Which meant that the two vibrating devices, their screens flashing silently amidst the noise of the room, had been condemned to convey a message that would never be answered:

CALL INCOMING – UNKNOWN NUMBER

Five blocks away, in an alley darkened by Solid Vision, Sakuragi Yū exhaled through his teeth in displeasure.

He still carried the edge in this Duel; his field presence was gone, but the La Maison and Étoile he controlled yet remained—and he also had much more of a hand than his unknown opponent. That still didn’t change the fact that the monster standing opposite him was stronger and higher-leveled than any he carried in his Deck—and much stronger than any he had a chance of Summoning next turn. Inverz Glez seemed well aware of its superior strength right now, too; the car-sized monster was leering at him, all four of its muscular arms crossed at its broad chest.

But what concerned Yū most was the unexpected Continuous Trap this Duelist had been carrying in their Deck—apparently unaware or unwilling to care that using Compensation of Blood at all carried a severe risk to his body. He knew he had to get rid of that as soon as possible—not simply so he could save the madman from harming himself any further, but also to figure out why in the world he’d apparently been stalking him for at least this entire day.

“Two cards face-down,” announced his opponent just then. “Since I Released a monster for an Advance Summon this turn, I can now activate Advance Zone’s effect: because at least one monster was Released, I can target a Set Spell or Trap Card on the field—and destroy it!” Glez wasted no time in doing just that; its tail-mouth whipped out a second time like a mace and chain, lashing the pavement barely a meter away from Yū. The shattered remnants of Hidden Spellbook faded from view, useless to him now.

“Then, since two monsters were Released this turn, I can draw a card,” continued the Duelist, “and because three monsters were Released, I can add a monster from my Graveyard right back into my hand!”

Yū bit back a curse. He’d been keeping track of the number of cards in his opponent’s hand—not an easy thing to do, since he couldn’t see them in the first place—and he was aware that the two cards he’d Set to end his turn had been the last ones he’d been holding. And yet here he was, with the beginnings of another—and no doubt ready to use his Compensation of Blood with them once more, to bring out another powerful monster, which in turn would keep on fueling his hand with more and more cards …

Yes, he knew—he’d have to be very lucky with his next draw, if he wanted to stay in this Duel for much longer.

“My turn!” he declared, drawing with a flourish. Yū turned it over in his fingers, and—ooh, this could work, he thought with a slight smirk. But there were a few things he needed to take care of first—not least of which was …

“During my Standby Phase, if I have a Spellcaster-Type monster in my Graveyard, I can activate the effect of my Field Spell: La Maison,” the LDS Duelist said. “By placing a Spellbook Spell Card from my Graveyard on the bottom of my Deck, I can then draw an additional card!” He extracted his Spellbook of Grimo—its ability as a searcher and a Deck-thinner was indispensible—slipped it into his Deck, and then drew—

Now that’s more like it. “I Summon Mat the Magical Fool in Attack Position!” Yū cried, slapping that same card onto his blade. The magician that emerged from the darkness moments later looked much like himself; his hair was a darker purple rather than lavender, and Yū knew from experience that robes and hats were not his idea of fashion statements. But under all that yellow-and-green finery lay an expression of confidence on Mat’s face that the LDS Duelist was quick to equate with his own (Level 3: ATK 1600 » 2200/DEF 900).

“Once per turn, Mat’s effect allows me to send a Spellbook Spell from my Deck to the Graveyard,” explained Yū as he ejected a card from the bottom of his Deck, then slid it elsewhere into his Duel Disk, “and so I’ll use that effect to send the same Spellbook of Grimo I returned with La Maison’s effect!”

He smirked. That takes care of one monster. “Next, I activate the effect of the Diable you sent to my Graveyard,” he continued, “and banish 3 Spellbook Spell Cards from my Graveyard to Special Summon it back to my field!”

The LDS Duelist threw out his hand—“Be reborn!”—and as if it had been a prearranged signal, the earth cracked before his feet. Moments later, Diable rose from the wide gash in the pavement, sword and all, none the worse for wear—though its narrowed eyes, burning aura, and guttural growl left it in little doubt that it sought swift vengeance upon Glez for breaking its neck just a few minutes ago (Level 6: ATK 2500 » 3100/DEF 1200).

It was good—but not quite enough, Yū knew. “Now, since I control a Spellcaster-Type monster,” he added, “I activate the Quick-Play Spell: Spellbook of Goethe! That in turn activates the effect of my Continuous Spell: Étoile, and adds another Spell Counter to that Spell!” Which means, he knew as he watched another star-like lamp materialize overhead, causing Mat’s and Diable’s ATK gauges to rise to 2300 and 3200, that my field is already right where I want it.

However … “Additionally, Goethe’s effect allows me to banish up to 3 Spellbook Spells from my Graveyard and apply a different effect depending on how many I banish! And by banishing three more Spellbooks,” Yū added, watching the holographic tome in front of him shine a bright, pure gold, “I can also banish 1 card my opponent controls—like your Compensation of Blood!”

It was a pity he could not see the Duelist’s face at that moment, he thought as he extracted Sefer, Ldra, and Grimo from his Graveyard slot, sliding them into a separate compartment along with Torah, Archive Crescent, and Archive Solein—which he’d used to fuel his Special Summon of Diable. He would have liked to know how valuable such a dangerous card was to his strategy. Perhaps it was just as well that he would never find out for sure; as he watched the golden light of Goethe radiate out from the tome within, and vaporize its target into a hurricane of photonic dust, Yū felt a great sense of relief that he would not have to put either himself or his enemy through its torturous effect.

He glanced at his hand, and pursed his lips. Maybe it was time to get rid of a few more Spells in his hand so he wouldn’t have to discard them at an inopportune time again. “I now activate the Spell Card Spellbook of Alma,” he therefore said, watching the Solid Vision book in front of him flare with blinding white light, “which lets me target 1 of my banished Spellbook Spells and add it to my hand! That’s one more Spell Counter thanks to Étoile, and a hundred more ATK for both my monsters!”

He already knew which card he wanted to retrieve, and he swiped it on his Duel Disk before another pair of arcane lamplights appeared over his head—and well before Mat and Diable had finished growing to 2500 and 3400 ATK. “I’ll add and activate the Quick-Play Spell: Spellbook of Torah,” Yū went on, “and this card allows me to target a Spellcaster-Type monster on the field and render it immune to other Spells or Traps for the rest of this turn! So I’ll target my Mat the Magical Fool!”

As the light from his tome darkened slightly from pure white to a spectral green, washing over Mat in the space of a second, Yū was well aware that he might be setting himself up for a blunder. It would have made more sense, after all, to use Torah’s protective effect on his stronger monster. But even if Diable was somehow destroyed by one of those face-down cards the unknown Duelist possessed, Yū had deliberately used enough Spells this turn that he’d be able to Special Summon it by its own procedure again next turn. What was more, he had every intention of getting as much mileage out of Mat as possible—and that meant making sure it lived to see the end of the turn.

There was still, however, the matter of the Duelist’s field presence—and Yū knew now was the time to address it. “Battle Phase!” he declared, stabbing his finger at where he thought his opponent might be. “Mat—attack and destroy Gatekeeper!” Yū shouted, and the junior magician leapt forward to obey. One swing of his golden staff expelled a blast of arcane yellow light, disintegrating the squat form of Gatekeeper in the time it took to blink.

So far, so good … “Next! Diable—attack Inverz Glez!” Yū knew from the start that the attack would do no damage to the Duelist—and not only that, because of their equal ATK, both Glez and Diable would be destroyed. But Yū would have wagered his last tournament purse on Glez not having the same sort of revival effect that Diable did—and that would give him the edge on his next turn when he—

“Trap, activate: Drain Shield!”

Yū’s train of thought shuddered to a halt. What?!

Diable was rushing headlong for Glez, sword to claw—but Glez was already moving to respond. “When an opponent’s monster declares an attack,” cried the Duelist, “I can target that attacking monster and negate the attack—and then I can gain Life Points equal to that target’s ATK!”

CLANG.

Diable’s sword—on course to decapitate its target—instead merely bounced off the chitinous skin as a sickly green shockwave erupted from the point of contact. The shockwave hurtled out in a ring of light, washing over Glez and causing Yū to avert his eyes, and continued on until it reached the insect-man’s Summoner—while Diable’s sword was lost completely and sent into a nearby wall.

When Yū next chanced a look, it was to suppress another curse; his opponent’s Life Points were now at 5400—almost half as much again as his own. That was sloppy of me, thought the LDS Duelist; he’d even expected that this Duelist had to have a way to heal his lost LP at some point—but he knew it couldn’t be helped. At least he still had his Diable on the field; that was a plus compared to what could have been.

And so he spared enough time for a sigh of relief before he made his next move. “During my End Phase, if I activated Mat the Magical Fool’s effect—and if I have at least five different Spellbook Spell Cards in my Graveyard,” he added, “I can Release it to Special Summon a Level 5 or higher DARK-Attribute Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck! And I choose to Special Summon Rouede the Magical Beast Master in Attack Position!”

Mat disappeared with an echoing gasp of pain, disintegrating into a thousand golden fragments. In his place rose a far bigger monster, easily half as tall again as Yū: a muscular, lion-headed warrior with a massive, bladed shield that shone with the light of many magical sigils (Level 8: ATK 2700 » 3600/DEF 1700).

Yū spared a moment to grin at the strongest monster he’d Summoned this Duel. Then: “Rouede’s effect activates if it’s Special Summoned by a Spellcaster-Type monster’s effect,” he explained. “I can target any number of banished Spellbook Spells and shuffle them into the Deck—and any remaining Spellbooks I don’t shuffle go right back into my Graveyard!”

Rouede hefted its shield aloft with a growl, its mane flowing majestically in the arcane shockwave that radiated from the metal surface. Yū only needed to target one Spell—Grimo was too important to his strategies that it should stay in the Graveyard for any longer than it had to—and once the auto-shuffle function had rearranged the single card back into the rest of his Deck, he’d extracted the rest of his banished Spells and slid them into his Graveyard slot.

“Turn end,” he said smugly. He rather thought Kaede and Yūrei would have been proud of him for pulling that off.

That smug feeling didn’t last for long, though. His opponent had barely even taken his fingers off the card he’d drawn before making his move.

“Trap, activate: Means of Infestation!” he shouted. “By sending an Inverz monster from my Deck to the Graveyard, I can target another Inverz monster I control, and make it gain 800 ATK until the End Phase!”

Yū took an instinctive step backward as Glez flexed all four of its arms. The gigantic insect-man was growing, filling the alleyway completely with its wingspan as its ATK grew to 4000—

“And then,” snarled the unknown Duelist, “I activate Inverz Glez’ effect—by paying half my Life Points, I can destroy every card on the field save for itself! Which means,” he bellowed, as dark energy slithered all over his body, dropping his LP gauge to 2700, “that you’re history!”

Yū’s mouth fell open. Every card?!

He watched wild-eyed as Glez rumbled into the air, its wings beating with deafening force—a sound that sounded uncannily like one of those old wartime bombers. Dark lightning crackled from its four hands, arcs snapping all over the alleyway; once or twice Yū smelled ozone from how narrowly those arcs missed him—

BOOM.

Glez had moved with a quickness that belied its size; in an instant the air was awash with a thunderstorm’s worth of lightning, dust, and choking darkness. Diable and Rouede were vaporized an instant after that, their roars and howls of pain being the last thing that remained of their existence. And the devastation didn’t stop there; the shadowy bolts tore into the lamplights of Étoile, shattering them all with impunity into a million shards apiece. The smooth walls and floors faded from view, replaced piecemeal by the dank and drab brick and asphalt of the alleyway.

Yū had only a moment to take all this in before his vision was suddenly filled with several tons’ worth of rapidly charging Glez. “And now to finish it!” roared the Duelist. “Battle Phase! Inverz Glez, attack his Life Points—!”

He got no further—and neither did Glez: a wall of blue-white light had suddenly flared in front of the Duel Monster, shielding Yū from being reduced to a thin paste against the monster’s bulk. Glez roared in agitation at the sudden obstacle, and tried to claw its way through, but to no avail.

“When Glez destroyed my Spellbook Hall Étoile,” Yū grunted, taking several deep breaths to regain his composure and calm his racing heart, “you activated that card’s second effect—if it’s destroyed and sent to the Graveyard after accumulating even a single Spell Counter, I can add a Spellcaster-Type monster from my Deck to my hand, whose Level is less than or equal to the number of Counters Étoile had when it was destroyed!”

“And how does that help you?” the Duelist spat derisively.

“Because Glez’ effect also destroyed my Field Spell: La Maison,” retorted Yū. “And wouldn’t you know it, that card also has an effect that activates when an opponent’s card effect sends it to the Graveyard!” The wall blocking Glez from finishing him glowed a bit brighter at this. “That effect lets me Special Summon a Magical monster from my hand or my Deck, whose Level is less than or equal to the number of Spellbook Spell Cards in my Graveyard!”

He grinned. “You want to count them with me?” he said daringly, ticking off fingers. “Let’s see—La Maison, Étoile, Alma, Sefer, Ldra, Organization, Torah, Goethe, Archive Solein, and Archive Crescent! That’s ten different Spellbooks,” he crowed, crossing his arms at the breast and showing his fingers—extended to a one. “And you’re going to love the monster I’m going to use every last one of them to Summon!”

He threw out a hand. “Come out—Tout le Monde the Magical Angel!”

The light that flared from the tome in front of him was such that he was forced to cover his eyes, and take a few instinctive steps backward. He felt a mighty wind whip at his hair, and hunkered down on his knees to keep himself from being blown away—figuratively or literally.

But as soon as the surge of light and sound had started, it was over—and in its place stood a figure resplendent in billowing robes of purest white, shining with aquamarine magic that shone from dozens of sigils and spilled forth from wide, blank eyes (Level 9: ATK 2900/DEF 2400). Six white wings unfurled, their very presence forcing Yū to squint—such was the purity of white that poured from every feather—and with a single beat they carried the wizard into the air until he was eye level with Glez.

“Tout le Monde’s effect activates when it’s Special Summoned through the effect of a Spellbook Spell Card or another Spellcaster-Type monster,” Yū explained, “and lets me target 2 Spellbooks in my Graveyard and add them right back into my hand! And then,” he added, grinning madly, as he plucked a pair of cards out of his Graveyard, “since I added cards to my hand with that effect, I’ll reveal my Spellbooks of Necro and Hygro—along with the Étoile and La Maison that I just added to my hand—and destroy all other cards on the field!”

He flipped each of those cards in his hand over—one, two, three, and four—for just long enough to show the green borders characteristic of Spell Cards. That was all Tout le Monde needed to go to work with a will; the wall of light that now extended from his hand now became a lance of light made solid, spinning in the air so rapidly that Yū could have sworn it was generating a miniature tornado at its tip.

Then, Tout le Monde made a motion with his wrists—and suddenly that lance was growing out of Glez’ back, hurled at such a velocity that even at point-blank range, it had almost gone straight through the Duel Monster. Glez swayed where it stood for a long moment, then finally toppled backward and exploded in a shower of photons.

Yū almost wiped his suddenly sweaty brow in relief—he remembered the Dueling psychology classes he’d taken at the last moment. Part of a winning strategy, they’d said, was to make your opponent to think every move you made had all been part of the plan—even if they’d been happy accidents. Judging by the long, drawn-out growl that was coming from the other side of the field, he’d succeeded—and made his opponent all the more mad in the process.

“All right, then,” hissed the Duelist. “So you can bring out some high-Level monsters, too. Big deal. I’ve chewed through bigger in my time. So I think it’s time we took this Duel up a notch, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before Yū could even react: “I Summon Inverz Caller in Attack Position—and then,” snarled his opponent, not even bothering to wait for the slender insect-man (Level 4: ATK 1700/DEF 0) to materialize onto his field, “I activate the Spell Card: Dual Summon to give me a second Normal Summon this turn! I’ll use that Summon to Release my Caller—and Advance Summon Inverz Madith in Attack Position!”

Yū covered a hand with his mouth, suddenly green in the gills: Caller had dropped on hands and knees, every inch of dark chitin on its body writhing, contorting, and expanding—as if it was suddenly molting right before his eyes. Black scything blades were sprouting from its forearms, a wriggling tail was growing from its spine, and the armor plating on its chest was expanding into a blue-black cuirass, to make room for the new arrival on the field (Level 5: ATK 2200/DEF 0).

“Inverz Caller’s effect!” bellowed the Duelist. “If it’s used to Advance Summon an Inverz monster, I can Special Summon a Level 4 or lower Inverz monster from my Deck! I Special Summon Sharp of the Inverz in Attack Position! And I won’t stop there!” he added, as another black-armored humanoid shimmered onto the field to Madith’s left, with wings and a barbed abdomen that made it look like too much of a hornet for Yū’s comfort (Level 4: ATK 1850/DEF 0). “Because Inverz Madith’s effect allows me to pay 1000 Life Points when it’s Advance Summoned with an Inverz monster—and Special Summon another Inverz monster from my Graveyard!”

No sooner had he grunted in sudden pain—his LP gauge dropping to 1700—then Caller was back onto the field, hovering to Madith’s right with a buzz of wings (Level 4: ATK 1700/DEF 0).

“Let me ask you something,” hissed the Duelist, barely audible over the buzzing and chittering noises of his three monsters, “before I start annihilating everything you stand for. What do you believe in when you Duel?”

Huh? Yū drew back, flummoxed by the unexpected question. He couldn’t have led off with that question before we even started fighting? It was difficult to think of an answer while staring down a veritable horde of insect-men—even if none of those insect-people were capable of defeating his Tout le Monde—but he had a stab at it regardless.

“Knowledge is power.” He shrugged. “That’s it. That’s all there is to it. The more I learn when I Duel, the more I know for whatever future awaits me. And the more I know for that future,” he said, thinking of Kaede and Yūrei, “is the more I believe that future can learn from me.”

He felt the unknown Duelist staring back at him, boring into his face with an inquisitive eye. “Admirable,” was the eventual reply. “But even the greatest of teachers have a lot to learn. Sometimes from the people they expect the least. So let me show you the kind of power I know, Sakuragi Yū.”

A pause. “Watch now, as I use my Inverz Caller and my Sharp of the Inverz—to construct the Overlay Network!”

What?!

Yū’s jaw had gone completely slack. He hadn’t expected this turn of events at all. Compensation of Blood had been merely unthinkable—but this … this bordered on impossible! All those high-level monsters … and now this?!

He watched, as excited as he was scared, as Caller and Sharp shimmered with violet energy, their chitinous bodies slowly absorbed by the light it gave off. He braced himself barely a second before a miniature galaxy of light had yawned open behind the Duelist, sucking both monsters inside and allowing Yū to see his opponent’s tall, stocky silhouette up close for the first time—

“Great servant of the endless iron swarm, spread your wings and turn the tide of battle!”

“Xyz Summon!” roared the Duelist. “Come forth! Rank 4! Inverz Roach!”

A hurricane of wind tore through the alley, knocking Yū off his feet and flat on his back. A few moments later, he was back up—cursing and wincing all the while—but all words and thoughts died in his mouth the moment he saw the creature that had been Summoned.

It wasn’t that big—barely half the size of Glez, if that. But the spiked, gold-black armor of Roach that plated it from head to toe—and on its broad black wings, unfurled to their fullest—shone with a brilliant sheen, even in the false darkness that had swallowed them all. Nowhere was this more evident than the thin, rapier-like sword it held aloft, resolve etched within every facet of its blood-red compound eyes (Rank 4: ATK 1900/DEF 0; ORU 2).

“I end my turn,” said the Duelist smugly. Clearly he’d believed Summoning Roach had stunned Yū into silence—and so he had, though not perhaps for the reasons he’d been imagining. The mere sight of this Xyz Monster, in a Deck that didn’t make sense to include any Xyz Monsters at all, made everything feel doubly unreal to him.

Who was this Duelist? Why was he stalking him? What sort of game was he trying to play, with a Deck far stranger and more self-destructive than any he’d ever faced in his life?

And why, he wondered, had he gone through all that trouble to Summon a 0 DEF monster—and an Xyz Monster at that, a type of monster only a handful of students had the chops to Summon—in Defense Position?

The answer, when it came, stunned him so thoroughly that it felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. It wasn’t a question of whether he was stalking him to begin with. If that had been the case, then his Deck would have been tailored to counteract every move Yū made. He had said so himself: Hybrid construction betrays minimal weakness. Employ overwhelming force. That overwhelming force … hadn’t overwhelmed him at all.

He’d sounded like a hunter then, and the LDS Duelist admitted—however privately—that he’d been afraid of him. But hunters were calculated in every move they made, in the game or out of it. They were never this reckless, so scattershot in their tactics. He knew now that he had very little reason to be afraid anymore.

His opponent wasn’t here to hunt down Yū. He wasn’t even looking for his charges, Kaede or Yūrei.

He was just looking for a fight.

To flex his muscles, rattle his cage.

To what end, Yū still did not know. But he would soon enough.

“DRAW!”

He put much more effort into the single word than he needed. For some reason, people often believed that doing so would actually help give them the one card that ensured their victory. But such strategies revolved too much around luck to be viable. Better to have all the cards you needed first before you risked it all on a single draw.

And the single draw, as Yū suspected with an inward groan, would not help him in any way. But that did not matter much to him. He already had all the cards he needed—he’d drawn the last piece of his strategy ages ago, when he’d started his last turn. The incantation he’d spent this whole Duel creating had almost reached its full potency.

First, though, it was time to test a theory. “I activate the effect of my Diable!” Yū cried. “By banishing three Spellbook Spells from my Graveyard, I can—”

“Too slow!” snarled the darkness. “Inverz Roach’s effect! If a Level 5 or higher monster is Special Summoned, I can detach an Overlay Unit, negate that Summon—and destroy that monster! Which means your Diable is going right back where it belongs!”

And true to his words, Diable barely showed the tips of his horned head before Roach struck the pavement with the tip of his saber. A wave of energy rocketed outward from the point of impact, rushing across the portal from which Yū’s monster was emerging. There was a fizzling noise, and a shimmer of light—and the portal winked out in the space between one beat and the next of Yū’s thundering heart.

He cursed. At least he knew what Roach could do now. Sacrificing his Diable had not been in vain; his opponent had overplayed, and made a crucial error in response. The time to capitalize on it was now or never.

“I Summon Force the Magical Warrior in Attack Position!” he therefore said. A much smaller figure materialized on his field, childlike next to the billowing robes of Tout le Monde: a red-haired woman, surprisingly lithe and trim for the massive, lion’s-head axe held tightly in her grip (Level 4: ATK 1500/DEF 1400). “And once every turn, I can activate Force’s effect—by shuffling a Spellbook Spell into my Deck, I can target a Spellcaster-Type monster on my field, and boost its ATK by 500 and its Level by 1! So I’ll target my Force!”

As he slipped Divine Judgment back into his Deck, the auto-shuffle routines kicked in. But the noise they made was lost amidst the growl of Force as she hefted the axe in her hands, her ATK now at 2000 and her Level at 5.

“Next, I reactivate my Continuous Spell: Étoile and my Field Spell: La Maison!” Yu went on—and the familiar marble halls, lit by their lamp-like glow, shimmered across the alleyway once more. “Due to Étoile’s effect, it gains a Spell Counter every time I activate a Spellbook Spell Card—and every Spellcaster-Type I control gains 100 ATK for each of those counters!” he added, watching Force’s gauge bulk up further still to 2100, and Tout le Monde’s to an even 3000.

“But I’m just getting started!” crowed Yū, slapping yet another card on his blade. “I play the Equip Spell: Spellbook of Necro! With this, I can reveal another Spellbook Spell in my hand, then banish a Spellcaster-Type monster from my Graveyard—and finally, I can Special Summon another Spellcaster in my Graveyard in Attack Position by equipping it with my Necro! So I’ll reveal my Spellbook of Hygro, banish my Mat the Magical Fool—and revive Batel the Magical Spellbook Keeper!”

As Force and Tout le Monde swelled further still, their gauges now at 2200 and 3100, the hard-light pages of the tome before Yū flared with silver-blue energy—their edges tinged with bloody red from the influence of the Hygro he’d briefly flicked out from his hand, showing it to his opponent—and flipped en masse to a different point in the book. Moments later, the teenaged Batel had reappeared in a flash of light, looking none the worse for wear from its sojourn in the Graveyard (Level 2: ATK 500 » 700/DEF 700).

“All that for two monsters that can’t even touch me?” The rough voice of his opponent was mocking. Inverz Glez folded its upper pair of arms as if in agreement with its Summoner, snorting in disdain at the field Yū had mustered.

But the LDS Duelist paid no heed to the stinging remark. “They don’t need to touch you,” he shot back, smirking. “Because my Spellbook of Necro has a second effect: any monster it’s equipped to gains the Level of the monster I banished to activate it! And since the Mat I banished to Summon Batel was a Level 3 monster … ” He gestured to Batel, and let its gauge finish his sentence for him: the monster, once Level 2, was now Level 5.

The darkness was unnaturally quiet. “ … Two Level 5 monsters?” mused the voice within.

This only served to make Yū’s smile all the wider. “That’s right!” he whooped. Now I’ve got him! “And I’m going to use them both”—he paused for dramatic effect, as wizards often did—“to construct the Overlay Network!”

Scarlet light encased his Force, and a bluish glare enveloped Batel. Seconds later, both monsters had risen into the air—lost to sight amidst the unnatural darkness, even with the energy that brimmed from their bodies—but seconds after that, the hurricane of stars that bloomed among the arcane lights of Étoile revealed their shrinking forms, little more than silhouettes in the shadowy sky:

“Mystic ruler of the arcane realm.   Cast your most élite of sorcery, and crush all who would oppose you!”

“Xyz Summon!” bellowed Yū, hands held aloft. “Behold! Rank 5! Trice the Magical Empress Saint!”

Two silhouettes became one—and one flash of light later, something bulky and blocky descended from the sky. But the red and blue lights of its component materials still remained, and illuminated the monster in greater detail, revealing its square form to be merely an ornately worked throne. Upon this throne sat an austere-looking woman dressed in green-and-white silks lined with purest gold. White tassels, inscribed with black runes, billowed in the air alongside her long silver hair, and amber eyes surveyed the scene with utter dispassion as her seat came to rest upon the ground at last (Rank 5: ATK 2000 » 2200/DEF 1700; ORU 2).

Yū was pleased to discover that the Duelist had no ready quip to this latest twist in the Duel. He waited several seconds more, watching the darkness opposite him—but still no reply was forthcoming.

There was no doubt now—he had him. All he’d needed to do was bypass Roach’s effect by Summoning lower-Leveled monsters to his field, then altering those Levels via their effects to give him the ones he needed. That was what he liked about his Dueling style so much—intricate and complex it was, and perhaps a little long-winded, but that was how it was when casting spells. The more complicated they were, the more visually spectacular they could be—and the more defense against errors or unexpected setbacks they provided.

The time for preparation was complete—that had only been step one. Now, it was time for Sakuragi Yū to draw in his audience—to build the hype for the finale just as he’d built up the spell he’d made for just the occasion.

“My Trice’s effect grants it 300 ATK for each Overlay Unit attached to a monster I control,” he explained, and a simple intensification of the already narrow glare Trice was leveling at the opponent’s field was enough proof of its greater strength—now at 2800, so said the point gauge. “But”—he eyed one more card in his hand—“I still need one more addition to my incantation.

“And to that end, I activate … the Spell Card: Spellbook of Hygro!” he howled, slapping the card on his blade and watching the digitized tome before him flare a vivid, burning scarlet. “By targeting a Spellcaster-Type monster on my field, I can make it gain a full thousand ATK this turn! Behold!”

Slowly, imperiously, Trice rose up from her throne, clutching a long scepter in her hands. The same crimson fire that was erupting from the holo-book in front of Yū was brimming from the stone set in its crux. Translucent tendrils streamed from the jewel, seeping into the gold-encrusted gems expertly sewn into the monster’s regalia.

Then—with a loud, bell-like noise—Trice brought the scepter down on the asphalt, and the scarlet energy rushed over her entire body. Her eyes took on the glow of molten gold, and the gauge above her head—buoyed by Étoile’s latest contribution of strength—now ballooned even further to a massive 3900—

Yū checked and re-checked the math, and grinned. That was step two—now came step three. Delivery.

“This Duel ends now! Battle Phase!” He threw out his hands. “Tout le Monde—attack Inverz Roach!” And as the seraphim flapped its six wings, storming forth towards the human-bug hybrid: “And Trice—attack Inverz Madith!”

His Xyz Monster twirled her scepter once, releasing a scarlet hurricane right as the blindingly white wings of Tout le Monde unfurled to their fullest extent. The effect was immediate: both of the Inverz cringed at the sudden onslaught of brilliance, and turned to run away—but Yū’s monsters were too much for them. Roach sizzled and died like an ant underneath a child’s magnifying glass. Madith shrieked and flailed to no avail; the scarlet energy of Trice’s Hygro-enhanced attack roasted it alive.

But most importantly of all, Yū saw what was happening in the alleyway for the first time since the Duel had started.

Yes: his monsters’ twin attacks had done more than just vanquish his opponent; they had released enough light, sound, and energy that every nook and cranny of the cramped space had been filled with every photon. At last, Sakuragi Yū saw the person who had followed him, and had intimidated him with knowledge of Kaede and Yūrei that had made him fear for their lives more than even his own.

What he saw made him forget all about the deafening onslaught, and the Duelist’s LP gauge careening to zero.

He was tall—certainly a head taller than he was—and much more stocky and muscular. His hair was thick and untidy, so dirty with grime and general disregard that Yū almost didn’t see the dark green streaks that lined it. His face was still a mystery, however—partly because of the goggles and scarf Yū could faintly see covering his face, and partly because of the arm the Duelist was holding up to shield the glare from his monsters’ destruction.

That arm, a stunned Yū now saw, bore the blood-red blade he’d seen once before, belonging to the Duel Disk he hadn’t up until now. The body of the device was black as night, lined with the dark purple of dusk, and far more solid- and rugged-looking than his Duel Disk; fireproof and shatterproof, certainly—possibly even shockproof.

It was a device made for the long haul—perhaps even for battle.

Yū knew this because it was instantly familiar to him—just as it was to anyone who had ever known Kurosaki Shun.

The sight lasted for only a second. The light and sound lasted for only slightly longer than that. But the afterimages and aftershocks rippled through Yū like waves in a stormy sea, to the point that when they finally left his shaking body, he was not quite sure how much time had passed.

It couldn’t have been very long, though; now that the Duel was over, the Solid Vision that had blanketed the alley in darkness was nowhere to be seen. Night had long since fallen, but floodlights installed in the thin space—perhaps to dissuade any subversive human elements—had switched on, and thrown the boy’s figure into sharp relief.

Somehow—even after Yū’s final attack—the black scarf had still stayed on, covering his mouth and the bottoms of the silvery lenses that covered his eyes, like high-tech swimming goggles. Camouflage pants, so thick as to look like military fatigues, covered his legs in various shades of black, silver, and lavender, while a gunmetal-gray greatcoat—so torn and frayed that no fashion-conscious person would have given it a second look—was draped over his shoulders, the wide sleeves left empty and draping over his shoulder blades like tattered, useless wings.

“Your Duel Disk,” Yū managed to say. The sudden quiet of the alley seemed to magnify his voice tenfold. “I’ve seen it before. Just … just the once.”

Silence. He decided to press on. “You know Kurosaki, don’t you?”

That got a reaction; immediately the mask whipped in his direction. But still the man stayed where he was, and Yū took that as a good sign. “You’re one of the people he said he fought with,” he said. “When he was Dueling Sora.”

The mask tilted. “Shiun’in Sora?” The voice that issued from it was raspy and gruff, with a metallic edge that didn’t sound as though it was entirely the product of the concealing garment. “I knew him, too. Wish I didn’t.”

He walked towards Yū, then, his fingers working at what must be the clasps of his goggles, for they were beginning to loosen over his face, and his scarf was already being pulled down under his chin. “Yeah. Kurosaki’s a friend of mine,” the man continued as he continued to unmask himself. “We … we go back a ways.”

The Duelist forced a laugh. “I guess that whole Duel we fought was pretty pointless, huh?”

He extended a hand, but Yū didn’t take it. Not out of suspicion for the man, but because he’d just seen his face in full for the first time, thanks to the lights in the alley.

A cursory glance at his weathered skin might have suggested early, maybe mid-twenties. The faintest of five-o’clock shadows graced his craggy jaw and cheeks. One of them bore a deep, thin scar that ran across his nose and all the way to his hairline. An inch to the left or right would have cost him an eye. And the eyes themselves … Yū saw the youthful glint to the man’s deep-set gaze—a strange shade of yellow-green that pierced the night like the transient glint of a firefly’s phosphorescence—and instantly knew he was much younger than appearances made him seem … perhaps he was even a boy in his late teens, like himself.

It was the Duelist’s mouth, however, that turned his appearance from merely intimidating to genuinely frightening. Some jest of nature—or more likely, he mused, some bold and unconventional artist—had turned each and every gleaming white tooth beneath his thin lips into a triangular point, the flat edges whittled away into ripping fangs that tore the breath right out of Yū’s very lungs. Air hissed from the gaps in between, and the breaths he took were long and ragged, as though each one was a blessing to the ravaged boy who now stood before him.

Yū resisted the urge to swallow. This boy didn’t just look like he’d come straight out of a war—he looked like he’d been fighting one. That scar on his face looked thin enough that he wondered if it was possible for a Duel Disk’s blade to inflict such a wound on bare flesh. The notion of that made him want to swallow even more.

It was a long time before Yū felt ready to speak again—and even then, his faculties of speech nearly failed him. “Yeah, well”—he plastered a jaunty smile on his face and hoped to God it stuck—“I’ve heard it said that you never really know a man until you bite hi—fight him!”

A hundred curses exploded in his mind at his slip of the tongue. “Fight him—well, Duel him. You … you know what I mean,” he finished lamely, before nodding at the Duelist’s mouth. “Sorry. It’s the, uh … the teeth. Got distracted.” He laughed nervously. “I, uh … I’m Yū. Most people I know just use my family name—Sakuragi.”

“Sakuragi Yū … ” mused the boy. He nodded. “I can get behind that.”

He offered his hand again, and this time Yū shook it—though still with some reluctance. “Call me Kurokōri.”

The LDS Duelist blinked. “Just Kurokōri,” the Duelist went on. “No need for nicknames or call-signs yet. And don’t mind the teeth,” he grinned lopsidedly. “You’re not the kind of person they’re meant for.”

“That’s reassuring,” Yū said dryly. “So—what’re you doing here?” It was only by the skin of his teeth that he resisted asking, “So you’re not here to stalk me or the kids I’ve been teaching, is what you’re saying?” instead.

“That’s a story I wish I had time to explain tonight,” said Kurokōri, “but it may have to wait.” He was looking up and down the alleyway—at one point looking past Yū, and then above him, so intently that the LDS Duelist craned his neck to see where he was staring, but saw nothing every time.

Finally, Kurokōri sighed. “Look—here’s all you need to know for now. I’m from another dimension. I’m part of a group that was fighting a war with a third dimension. From what I heard, that war spilled over into your dimension not too long ago. Now it sounds like you’re wading into the fray as well with these Lancers I’ve heard about.”

Several seconds passed before Yū was aware of a tingling in his eyes, and realized he’d forgotten to even blink. “Okay, I’m sorry, you lost me,” he said blankly. “Just … what.”

Kurokōri pinched his brow in agitation. “There are four dimensions known to exist,” he said impatiently. “Three of them are named after the Summoning method they use: Fusion, Synchro—and Xyz, where I’m from. You can probably guess which dimension those invaders belong to. Yours is the fourth dimension—the Standard. Don’t ask me why it’s called that—my guess is you guys haven’t nailed down a name just yet.”

None of this was explaining anything to Yū at all—if anything, every sentence Kurokōri spoke aloud seemed to birth scores more in his brain. Possibly the Xyz Duelist had noticed, because the moment Yū had opened his mouth: “No—no, don’t ask questions,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve got no time; I don’t know if I was followed here. I’ll give you the distilled version when we have more time to talk.”

Yū huffed, and crossed his arms. “Get to the point, then. Tell me why you’re here.” He’d barely known this boy for five minutes, and he’d already exhausted his daily quota of tolerable secrecy. Any more than that and Yū would start entertaining a second call to the police—one that wouldn’t be jammed by any Duel Disks this time.

Kurokōri took in his impatient tone, and sighed. “About the Lancers … ” he said. “I’ve heard some talk about what they’re aiming to do to that evil Academia school. I just want you to know, I have nothing against the Lancers—I just want to be the one who throws the first punch. Before I start winding up, though, I may need your help.”

He started pacing around, back and forth, his odd yellow-green eyes never leaving Yū’s for a second. “I saw you with those kids earlier today,” he said. “They like you, I think—they look up to you. They’re the sorts of people who could follow you into battle. I’ve seen younger kids than them pick up a Duel Disk and fight Academia’s Dueling soldiers. Some of them even won. Think they’d want in?”

Yū stood there, shell-shocked. No, he hadn’t been hearing things, he eventually decided; Kurokōri had just asked him, as straight-faced as could be, if kids that hadn’t even hit puberty were fine with signing up to fight a war.

But before he could categorically say no—or barring that, to politely tell this man where he could shove his offer—a memory had resurfaced in Yū’s mind, one of many he’d made on the day he’d first met his two pupils …

“ … Okay, then. So we know why you came to the table,” he said, taking a moment to stretch his legs. “It's time to see what you're bringing to it."

Yūrei’s spiky hair whipped upward. Kaede leaped up from where she'd been sitting as if from a springboard. “Are we gonna Duel?” she squeaked hopefully. “Sweet! I wanna see what kind of cards you've got!”

“Well … ” A thought had occurred to Yū just then—a reason why, perhaps, Himika had sent him to scout these kids out. “Here's the thing. You know how I mentioned before that it takes more than a Duelist to be a Lancer?”

They nodded.

“I think the reason the Lancers are the Lancers isn't only because they're just that good at Dueling,” Yū explained. “It's because they're able to thrive under pressure as well. They're put inside an unfamiliar situation, and told to solve it as only they can. If they can solve it, boom—they're a Lancer.”

Yūrei looked puzzled. "I don't get it."

“I'm getting there,” Yū smiled at him. “Now, if you were watching the Maiami Championship, then I'm guessing you saw at least one of my Duels there. I was a returning champion, after all—they'd have been crazy to not show at least one. But you probably saw a bunch of the cards I played in those Duels. Am I right?”

Another pair of nods.

“So you already know what to expect from me, then. But,” and Yū's smile grew a little wider, “this is the first time you two have met, haven’t you? So neither of you has any idea what the other can do.”

“I know she's a better cook than I am,” Yūrei admitted, pointing a thumb at a brilliantly blushing Kaede.

But the little girl recovered quickly. “And I know he’s not as mean as he looks—he's a big ol’ softie,” Kaede sniggered at Yūrei, who failed to hide a blush of his own even as he stuck his tongue out at her.

“That's all well and good,” Yū told them, “but neither of you knows what this means for their Dueling abilities. Which is why you're not going to Duel me … ”

Yū blinked. If it were any other time, he would have tossed the idea into the closest bin he could find. They were in an alley—he could have had his pick of them if he wanted. But in the time since that day, he’d come to learn a lot about Kaede and Yūrei. For all that they were little kids, boisterous and belligerent, sometimes kids had a unique way of looking at the world that adults, and even bigger kids such as he, couldn’t quite match.

And so it was that he made his decision. He took out his Duel Disk, and began punching in numbers. “If you think ten-year-olds are cool with being … freedom fighters,” he said as he did this, “then maybe it’s best you don’t take my word for it. Be a little patient—then you can ask them yourself.”

He brought the device to his ear. “Give me a sec.”

One “sec” later, the call came through—and Yū instantly regretted doing what he had. A karaoke song was blaring in the background—he could tell because someone was trying to sing along with it, and failing miserably. So loud was the noise from both song and singer that he almost didn’t hear the “Hello?”

“Yūrei?” Yū furrowed his brow in concern—the Wight Duelist sounded as though he’d aged well into his teens.

“Yū? Oh—thank something it’s you! She’s a lunatic! If you hadn’t called me when you did … ”

She?! Then Yū heard the screechiness of the voice that was singing—and finally put two and two together. That’s supposed to be Kaede?!

“Can you tell her to stop for a bit?” he asked. “I’ve got a question for the both of you.”

Yūrei was heard to utter a sigh of resignation. “Hold on.”

There followed some very colorful language—Yū would have to talk to them about that at some point in their next lesson—and finally a gasp of delight. Whatever song was blasting forth ended suddenly, replaced with what sounded like Kaede sprinting for Yūrei’s Duel Disk and snatching it out of his hand against his protesting.

“HIYA, YŪ-SENSEI! MY GRANDMA JUST BAKED SOME SNACKS AND YŪREI SAYS I HAD TOO MANY OF THEM BUT I SAID THERE’S NO WAY YOU CAN HAVE TOO MUCH OF MY GRANDMA’S COOKING AND HE TOLD ME TO PROVE IT AND NOW—”

There was a sudden flump and a muffled, squeaky “Ouchie … ” It sounded to Yū—still massaging his already aggrieved ear from the onslaught of noise—as though Yūrei had smacked Kaede upside the head with a pillow.

Yū massaged his temples.  " … And now you're a little bit hyper?" he finished tentatively.

“And now she’s a little bit hyper,” Yūrei echoed, mercifully more quiet than Kaede. “Sorry about that.”

But Yū waved it off. “We’ll talk about it later. Just put me on speaker for right now—I want her to listen in.” He paused until he heard the telltale click of this being done. “Okay—question for you both. How early can you meet me in Central Park tomorrow morning?”

Yūrei exhaled. “I’d have to spend the night here. Kaede lives a lot closer to the park than I do.” Yū thought he heard giggling from Kaede, wherever she was, but Yūrei must have glared at her to desist. “But we could make it there by lunch if she hurries with getting ready for class.”

There was the sound of a very wet raspberry in the background. “That’s why you want to meet us there, right, Yū?” asked Yūrei. “Are we practicing again?”

Yū stared at Kurokōri. The Xyz Duelist nodded for him to go on. “ … Not exactly,” he said after a fashion. “See, I ran into someone on the way home tonight. Apparently he saw me tutoring you and Kaede earlier today, and now he wants to meet you as soon as you’re both free.”

“Wicked.” Yū could practically hear the Wight Duelist grinning. “Can we bring our Duel Disks?”

He laughed. “Go right ahead. I had a feeling from the get-go that he wanted to see what your Decks can do.”

“Awesome! Wait—hold on.” Yūrei was heard to duck away; Yū thought he’d heard Kaede said something, but she was either too far away from the speaker or too out of sorts from her sugar high that he couldn’t make it out.

Before he’d thought too much of it, though, Yūrei was back. “Okay … so,” the Wight Duelist said hesitantly, “Kaede wanted to know if we could, um … bring friends?”

Yū froze. He’d expected his plan to go off the rails at some point—but definitely not this quickly. It was bad enough that Kurokōri wanted preteen Duelists to help him fight a war that said Duelists probably had more interest in fighting firsthand than he did himself. But the thought of them inviting friends to this—inviting, as if the whole thing was some sort of field trip—was so ludicrous that he could not help but feel a sense of dread hanging over him about this entire venture already. Putting that many kids in the line of disaster was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

And yet … “Hold on,” he muttered, and rounded on Kurokōri. He could tell the boy had heard everything; the look on his face suggested to the LDS Duelist that he was doing some very quick thinking.

“I don’t know how many friends they have,” he eventually said. “Or how many they might want to invite. But I understand why you’re concerned. And I do want to keep this circle small—if too many people are involved, it’ll be too easy to lose track of even one of them. So let’s narrow it down—I want anyone they think is the best of the best. Anyone they think can keep a cool head under pressure. And most important of all … I want Xyz Duelists—only Xyz Duelists,” he stressed. “If they use anything else, or if they don’t use it at all, I won’t take them. They’re out. I’ll understand if they can’t find anyone,” he grunted, holding his hands up in defense, “but I’d like to hope.”

His lips briefly twitched in a smile. “I haven’t had the chance to hope for a long time. Not until I met you.”

Touched Yū certainly was, but that was still a lot he was asking of kids, he thought as he relayed Kurokōri’s words to Yūrei. Most kids were hardly the “best of the best”, even if they liked to boast that they were to anyone who would listen. And, sometimes, standouts did pop up every so often. Yū, however, had learned the hard way that not every prodigy could stay calm in times of crisis. And of the three different methods of Extra Deck Summoning that LDS had a course for, Xyz Summoning was considered the most difficult to master. It wasn’t something every other kid in Maiami City would have learned how to do before they’d entered their teens.

But perhaps this could be the chance to find out, he thought. “ … anyone you know that uses Xyz,” he finished.

“Got it!” said Yūrei. “I can think of at least one person who might be able to help you out.” He made an “oh!” noise just then, as if he’d remembered something. “Hey, did someone try to call you earlier?”

Yū blinked. “Not sure. We were … talking for long enough I didn’t think to check. Why?”

“No reason. Someone tried calling me and Kaede earlier asking about you. I only saw because I was looking at my Duel Disk when they called me again. Sounded like a man. Big man, too. He said he was with your school.”

With LDS? Yū racked his brains for any big men he might have seen on the campus, but came up with zero faces. “Probably something about my homework,” he decided, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’ll give you two some time to scout around tomorrow morning,” said Yū. “We’ll meet up at noon with anyone you find. You get all that, Kaede?”

There was a bout of uncontrollable giggling from the Cuisine Duelist. Then: “PILLOW FIGHT!”

Then, for the second time tonight, Yū heard a muffled flump—and suddenly it was Yūrei’s turn to topple to the floor with a groan. Any chance of hearing an answer among the squeals and shrieks that followed came closer to zero with every second. Eventually, Yū gave up and ended the call, sensing that he would have to trust Yūrei as the more sensible half tonight, and pray that was enough for neither of them to forget the plans they'd made.

“Well,” he said as he turned to Kurokōri, “I did the best I could. We’ll have to see who meets us—”

But he broke off suddenly, and with good reason: Kurokōri was nowhere to be seen.

Confounded, the LDS Duelist turned in a full circle, wondering when the Xyz native had seized the chance of leaving the alley. It must have been sometime when he was too absorbed in his call to notice what Kurokōri was doing—but even then, the only way out of the alley was the slice of city nightlife he was looking at right now. He couldn’t have left through there … could he?

Yū stared at the scene without really seeing anything for a few long moments. Then, he yawned—and all of a sudden he was aware of just how tired he was. Tracking Kurokōri down could wait, he decided.  He needed rest for the long day he was certain lay ahead.

And so he set off for home, uncertain about what tomorrow might hold—but Sakuragi Yū could not deny the excitement that came with the possibilities tomorrow always brought with it.

Within seconds of his departure, the alleyway was as quiet and undisturbed as it had always been.

Later

The car arrived quietly, with little fanfare. Three men got out, each of them big and burly. The biggest of them was in the lead, stepping out of the passenger seat and drawing himself to his near two-meter height.

The lights of the alley cast shadows on his face. A single gesture sent the other two men into the car. They emerged seconds later with some complex-looking devices, slightly larger than a Duel Disk, but nowhere near as portable.

He produced a mobile, and dialed a number. “We’ve reached the Duel site,” he said brusquely, wasting neither words nor time as he spoke. “No sign of Sakuragi, or whoever he was Dueling. Permission to pursue?”

“No need, Nakajima,” said the cool voice of the colder woman on the other end of the line. “I’m reading his vital signs now—he must still be wearing his Duel Disk, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. He arrived home a few minutes ago. Probably went straight to bed—from the look of things, he fell asleep wearing his Duel Disk. Again,” she noted with a tiny humph. “He certainly takes his tutoring seriously, Sakuragi.”

Nakajima nodded. The news reassured him slightly. When they had failed to contact Sakuragi, they had tried reaching out to his two pupils instead. For whatever reason, they had not answered either—which was why Nakajima and his team had found themselves out here so late at night, looking for something he didn’t even know might still be here. His orders were orders, however—he had no choice but to follow them.

“All right. We’ll canvass the area,” he said gruffly. “We already know a high-level Xyz Summon took place here.” Nothing too strong, he remembered from the readouts the scanners had detected earlier, but definitely nothing from their end. “We got here soon enough that it’s possible there may still be some residual energy left behind. That could help us find out about whoever he was Dueling.”

“I’ll hear from you tomorrow,” said his employer. “Don’t attract attention.” The call ended a second later.

Nakajima was no stranger to his calls ending abruptly. But scarcely had he pocketed his phone when one of the men he’d brought with him came up. Concern was etched all over his face.

“We found something,” he said.

Nakajima nodded. “Then it’s definitely a foreign Xyz Summon?”

“Not just that,” said the technician. “It’s … You’d better see this for yourself.”

He took Nakajima to one of the walls of the alley, pointing to the decaying mortar that bound the bricks together. On that mortar was something the LDS employee had to squint to see in full.

His lips peeled back in apprehension. “ … What the devil is that?”

Chapter Text

IV

The first rays of sunlight streamed in through the front window of the toy store, and the large doll that dominated the platform beyond—only to be greeted seconds later with a huff by the sole occupant of the shop floor. Blue eyes squished themselves shut against the dawn while their owner shifted the object of her annoyance—a spindly-looking, 3D-printed hand made to look like burnished brass—to where it wasn’t reflecting the light into her gaze.

It was hard to watch Maki Kiko work and believe she was that good at what she did, considering her age—and her arm. Twelve years of living and breathing toys from the day she was born—half of which had been spent watching her parents repair them, and the other half repairing them herself—had made their only child their go-to option for any time someone brought in a toy to be repaired or refurbished. Kiko had no doubts that this store was to be hers before long—or that she would be expected to do more than just tend to toys while her parents tended tills.

For her, the older that toy was, the more exciting it was to dive into its innards and figure out how it worked. Circuit boards and blinking lights meant little to Kiko—not when enough old-fashioned clockwork was capable of doing the same thing. She ascribed this love of antiquity to the first toy she’d ever dismantled and successfully put back together: a child’s music box, complete with twirling ballerina. She’d been six years old then, and had borne one of the crueler jokes of nature for the six years before that—just as she would for the rest of her life.

Kiko paused in her work, sparing a moment to aim a withering glare at the equally withered stump where her right hand should have been. Having only the one hand meant that she’d needed her parents’ help for the more labor-intensive parts of putting that toy back together. But the last piece of the music box to repair and replace had been hers to complete, and that was enough for her. Since that day, Kiko’s deformity had not troubled her in the slightest—even back then, she had known that she could accomplish everything she put her mind to with one good arm that everyone else could manage with two. That was true with toys—and with Duel Monsters as well.

A strand of light brown hair fell across her eyes just then. A quick puff blew it to the side just as quickly—and in less time than it would have taken for her malformed arm to do the same thing; she needed to concentrate.

The object of that concentration was sitting on the counter before her, just out of the sun’s rays: a brass flower just big enough to fit into her palm, of much the same antique style as the artificial limb off to the left. Fragile petals had been pulled aside on hidden hinges, exposing the tiny, many-toothed gears underneath. If she squinted, she could just about see the polished iron teeth, and the miniscule pins on the cylinder that plucked them.

Kiko frowned. Both the cylinder and the reeds had been cleaned and polished last night, she knew. So they’re not dirty. She felt for the dial in the back of the flower, turned it just a little bit, and listened intently to the song it played for the next few seconds—during which time her frown turned more into a grimace.

“Just as I thought,” she grumbled under her breath. This won’t do at all.

So absorbed was she in her task that she didn’t immediately notice the woman appearing from the staircase that led up to their living space. “Are you still working on that flower, Kiko?” she wondered out loud. “It looks nice!”

“Hey, Mom,” Kiko yawned back. “I’m not working on the flower—that’s already done.” She couldn’t help but feel her pride at how well the metal of the petals had been restored. “What I’m trying to do is make it play Itsuki no Komoriuta”—she waved her left, whole hand carelessly at the flower, its last few notes tinkling into silence—“but the pitch is all off. I think the reeds I found the other day to put inside it are too thick.”

Blue eyes blinked behind brown hair—both of which had been inherited by her daughter, down to the shade. “Well, you’ve still been working on this for the past few days, though,” she said, flipping the sign in the store window to OPEN. “Why don’t you take a break? It’s going to be such a nice day out, and you’ve been hunched over that counter since you got up this morning—you’ll have ruined your posture by the time you take over this store.”

Kiko considered this. “Maybe you’re right,” she shrugged, hopping down from the stool she’d been perched on and retrieving her prosthetic hand. With her other hand she rolled a black spandex sock up over the withered stump, onto which she placed the contraption. Kiko spent the next few seconds flexing each thin finger experimentally—waiting for the myoelectric sensors inside to register the muscle movements that the stub of her right arm could still produce—until she’d judged them in working order, and then layered a thick black glove over that too, designed to protect the prosthetic’s inner workings from the rigors of a tween-aged Duelist’s average day.

“I’m thinking of meeting up with some classmates of mine from Lily’s,” she told her mother as she did this. “The city aquarium’s supposed to have an attraction going on today with a dolphin smart enough to Duel. Got its own Deck and everything. If I hurry”—she smoothed the glove over her arm—“I might be able to catch a morning show, grab some lunch on the way home, and I could be back in time for the afternoon rush.”

“A Dueling dolphin?!” Kiko knew her mother had never been as quick to embrace Duel Monsters as she had, and so her surprise was justified—not that the notion of any animal besides a human being capable of Dueling was an easy one to grasp. “Goodness … if I didn’t have to worry about store hours, I might come with you just for that. Were you going to take Karen with you?”

Kiko bit her lip. “I wish I could, Mom. I really do. But when I visited her yesterday, the nurse said I should give her another week before she’s ready to leave the hospital. She’s been getting more responsive, but they want to work her back into the world bit by bit. If she does too much too quickly, she could have an even worse regressive episode—it’d be like the Maiami Championship all over again.”

Kawai Karen was not simply a classmate of Kiko’s—she was a buddy: one half of the special relationship each of the pupils of Lily’s Duel School were expected to cultivate in their time there. The founder of the school believed that Duel Monsters should be more than just a sport or a pastime, but something every person should be able to experience in their lives—even if fate had dealt them a crueler lot in life than a typical kid in Maiami City. And while Karen’s lot had certainly been less cruel than others—unlike Kiko, her limbs and body remained whole and intact—the same, unfortunately, could not be said about the rest of her.

The front door burst open at that point, causing the bell above to tinkle rather louder than it should have, and was instantly followed by the telltale sound of sprinting feet. Instantly, her mother’s face had turned severe.

“Excuse me,” she said, turning around, “but we do have a no-running policy in here—oh!” she gasped. “Kaede!”

Kiko had already stiffened—she would know the pitter-patter of those heels anywhere—and almost immediately, a huge grin had broken out over her face. She’d known their owner since before kindergarten.

“Hiya, Kiko!” Kaede’s head barely peeked over the counter—and even then, what little of it Kiko could see was mostly blonde hair.

As she reached out with her left hand to hug her childhood friend, however, Kiko noticed several things in rapid succession. The Cuisine Duelist’s hair had been twisted into a long French braid today—just another one of her ever-shifting preferences in fashion. The dress she was wearing had significantly less ruffles in its volume, which struck Kiko as odd—she knew Kaede loved to wear those fancy, wide, blooming gowns even on her days off school. A quick look at the little girl’s round face revealed a little less makeup than was her usual as well.

Kiko had spent a lifetime growing up with toys. Enough of that life had been spent taking them apart, tinkering with their innards, and putting them back together that her mind was rather sharper—and her eyes rather keener—than might be expected of a girl her age. In those few seconds that their hug had lasted, therefore, Kiko had surmised enough to suspect Kaede hadn’t waltzed into her parents’ store for mere gossip and girl-talk.

Sure enough: “Are ya busy today?” Kaede chirped.

“Not really,” answered Kiko. “I was about to go to the aquarium to check out that dolphin show. Wanna come?”

Like her mother, she saw the spark in Kaede’s eye as well at the notion of a Dueling dolphin. “Maybe,” said the little girl, “but I got a better idea!” She grinned. “You know that boy from LDS who’s been tutoring me?”

Kiko did—and not without a tiny bit of envy at Kaede’s luck—but it would take more than a difference in Dueling education to ruin their friendship. “What about him?”

“He made a friend last night after he dropped me off at my grandma’s,” Kaede said, “and his friend wants to meet me at lunch to see how well I can Duel with Xyz Monsters! I guess he must use them too, because I said I knew a friend who used Xyz, too—and he told me I could bring you along!”

Oh boy. Kiko pinched at the bridge of her nose, just barely concealing an exasperated moan. This was not the first time she had had to remind herself that Kaede was younger than she was—and, therefore, much more impulsive. Nor was it the first time she’d had to admonish the little girl for roping her into her schemes without first telling her.

What took her aback despite her annoyance was this friend Kaede’s tutor had apparently made. He had sounded uncannily eager to meet two people he’d never before seen in his life—both of whom, she couldn’t help but note, were preteen girls. But Kiko immediately forced that thought out of her brain—it was far too early in the morning, and far too nice of one as well, to harbor such unwelcome, intrusive notions.

She sighed, and looked her friend in the eye. “ … Kaede, I’m flattered,” she said, “but just because I’m the only person in my Duel School who uses Xyz doesn’t mean I’m good at it.” That wasn’t completely true—Karen was taking online courses to enter the school from her long-term patient ward at Maiami City General Hospital, and Kiko was slowly but surely helping her to master Xyz Summoning as well.

But Kiko had received a firsthand glimpse of just how powerful that advanced Summoning method could be—and how much farther she had left to master it herself—only a few weeks ago, at a major tournament in Ōsaka. She’d had the misfortune of going up against one of the many students that the Leo Duel School had sent there; Kiko hadn’t even taken a single Life Point off him before the lopsided defeat that followed.

“Besides,” she added, “I’m hoping to meet some friends from school at the aquarium today.”

“So?” Kaede didn’t look fazed at all by this. “Let me come with you! We can meet his friend later if we leave now! Maybe we can meet someone there to come with us after that—your friends could come if they wanted!”

Kiko bit her lip. “I’m not sure, Kaede,” she said. “I don’t want to make anyone feel like a third wheel at all … ”

“Ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ease?”

She bit her tongue just as quickly—she knew the doleful stare that was about to follow Kaede’s whine. “You don’t have to be so insistent that I bring you along,” she soothed. “There’s no need to make this sound like some sort of competition to see how many friends you can bring to meet your tutor.”

Kaede—who’d been on the verge of employing the saddest stare in her arsenal—promptly blinked it away. “It … kinda is,” she said, shuffling her polished white shoes on the floor with telltale awkwardness. “I’m being tutored with a boy who goes to the Wight School. I … might’ve bet him that I could find more friends than he could.”

The Wight School?! Kiko felt something twinge in her jaw. She’d not been to that Duel School, but what she knew of their Duelists left her in no small amount of shock that they’d managed to grasp Xyz Summoning in the first place. Let alone, she thought, that an LDS student had decided one of their student body was worth being tutored.

Kiko stared at the brass flower, still lying on the store counter, then to her room, visible from the railing above. She saw her clothes for the day still hanging from her door, where she’d put them last night—an elaborate copper-and-golden-brown ensemble that clashed magnificently with her prosthetic hand—and beyond that, on the edge of her dresser, the faint corner of a bright red Duel Disk.

Finally, she rolled her eyes. “All right—let me get my things,” she sighed, and Kaede danced where she stood in glee. “Sorry, Mom,” Kiko apologized on the way to her room. “I guess I’ll be back later than I thought. I’ll try to be back by dinner—I’ll call you if that changes.”

Her mother beamed. “Have fun!” She knew her daughter was more responsible than her age let on. Perhaps she’d been the same way in her youth, Kiko thought as she went upstairs to change.

“C’mon—you go up there!”

“No—you do it! I’m too nervous!”

“Let’s Duel for it! Winner gets to ask him!”

“Don’t be silly—he’ll be gone by the time we’re done!”

From the table outside the coffee shop he frequented, Vladislav Roşu could see the trio of schoolgirls huddled on the street corner over the edges of the book in his other hand. He could hear their whispers clearly enough, owing to the relative lack of traffic during these daytime hours—and they only served to make his mood all the more sour.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to Duel or not. On the one hand, mused the Romanian boy as he took a sip of his latte—being exceedingly careful to not spill a drop—it would give him the time he needed to finish his drink and begin his daily routine. Perhaps if they took their time, he might even finish the chapter he was reading right now. On the other hand, if the girls decided to have their Duel right here, right now, it would cause enough of a spectacle that his entire train of thought would be derailed. He’d lose his place in Carmilla, or end up spilling his coffee if one of their monsters’ attacks went awry … or they might just forgo the Duel and talk to him straightaway.

He liked that scenario even less than the ones before.

Roşu glanced at the window of the coffee shop, thinking it might be best to step inside and find an empty seat. He saw faintly the boy of seventeen—tall, pale, and skinny as a rail—reflected in the window, staring back at him from under his own ink-black hair, so meticulously trimmed, combed and washed that not a single strand of it was out of place. He looked past the freshly ironed black blazer and matching pants, specially tailored for him and him alone—

He blinked—the pin on his left collar was crooked again. The Romanian sniffed, reaching to align the insignia of the Duel School he attended for the tenth time today. It took five seconds before he was satisfied with his work—but the satisfaction had drained from his body just as quickly when he looked past his reflection in the shop window, and saw the lack of empty tables inside.

Roşu sniffed again; there was nothing else for it. He went back to his drink and his book, and absorbed himself in the latter as quickly as he could.

His dark gray eyes, narrowed in concentration, only managed to make their way down half the page before something moved on the other side of the table, just visible over the edge of the book. He sniffed a third time, swearing under his breath in his native tongue; he had a suspicion he knew who that might be.

With great care, Roşu set aside his drink, bookmarked his page, and adjusted his collar pin yet again before he felt prepared enough to give the interrupter his attention—or at least, as much as could be hoped for.

The girl was twelve, maybe thirteen, and dressed in what might have been the uniform of any school in this city. Her bobbed black hair reminded him of a friend he’d made in his school’s exchange program—one of a rare few he’d made in his time there—but all similarities ended there. The face beneath was a deep crimson, and two steps from full-on hyperventilation—and her hands were clasped to her breast so tightly that Roşu vaguely wondered if her heart was beating so quickly, it was about to vibrate its way out of her body.

“Are you … Brad-is-rab Ro-shu?” the girl asked breathlessly.

The Romanian felt a muscle twitch in his eye that went unnoticed by the girl. Perhaps she’d mistaken it for a wink; at any rate, she was too smitten at his appearance to know that asking her question had been her second strike. The first one had happened the moment she’d been smitten at all; Roşu liked such first impressions even less than he liked people attempting to pronounce his name—especially in this country.

“Just Roşu,” he replied, managing somehow to keep his voice indifferent. His European accent was thick, but smooth enough to make up for the coarseness of his language. “What you want?”

The girl hopped where she stood. She took a quick look at the street corner behind her; Roşu suspected her friends were there even before his gaze swiveled the same way, just for an instant. Sure enough, there they were, flashing silent thumbs-up to egg her on.

Somehow, it was enough. “I just wanted to say that I saw you Dueling at the Inter-Prefectural Championships earlier this month and I thought that you were the coolest Duelist there and your Deck was the coolest one there and if it isn’t too much to ask could you maybe teach me to be a cool Duelist like you?”

The girl said all this very fast, and without even pausing for breath. The end result was that by the time she got to her question, her voice had gone rather high-pitched, and her face had gone from beet red to berry blue in less time than it took to name all the colors of the rainbow in between. Roşu, through it all, said nothing, biting his tongue the whole time and pretending to sip his coffee.

By now, the girl was almost vibrating in place. “And … ” she managed to squeak, “m-maybe sign my Duel Disk?”

The Romanian resisted the urge to massage his temples with his free hand. Strike three. “Se comportă astfel de fiecare dată … ” he muttered to himself, thankful that the coffee cup muffled the vast majority of his words.

The girl had heard him, though, but did not understand, and had thus settled for tilting her head in confusion. “I am reading,” Roşu clarified, with the tiniest bite of impatience. “Come back later. We talk when I am done.”

He shooed the teenager away as if one might a dog. The schoolgirl didn’t even look abashed by the dismissal; she bounced in place with a barely suppressed squeal before scampering away to rejoin her friends. Roşu heard them jabber away at one another until well after they had disappeared around the corner.

Only then did he finally exhale. That had been less painful than he’d anticipated. He took another sip of his coffee, and then returned to his book—but for some reason, Carmilla did not hold Roşu’s attention quite as much as he’d been hoping for. He could no longer concentrate on the words in front of him.

“Smooth moves, Dracula.”

Roşu had heard the voice before, and that was the only reason he stayed where he sat despite his surprise. Even then, his thin eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his ebon hair from the unexpected interruption behind him.

“You’re not going to be here when she gets back, are you?” Yashiki Yūrei asked. Even from out of the corner of his eye, Roşu could see the boy’s two-toned bangs sticking out a full foot in front of his face, freshly gelled into their usual bladelike shapes.

He huffed with disapproval, but did not turn around. “People like her … one look at me—one look at Deck—suddenly gaga,” grunted the Romanian. “What good are monsters, if not to be feared, hmm?”

“Got me there,” shrugged Yūrei. He did not say anything for a while after that; Roşu took the time to drink some more coffee before the boy spoke again. “You know … I could give you a reason not to meet her.”

“Mm?” Roşu had the impression Yūrei was choosing his words with an extreme amount of care.

“Sakuragi’s in your year, right?” He knew the name, and nodded. “He and a friend are getting some Xyz Duelists together later today. I thought you might want in.”

Roşu’s narrow eyes narrowed further still. “This friend … not another fan?” he ventured.

“I don’t even think he knows who you are,” said Yūrei. “He definitely didn’t mention you by name. And actually, now that I’m thinking about it,” he added, “I don’t think I even asked if he was from around here … ”

But Roşu was already draining the last of his latte. “Good enough for me.” He stood up, carefully tucking Carmilla back in the black leather attaché case leaning against his chair—and then tucking the chair back against the table where he’d found it, a task that took all of fifteen seconds before he was satisfied. Then he’d fished out a mirror-polished Duel Disk, even darker in color than the attaché that contained it, from a separate compartment inside.

“Need to make text,” he said, finally turning towards Yūrei. “We leave now, hmm? Before gaga girls come back?”

Yūrei laughed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” They walked off together. Such was their difference in height that the Wight Duelist had to take three steps for every two of his companion. “Who’re you texting?”

Even on its busiest of days, the Maiami City Museum of Natural History was sparsely populated. The largest of crowds often showed up with the onset of exam week for the university classes, with dozens of students making a twice-yearly trip to brush up on whatever they needed to for the grueling test that lay ahead. The last such trip had been a month ago; there were so few visitors here today that if two had been on opposing sides of the antechamber inside, they might have been able to hold a conversation with one another even at a whisper.

That was all to the better for the young woman inspecting today’s main exhibit: an overview of life during the Middle Cambrian Period. Her prominent jaw clenched as the pencil in her hand danced deftly over the sheet of paper held in her other hand, sketching out the trilobite fossil on the other side of the glass mere inches away. Beneath that was a tablet, whose screen—already glowing with the words of a lengthy essay in the making—reflected off the high cheekbones of her face, and the almond eyes set within, furrowed in concentration.

Not for the first time, Jong Bo-Yeon felt like she could live in this exhibit; she’d been a history buff almost since her days at primary school in South Korea. In middle school, her teacher had been startled at the report she’d written on the country’s Three Kingdoms; it had come very close to exceeding the combined length of the essays submitted by the rest of her class. By the time she’d had entered prep school, word of her appetite for the subject had spread to the point that one day, her world history teacher had offered to let her do the job instead; Jong had thought he’d been joking until the headmaster had personally entered the classroom the following morning to say a definitive no.

But for Jong, the older something was, the more of a history it possessed—and thus, the more about it she wanted to learn. So when she’d taken biology classes for the first time, and learned exactly how long the planet on which she stood had been supporting life—and how quickly that life had evolved over the vast eons between then and now—the Korean had been hooked from the get-go. Now she was seventeen, very near eighteen … very near university schooling back home, where wholly new plateaus of knowledge awaited her voracious mind.

Her tablet chimed just then, breaking her concentration. Frowning, Jong withdrew the sheet of paper on which she’d been sketching her trilobite. A chat window had just opened up at the bottom of the screen:

Strig01: 바쁘니?

A small smile creased an edge of her mouth. Roşu. He wanted to know if she was busy. She glanced at the report she’d been typing, and then at the sketch in her other hand. Her project was just about finished up, as far as she was concerned. She typed as much to her pen pal, wondering what he was up to as she did so.

MissJ: 프로젝트를 마무리. 너는 어때?

She took the time to duck into an alcove; the last thing she wanted was to hold up traffic in the exhibit—such as it was, she thought as she glanced at the sparse crowds. By the time she’d found a place to sit down against the wall, Roşu had replied back.

Strig01: 사쿠라기는 회의를 잡고있다. 익숙한 얼굴이 좋을 것이다.

Jong stared, feeling her mouth crease in a frown. Sakuragi? She knew who that was—a student in her year at LDS; just a bit younger than her, if she recalled correctly. She fingered the pin on her blouse collar absentmindedly.

She knew why Roşu wanted a familiar face for this so-called meeting, though. Jong had befriended the Romanian Duelist during the traditional meet-and-greet of the exchange program they attended together, and since then, she’d come to understand the stoic teenager in ways even most of their classmates at the Leo Duel School didn’t. But that still left the question of why Sakuragi Yū wanted to hold any sort of meeting involving him, as Roşu claimed—or her, for that matter—let alone what it was for. She decided to ask, and give herself time to think.

MissJ: 에 대한 회의는 무엇입니까?

It was almost a full minute before her friend responded back:

Strig01: 나는 잘 모르겠다. 새로운 친구에 대해 뭔가 및 XYZ 의 검투사 만.

Now Jong was puzzled. Roşu didn’t seem to know much more about this meeting beyond it involving a new friend of some sort, and that it was restricted to Xyz Duelists only. The latter was the more perplexing; for a brief moment, the Korean wondered if maybe the translation software in her tablet had gone on the blink in the midst of changing his native tongue to hers and back again, and was thus chopping up her friend’s replies.

But in spite of her confusion, Jong was nonetheless intrigued. She was an Xyz Duelist, after all, and so perhaps that was why her friend had seen fit to pass along word of this meeting to her. But why limit it to just Xyz people? For that matter, where would it even take place? She typed out the question she knew would net the simpler response:

MissJ: 이 회의는 어디 있습니까?

As she anticipated: Roşu’s reply was much quicker this time, for the length it was—quick enough, in fact, that the Korean was ready to rule out any software glitches for the time being:

Strig01: 우리는 공원에서 만난다. 서두가 없습니다. 오기 전에 시간이 좀 걸릴 수 있습니다.

The park, huh? Jong was guessing he meant the city’s Central Park—in which case, that was only half an hour’s walk away—quicker still if she felt like taking the bus. Still, Roşu had said there wasn’t any rush—and more intriguingly, that there were likely to be more besides the two of them, plus Sakuragi and whatever “friends” he’d found. I wonder how many more, she thought.

She glanced once more at the work she’d done. Her illustration was already far along that she could fill in the details later—and her report was a decent enough length that perhaps … if she found a stopping point … yes …

She smiled, and began to type.

MissJ: 내가 여기서 끝낼 때 올께. 걱정마. 나는 오래 기다리게하지 않습니다.

She only needed to wait for five seconds. Then:

Strig01: 괜찮아. 그때 봐.

사용자 Strig01 은 오프라인입니다.

Jong rose from her space against the wall once she’d seen the logoff message in her chat window. Then she closed that, and began making her way back to the exhibit she’d abandoned a few minutes ago, with somewhat more alacrity than before. I might be able to squeeze in one more page by the time I’m ready to leave, she decided.

As she walked, her arm brushed against the book bag tucked behind her arm, feeling—just for a moment—the familiar shape of the Duel Disk tucked inside …

If the thought had ever crossed Jong’s mind as to where all the crowds at the museum might have gone, she might have found an answer at the east side of town, close to the shoreline.

So many people had flocked to the Maiami City aquarium—specifically, the show that was currently in full swing at its outdoor arena—that Kaede, Kiko, and a handful of girls the latter went to school with all considered themselves very lucky that they were able to find any seats that weren’t in the nosebleed section. Not that they were looking to find anything in the front rows; Kaede’s clothes, while toned down from her usual fare, were still fancy-looking enough that Kiko didn’t want to take chances. She was slightly less worried about her own clothes getting wet as she was her synthetic arm; she’d never thought to ask the staff of Lily’s whether the glove that currently covered it was meant to work in a “splash zone”.

“Look—look!” one of her friends squealed. “Here he comes, here he comes!”

Kiko tore her eyes away from her prosthetic just in time to see the gray blur streak up from the enormous tank of water in front of them.

The dolphin breached the surface, rocketing up some twenty feet, and finally slipping back into the water—all with barely a ripple. The whole time, they were close enough to see the black, chevron-shaped birthmark that lined the sleek creature’s left fin—the same size, and almost the same shape, as the blade of an average Duel Disk.

But the dolphin was not the only star of the show today. No less than seven women were in the pool with him: each one dressed up in mermaid costumes—one for each color of the rainbow—that glimmered and sparkled in the sunlight catching off the water. The oldest of them, a woman with curly purple hair about the same age as Kiko’s mother, tossed a fish from a nearby bucket into the tank—where the black-finned dolphin snapped it up eagerly as the crowd continued to ooh and ahh in delight.

The youngest didn’t look much older than Kiko herself. Long pink hair trailed behind her as she swam laps around an outcropping of rock the size of a house, in close formation with four of her companions—two either side of her. The Duel Disk on her arm—the same shade of sky-blue as most of her costume—was almost invisible against the walls of the tank, and the sparkling water inside; only the sea-green blade that shimmered along the girl’s arm made it visible at all. A set of numbers trailed alongside her, just barely in her wake (LP: 2600).

Kiko was quick to note the astonishing speed at which these women all darted, twisted and turned through the water. Even with assistance, most human swimmers could barely manage more than four or five miles an hour—yet every girl in this tank, regardless of their age, was easily swimming twice that! Nor was she the only one to have noticed; she’d heard the surrounding spectators, during lulls in the action, mutter the same question to each other: how on earth could a human being swim that fast?!

At length, the pink-haired mermaid finally sprang up from the water to lounge on the rocks above. Across from her, the dolphin had paused at the other end of the tank from where those five mermaids swam. But there was plenty to see at this part of the watery stage as well: Kiko held her breath as she saw the cerulean-skinned creature bobbing just over the water’s edge, leering at the blue-clad mermaid with an ugly grin. Two more holographic displays shone above the water here—one over the dolphin itself (LP: 100), while the one above its armored back read (Level 4 » 3: ATK 1400 » 1600/DEF 1200 » 1400).

“All right—I think he’s ready to show us what he can do!” the purple-haired woman belted out through the headset she wore. The crowd cheered in anticipation; several of the younger boys and girls had even started a chant.

“Ryota! Ryota! Ryota!”

No doubt the dolphin—Ryota—had heard the kids egging him on; he now circled a gigantic contraption—like the keypad of an old cell phone, blown up bigger than a car—filled with equally large keys of different colors. Just large enough, Kiko had seen earlier, for Ryota to nudge with his snout.

That was exactly what he did moments later, causing many things to happen in quick succession: with a quick dive, Ryota had bopped the center key—orange with a black circle and plus sign within. Seconds later, the monster near Ryota had vanished with a dazzling flash of light; Kiko was just able to see a seventh mermaid burst from within it, flipping in the air before gracefully vanishing beneath the water.

But just as quickly, something even larger had appeared within the tank—almost half the size of the tank itself, in fact: a bluish, serpentine behemoth that looked even uglier than its predecessor (Level 7 » 6: ATK 2600 » 2800/DEF 1500 » 1700). The crowds gasped as one. One or two people even screamed.

“And it looks like Ryota’s Released his Codarus to Advance Summon a Levia-Dragon – Daedalus!” said the woman in amazement. “Look at the size of that thing! I think Sea Angel might be sunk, kids!”

Kiko was almost ready to believe Ryota knew that, too; the dolphin’s mouth looked uncannily like a grin as it prepared to lunge upwards once again. The mermaid called Sea Angel, meanwhile, was staring at the massive monster in such shock that her jaw threatened to bounce off the rock on which she sat.

When it did, even Kiko couldn’t help but join the audience in a collective “Wow!” Ryota soared ten, fifteen, twenty—and then finally through the huge hoop suspended a full twenty-five feet above the tank, which began to pulse with light the moment he’d done it.

Kiko wasn’t really sure what happened next. The Levia-Dragon – Daedalus had flicked out its massive tail—and then, almost as quickly, all that could be seen of the tank was a massive wall of foamy water. It crested the Plexiglas walls with ease, completely soaking the first few rows of the audience who’d been brave and prepared enough to sit inside the “splash zone” of the arena, and making them shriek in combined surprise and glee.

When the wave subsided, all that could be seen in its wake was Ryota’s keypad, Ryota himself—skittering across the surface, obviously having the time of his life—and the mermaid called Sea Angel, splayed across the rocks in defeat (LP: 0).

But even as the crowds had fallen silent at the sight of the latter, Sea Angel sprang up, waving to the crowds with an enormous grin on her face—and then, almost on cue, the arena had erupted in cheers. Kiko and Kaede were trying in vain to be the loudest of them.

“What a comeback, folks!” bellowed the woman. “Let’s hear it for the best Duelist under the Seven Seas—Ryota, the Dueling Dolphin!” She tossed one—two—three fish into the air, each higher than the last; Ryota caught them all in the same acrobatic leap, spreading out the fin with its black birthmark for all to see.

Then he skated over to Sea Angel and her retinue of mermaids with his tail, reaching out with his other fin. Sea Angel bumped it with her outstretched hand, with each girl following suit—and then Ryota skated back to the woman, who tossed one last fish right into his mouth before bumping his fin as well in a “high-five”.

“I’d like to see that You Show kid pull that off!” Kiko could barely hear herself shouting at Kaede, so loud were the crowds around them.

“I know, right?” Kaede’s grin was even wider than that of Sea Angel. “Hey—you showed me that girl Dueling Ryota earlier! You think we can meet her later?”

“We can try!” Kiko replied. “I don’t think they’ll let us backstage, but we can tell someone that works here. Maybe they can pass along word, and she can find us after the show!”

They stood up. “C’mon—we’ll wait outside for her,” Kiko told her as they began to leave. “Better if she doesn’t have to get through all these crowds first.”

It took the better part of an hour before the girl playing Sea Angel had stepped out of the aquarium, having replaced her costume with a sky-blue blouse, navy skirt and socks, and a kerchief tied round her neck of the exact shade of sea-foam green as her eyes. The look on her face, contrary to the cheerful one she’d donned for the show, was screwed up in annoyed concentration. Her pink hair, freshly toweled off, still drooped to one side as she tilted her head. This occupied her attention enough that she didn’t immediately see the two girls standing outside the door.

When she did, though, the way they were dressed made her forget all about the water she was attempting to coax out of her ears. Both were younger than she was: the smaller of them, the edges of her grin lost in more blonde hair than she’d thought a human head could support, looked more like she was dressed up for some kiddie fashion show than a trip to the aquarium. That wasn’t to say her brown-haired companion looked more appropriately dressed for the occasion, though: the copper-colored vest and maroon skirt she was wearing could only be described as “nineteenth-century punk”. The girl’s right hand was covered in a thick black glove that reached up to the elbow, and something she thought looked like a golden key dangled from around her neck.

The words her father had said earlier now sprang to mind: “ … A couple girls came up to me during your show … darnedest outfits I’ve ever seen … said they wanted to meet you after … you’ll know them when you see them … ”

The teenager groaned. “Sorry—could you give me a sec?” Her voice was husky for a girl of fourteen. She gave her head an experimental shake for a few seconds, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare, then finally sighed.

“Mm—that’s better. I had some water in my ears after that Daedalus swamped me. Didn’t get it all out by the end of the show.” She stretched. “So—it’s you, then? You’re the girls my dad said wanted to meet me?”

“Uh-huh!” The smaller girl nodded enthusiastically, causing every ruffle in her wide dress to wobble with her. She noted this with a raised eyebrow—before her gaze suddenly settled on the little girl’s older friend.

“Wait a minute … ” She peered in for a closer look—something about the girl’s brown hair and blue eyes—and especially that black glove—looked familiar to her. “I’m not good with names, but I know I’ve seen you before.”

She squinted. “You’re that left-hander out of Lily’s Duel School, aren’t you?” she asked. “Inter-Prefectural Championships, right? Ōsaka? Made it to the round of sixteen before Shijima Hokuto wiped the field with you?”

The girl cringed, blushing in embarrassment. “Yeah … not my best Duel,” she muttered. “At least my combo was nice while it lasted. Maki Kiko,” she introduced herself, then pointed to her still-smiling friend. “Okashi Kaede here has been my friend since before we started school. Not too long ago, someone who goes to the Leo Duel School started tutoring her.”

“Nice,” the teenager said—and she meant it, too. Tutoring in Duel Monsters didn’t sound so bad if the person who was teaching you went to the right school. “Is that why you’re here, then? You want to see how far you’ve come by Dueling me?”

“Kind of,” said the girl called Kaede. “My tutor and I are both Xyz Duelists. Last night, he made a friend who was an Xyz Duelist, too. And he said he wanted us to find some Xyz Duelists in town so he could meet them, too.”

“I recognized you from your hair, when I first saw you in the show,” Kiko added. “You went to the Blue Sea Duel School, I think. I saw you Duel a couple times at the IPCs as well, Sea Angel—and I remember you using some Xyz Monsters, too. So I thought, ‘What the heck?’” she shrugged. “‘Let’s find her after the show!’”

“Yeah, well—fat lot of good those Xyz Monsters did me back then,” ‘Sea Angel’ grumbled. “I got all the way to the quarterfinals—and then some meathead from Ryōzanpaku knocks me left, right, and center. I was so bruised after that sorry excuse for a Duel that I couldn’t swim for weeks after that!” She huffed. “I hope I live to see the day when that whole school gets sanctioned out of existence.”

She offered a hand. “And I’m only Sea Angel when I’m in costume. Right now, I’m just Kiri—Minakami Kiri.”

Kaede returned the gesture enthusiastically. Kiri’s gesture to Kiko, on the other hand, was awkwardly fumbled when the latter girl abruptly decided to extend her ungloved hand instead.

Kiri decided then to voice a question that had been occupying her mind from the start of this encounter. “Uh—Kaede, was it?” The little girl nodded. “You say you’re an Xyz Duelist and you’re being tutored by an LDS student who’s one himself?” Another nod. “Wow—you really lucked out, didn’t you? Xyz Duelists are supposed to be some of the more talented ones out there—and for LDS most of all. How’d you pull that off?”

“I’m not telling!” Kaede said in singsong, winking. “You’ll have to see for yourself!”

Kiko buried a hand in her face—but Kiri had seen the beginnings of an exasperated smile beneath. That’s how it’s going to be then, is it?

She heaved a sigh. “All right—be that way. I can play along for now. Just let me duck back inside and talk to my parents,” she said, heading back inside. “I think we can get someone to fill in for me while I’m gone.”

Kiko looked worried. “You think they’ll say yes?”

“Oh, I know they will,” Kiri replied, smiling. “I’m still in school, after all—I’ve had to cancel on them short-notice before. Study groups, Dueling practice, that sort of thing. My folks aren’t slave drivers—they know better.”

She waved, heading back inside. “Give me five minutes, I’ll be right out!”

No sooner had she closed the door, however, than Kiri began to feel a thoughtful frown creep onto her face as Kaede’s words sank in. Was someone else watching me Duel?

Perhaps it was this tutor she’d talked about—or even his new friend. She couldn’t help but wonder who that might be—though the notion that someone from the Leo Duel School, of all places, might not only have noticed her, of all people, but also apparently deemed her worthy of his attention, was no small boost of confidence to her self-esteem.

“If I pull this off, I could put Blue Sea on the map,” she said, half to herself. “In fact … I bet I could even teach LDS a couple things, too, if I impressed that girl’s tutor enough … ”

And with that thought, Kiri skipped down the hallway to meet her parents, already excited to think of what the afternoon might have in store for her.

Sakuragi Yū had planned as best he could. Which was a polite way of saying he’d planned exactly nothing at all.

It hadn’t occurred to him until he’d gone to bed last night that he should have exchanged his contact information with Kurokōri. That way, he could have spent this entire morning going over the details of his plan with him—such as those details were. Even this morning, as he’d showered and dressed himself, reorganized his Deck, gulped down his breakfast, and made sure his Duel Disk had been freshly maintained and its software fully updated, he was still kicking himself for not thinking of that one crucial detail.

Yū hoped this uncharacteristic lack of planning wouldn’t turn out to be a bad omen. But it had only been ten minutes into the journey from his house to Central Park, and the LDS Duelist hadn’t seen anything go wrong yet. His comb hadn’t broken when he’d used it this morning, and he’d waited until afterwards to trim his nails as well—

He shook his head. You’re overthinking this, he chided himself. The more you worry that something will go wrong, the more likely it is that it will. Just relax. Take a deep breath. It’s like the first meeting of a school club. Everyone meets each other for the first time, breaks the ice, and everything will go just f—

“Hey.”

Yū nearly tripped over his feet at the unexpected intrusion—less than a foot behind him, somewhere off to his right. Only flailing his arms out of reflex kept him from overbalancing and promptly eating the sidewalk with his face.

Thankfully, the brakes of a passing bus let fly with a loud, pneumatic hiss at the exact moment he swore at the top of his lungs. But Yū didn’t care if parents and children might have been around to hear it regardless—he was too busy rounding on the intruder to care.

Kurokōri, it seemed, had found a place to tidy himself up overnight—though where precisely he could go on short notice and even less yen was a mystery. But he was clean-shaven now, and his raven hair looked rather neater than last night; it had been styled and slicked back into streamlined triangular spikes that made Yū think of the sharpened teeth lurking beneath the Xyz Duelist’s lips. The longest of them were streaked with the highlights of forest green he’d seen last night, and the dye looked so vivid that he wondered if Kurokōri had just come from a barbershop.

There was nothing to be done for the scar on his face, though. Or perhaps Kurokōri had decided nothing was to be done. Maybe, Yū decided, he was proud enough of it that a simple application of Kaede’s makeup and concealer would have detracted from the first impression he wanted to give off.

“Morning to you, too,” Kurokōri smiled back thinly. Yū was inwardly grateful that he’d at least taken one lesson to heart from last night; the Xyz Duelist hadn’t shown a hint of his filed teeth yet. He’d also apparently dispensed with his scarf and goggles, though, which Yū had been hoping he’d wear to avoid Kaede and Yūrei getting scared half to death by the sight beneath.

“I thought I’d given off the impression that I didn’t like being surprised,” the LDS Duelist said testily. “Especially this early in the morning.”

Kurokōri blinked. “You didn’t hear me? I’m not exactly quiet on my feet. I’d called out when I saw you pass by.”

Had he? Yū hadn’t heard a thing. But then, he had been rather deep in thought on the way over just now.

He shrugged it off. “So—you ready for today?”

Kurokōri nodded. “I could be asking you the same thing,” he said. “This is your party, you know. I’m just an observer—I sit in the corner and look pretty.”

Yū fought down a smirk. The “war wound” route might cut ice with a couple girls he knew, but he personally—privately—thought Kurokōri could have the world’s most perfect teeth and still look a long way from pretty.

“And talking of sitting in the corner,” Kurokōri went on, “I had a brainwave when I got up, about how we could start this whole party off. I figure as long as we’re on our way over together, we can bounce some ideas off our heads. Here’s what I’m thinking … ”

As the Xyz Duelist kicked off the running commentary on the inner workings of his mind, though, Yū found it much easier to focus his own thoughts on what might await him in the park—whether he would find more kids like the ones he taught, ambitious minds like the one he possessed … or more hardened sorts than even Kurokōri himself.

Chapter Text

V

By the time a nearby clock had struck noon, Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri had reached the largest park in the city, chatting amicably as they crossed the winding paths beneath the trees.

“ … and with Ryota,” Kiri was saying to Kaede, who was listening to her so raptly that Kiko was having to tap her shoulder all the time so that she didn’t bump into anyone, “Aoi—my oldest sister—taught us to do this so that we could tell him he was doing a good job.”

She cleared her throat—and then made a high-pitched, warbling noise that was far too shrill to be birdsong. “I had to practice that for a week before my mom would even let me get in the water with him,” she said, a little hoarsely. “Being around dolphins is more than just a job, Kaede. It’s a way of life. A lot of little girls think it’s the coolest thing to do in the world—and they’d be right, let me tell you—but there’s more that goes into it than meets the eye.”

“Wow … ” The Cuisine Duelist’s eyes were round as tea saucers and almost as wide.

“So—hang on.” Kiko pointed out a bench up ahead, resting beneath a particularly shady tree. “You mentioned your mom and your oldest sister just now—are you saying all those mermaids in the show we saw are your family?”

“Yep,” Kiri said airily. “I’m the youngest of six—all sisters. My parents said they gave up trying for a boy after I was born.” She smirked slightly at the astonished look on both girls’ faces, then continued on. “My dad is head of building security, and my mom helps plan out all our shows. She’s been around dolphins for longer than I’ve been alive. The aquarium in this city might as well be the family business at this point,” she added with a laugh.

“You think you’ll be in charge of it when you’re older?” asked Kiko. “My mom and dad say that’ll happen to me with their toy store when I grow up.”

Kiri shook her head. “I don't think so. Aoi’s the oldest, so it’ll probably be her someday. That’s one good thing about being the youngest—they don’t expect as much from you as they might from your bigger sisters.”

She stretched. “Still … when I was little, I remember my mom bounced the idea around about us doing a traveling show with our whole mermaid gig. But then I got interested in Dueling and … well, too many commitments can tie you down, so we ended up staying here to help out at the aquarium. I’ve been teaching my sisters the basics of the game ever since. And,” she smiled, as they reached the bench, “I like to think I’ve bridged the gap because of it.”

The bloomers underneath Kaede’s dress made a foof noise when she sat down beside Kiko, who’d sandwiched herself between her and Kiri. “Bridged the gap?” Kaede repeated, pulling off her white shoes.

“Oh, yeah.” Kiri’s smirk grew wider. “The Blue Sea Duel School didn’t get its name for nothing. They weed out applicants with water-based physical tests.” She began ticking off fingers. “How fast you can swim, how deep you can dive, how long you can hold your breath—and after all that, how well you can multitask while you’re at it.”

Kiko blinked owlishly. “So that show at the aquarium wasn’t all the way scripted, is what you’re saying,” she said. “Your Sea Angel getup wasn’t just for show—you can actually swim and Duel at the same time?”

Kaede, who’d pulled out a dainty cloth with which to polish the shoes in her hand, goggled in disbelief. She was looking up and down at the Blue Sea Duelist, apparently unable to figure out how such a feat could be possible.

Kiri, for her part, merely shrugged. “ … Something like that. Obviously, it’s hard to do that if you’re actually in the water—but it does help when your Duel Disk and the cards in your Deck are completely waterproofed.” She shifted the purse hanging from her arm a little, allowing both girls to get a better look at the device inside. “It’s … easier if I show you,” she added, perhaps seeing Kaede’s inquisitive expression. “I hope I get the chance to do that today.”

“Mm-hm!” agreed the little girl.

They sat in silence for a while after that, stretching their legs after the journey from the aquarium. Kaede was dividing her attention between the shoes she was polishing and the park around them. She looked left and right—even past the trees and, at one point, under the bench they were sitting on.

“Where is he?” she muttered as a loose group of joggers ran past them.

Kiko had noticed her friend’s odd behavior. “You mean the guy who’s tutoring you?” she asked. “Could be he’s running late. But I don’t think you ever mentioned what time he was going to be meeting us, did you?”

Kaede shook her head. “Nah, it’s the boy he’s tutoring me with. He’s … kind of a weirdo.”

Kiri sniffed, leaning back against the bench. “If he’s from the Wight School like you said, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

“Wow—rude much?”

No one was really quite sure about the exact order of the events that ensued. Kiri had only remembered hearing someone speaking in a raspy voice one moment—directly above her left ear, very much out of nowhere. The next moment, she’d let fly with an earsplitting shriek that startled a flock of birds in the branches above, as well as several of the joggers that had passed them earlier.

She’d leapt off the bench and whirled around at the exact same time as a flailing Kiko, narrowly missing the girl’s gloved hand clipping her cheek. Kiri got a brief glimpse of the person who owned that voice—a lanky boy about the same size as Kiko, hanging upside down from one of the branches of the tree under which they’d been resting—right before the hand she’d managed to avoid clocked him right in his cheek, sending him off his perch with a yelp. He landed in a tangled heap of limbs and a thud that was mercifully cushioned by the grass beneath.

Kiko, still wide- and wild-eyed from the unexpected interruption, immediately clapped her other hand to her mouth once she realized what had happened. “Sorry—sorry!” she cried out hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!”

“Speak for yourself!” Kiri was clutching her chest, trying in vain to calm her thudding heart. “There’s a thing called personal space—have you heard of it, you little creep?!” she hollered at the boy behind the bench.

Kaede hadn’t even turned around; she still polished her shoes where she was sitting. “Hiya, Yūrei,” she said, as casually as if she’d just bumped into him on the street. There was no reply save for a long, pained groan behind her.

Rational thought caught up with Kiko at that point. “Wait—hold on. Was that the guy you were talking about?”

“Yep! Why’d you think I was looking everywhere? I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t scare you two!” Kaede peered behind the bench. “You okay down there, Yūrei?”

Another groan.

Kiri glared at Kaede. “Mission accomplished.” Her clenched teeth did little to keep the sarcasm out of her words.

A hand clutched the bench just then, hauling its owner to his feet. Kiri felt herself gawk at the sight in spite of her anger: the boy was even more outlandishly dressed than both Kiko and Kaede combined! A Black Crystal T-shirt—no doubt for one of those bands her parents would never let her listen to in a million years, judging by the design—clung tightly to his gangly frame, but that was about the most normal thing about his clothes. Everything else, from the boy’s heavy black boots and torn skinny jeans—held up with no less than three studded belts, she couldn’t help but notice—to the thick bands around his neck and right arm, was nothing but spikes, leather, or both. Most bizarre of all was his colorful hair: even with the slick, purplish-pink bangs, each long enough to spear her, there was still hair to spare—he’d gathered that into a ponytail. She felt a stab of envy; this boy’s hair was almost as long as hers.

Almost.

“You look ridiculous.” The words tumbled out of her mouth against her will, but it was true—and the angry purple bruise now blossoming across the boy’s cheek only drove that point home.

The boy called Yūrei stood now, holding the bench for support. Gray eyes blinked woozily as they tried to focus on Kiko. “Why’d you … hit so hard?” he managed to rasp.

That was as far as he got before a slim hand grasped him by his collar and spun him around. The hand’s owner—a tall girl in her late teens, and perspiring enough that Kiri assumed her to be one of the joggers that had passed by just now—looked hopping mad. One glance at her severe expression told Kiri she’d seen everything that had happened.

“Because,” the new arrival was growling through clenched teeth, “in case you haven’t noticed, people don’t like it when strangers pop up out of nowhere, thinking nobody else knows they’re there. Especially,” she added, “if those people are girls, and those strangers are boys.

“So you don’t need to apologize,” she said to Kiko—before turning her scornful gaze on Yūrei. “You, however … ”

“I still feel bad that I hit him!” Kiko protested. “I flail around a lot when I get startled—it’s not the first time that—”

She broke off. Her eyes had flicked to her gloved right hand—which Kiri had just now noticed was twitching oddly. Instantly, Kiko’s expression had soured. “Aw, now look what you did!” she cried at Yūrei. “You made me break my hand on your thick skull! I just had this fixed a week ago!”

The older teen whirled around at this so rapidly that her bobbed black hair, slick with sweat, whipped into her face. “I’ll call for an ambulance!” she coughed—only to stutter to a halt as Kiko’s outburst sank in. “Wait—fixed?!”

Barely a moment later, her puzzlement had morphed into outright bewilderment—as did Kiri’s own—when Kiko grasped her right forearm, twisted at the wrist … and physically pulled off her hand.

“Hold this,” she said dispassionately to Kiri, offering her the detached limb. The Blue Sea Duelist, still swaying where she stood, took it by the palm as if it were a fragile egg that might shatter if she let it shift even slightly.

Kiko leaned in, unrolling the glove to reveal an antique-looking hand of what looked like polished brass and steel. The fingers were spindly, almost skeletal in their design, and had twisting patterns embossed in the metal.

Reason returned to Kiri then. “A prosthetic?” she heard herself say from far away as she stared at the gloved stump where the arm in her hands had once been.

“Yeah.” Kiko did not even look up at her as she peered inside her arm’s socket. “I was born without my right hand. No bad car wreck or anything like that—it just … never formed. Kaede and I have been friends since before we started school. We hang out at my mom and dad’s toy store after class a lot. So of course she knows all about it.”

Kiri tore her gaze away for a split second—just long enough to see Kaede still sitting where she was, apparently unruffled by everything that had happened over the past couple of minutes—and then she was back to staring at Kiko. Or, at least, Kiko’s whole left hand, its fingers darting here and there with incredible speed and precision.

“You didn’t think to tell me anything about this on the walk over?” Her dazed voice sounded as though she was hearing it from far away. “You had all this time to do that!”

Kiko shrugged with her right shoulder, still focused on her false hand. “Dueling underwater sounds a lot more interesting to me than Dueling with only one hand. I didn’t want to hog the spotlight when I’d only just met you.”

The newcomer, meanwhile, seemed to have forgotten her anger at Yūrei completely. Her head tilted quizzically as she inspected the false hand. “You … you can Duel with this?” she asked.

“You bet I can!” Kiko beamed. “I had to learn the game one-handed at first, though. And I didn’t have my own Duel Disk until last year, either. There aren’t enough left-handers in the world for their designs to be in demand. Oh—there we go!” The fingers of her detached hand had suddenly twitched, at which point Kiko inserted the stump of her right arm inside the socket. A few moments later, the fingers began to open, close, and smoothly flex.

“That’s better,” she smiled. “Anyway, I told you before that Lily’s Duel School isn’t all the way a Duel School, Kiri—that mostly we help disabled kids learn to play Duel Monsters. They have this ‘buddy system’ thing, see. When you enroll, you get paired up with somebody about your age that needs long-term care, like someone who can’t go to school because they’re sick and in the hospital. Or they’re stuck in a wheelchair because of a bad injury they got when they were younger. And then you take some time out of your day to keep them company. Maybe you catch a movie or cook something for them. It’s not always about teaching them out to play the game.”

Kiri nodded thoughtfully. So did the woman they’d just met. “What about”—the latter chewed her tongue for a long moment, trying to find the right words—“developmental conditions? Does your school take that into account?”

Kiko needed a long moment to think about that. “ … I’m not the person you want to ask that question. A lot of this stuff gets left to more qualified people—parents and teachers, doctors and caregivers. But we do have some kids like that, both as students and as buddies. I mean, my buddy’s nonverbal and bedridden—she’s about Kaede’s age, loves animals. I helped her pass the entrance exam to Lily’s just a few weeks ago. She’s been doing the online courses until she’s well enough to move about on her own.”

The newcomer’s expression softened, and a smile briefly twitched on her lips before her confusion returned. “That’s certainly nice and all—but what does all that have to do with your arm?”

“Every month or so, Lily’s does an in-school tournament for anyone who wants to try Dueling in an Action Field,” Kiko explained. “Then, whoever wins them gets specialized equipment for whatever condition they might have. I won one of those tournaments a couple months after I enrolled there, and they helped my parents get both my arm and my Duel Disk custom-ordered for me. Look!”

She produced a Duel Disk from her purse: a vivid, fire-engine red, with its slots for the Main and Extra Decks switched around to accommodate her dominant left hand. Kiko hovered it over her freshly repaired arm for just a moment—and then the Duel Disk jumped right onto the prosthetic as if yanked there by an invisible hook.

“Yep—contained-field magnetics,” she said, as if reading Kiri’s thoughts. “Helps keep it in place during an Action Duel.” She demonstrated this by activating the device, causing a bright green blade to shimmer along her forearm, and then waggling it in several directions. The Blue Sea Duelist was impressed—the Duel Disk didn’t even shift.

“Handy.” Kiri immediately cringed when the double meaning of what she’d said caught up with her—but Kaede had beaten her to it; the little girl was giggling madly at her unintentional pun.

“Even so, I’d think a prosthetic wouldn’t look so … antiquated,” the older teen was musing in the meantime. There was something off about her accent that Kiri couldn’t quite place. “I’m not trying to sound insulting, by the way—I’m just wondering why you chose this design in the first place.”

“I said my parents own a toy store,” said Kiko. “So on top of pretty much living and breathing the things since the day I was born, I’ve been fixing them for half my life, too. My favorites are always those older antique ones—toys that you’d need something like this for, just to turn them on, make them work.”

She pulled out a necklace from beneath her blouse; Kiri thought the trinket dangling beneath looked like an old wind-up key. “I like to tinker sometimes,” Kiko told them, “to see what makes those old toys tick. So when Lily’s 3D-printed this, I told them to use an antique design with some fiddly-bits here and there, so I wouldn’t get bored.”

“So … Yūrei didn’t really break your hand?” Kiri wanted to know.

“Nah. I just shifted a wire when I flailed into him. If he actually had broken this thing, he’d be needing a new hand of his own—and since he’s not a Lily’s student, he’d be paying for both my hand and his as well,” Kiko added with a warning glare at the embarrassed boy. “And good luck winning enough tournaments to pay for them both.”

“Ugh … no wonder I feel like I got hit by a truck.” Yūrei rubbed gingerly at the swollen mass that now dominated his right cheek. “Look … I’m sorry. I only wanted a laugh—I didn’t want to hurt you or anything. I … actually think it’s cool that you have that hand.”

“Yeah? Keep talking and I might just make sure you need that hand now,” Kiko said testily, making Yūrei grab his wrist reflexively. “I’m Kiko, by the way—Maki Kiko,” she said to the newcomer. “That’s Okashi Kaede from the Cuisine Duel School”—she pointed out Kaede, who waved back—“and that’s Minakami Kiri from Blue Sea.”

Kiri extended a hand to the teenager, who shook it warmly. “Good to meet you, Miss, um … ”

“Jong—Jong Bo-Yeon,” was the reply. “Youth Division—Leo Duel School, Busan branch.”

This earned several reactions: Kaede was oohing; Kiko and Yūrei were equally slack-jawed—and Kiri felt several puzzle pieces in her brain clip into place: namely, the distinctive LDS pin on the young woman’s shirt collar that she had just now noticed, and above that, the jawline and high cheekbones framed by her curtains of ebony hair.

“Busan … ” She had to think back to her middle school’s geography classes before it clicked. “You’re Korean?”

The girl called Jong nodded. “This is my last year with the exchange program,” she said. “I’m the oldest student in it—so everyone usually calls me Miss Jong to make me feel even older,” she added, rolling her eyes and giving off a pleasant-sounding laugh. “Six months from now, I’ll be of age. After that is graduation—and then it’s off to Seoul for my bio/geo major, and hopefully somewhere in Vancouver for grad school after that. I might even try to eke out a semi-pro career along the way.”

Kiri felt a sudden respect for Jong—here, it seemed, was a woman who knew what they wanted to do in their life, even as being part of the most famous Duel School in the country had saddled her with enough commitments as it was. “What’s all the way in Canada for you, though?” she wanted to know.

“Fossils. ” Jong grinned. “I’m a history buff—I’ve been one since I was a kid. Somewhere along the way, I got tired of studying human history and moved on to natural history. Modern humans have only existed for a few hundred thousand years or so—compared to the millions and millions of years that the dinosaurs and the trilobites were around, that’s a blink of an eye. There’s a lot more of the subject to study than school gives it credit for.”

“Wow,” said Kiko. “What drew you to history in the first place?”

Jong’s smile became softer, more wistful. “I like old things. Antiques, artifacts—fossils, like I said; museums … I like thinking about all the stories they can tell you. It’s like stepping into somebody’s living room for the first time, and looking at all the little knickknacks they have inside. You start wondering how long they’ve owned them—how much of that person’s life is tied up in this one small, insignificant treasure that wound up in their house.”

“Sweet!” Kaede had finished polishing her shoes, and now bounced over to Jong with a toothy grin on her face. “I guess you got lotsa stories to tell us, huh?”

Jong’s smile vanished as suddenly as the light of a blown-out bulb. “I’m seventeen, not seventy,” she said flatly at the still-grinning Kaede.

“My grandma’s seventy,” Kaede replied back, “and she runs her own bakery!”

“Here we go … ” Kiri heard Yūrei say. Kiko was seen to roll her own eyes, too; Kaede had all but told her entire life story to the Blue Sea Duelist on the way to the park—and nearly without stopping for breath. Kiri was willing to believe that the little girl thought her grandma’s life was also a story worth telling to anyone who would listen.

“She taught me how to make these just last week!” The Cuisine Duelist had now produced a plastic baggie from somewhere Kiri couldn’t see, and brandished it at Jong. Inside were a few puzzle piece-like treats, and a few crumbs left over from those that the three girls had eaten on the way over. “It’s her very own recipe—want one?”

Jong frowned. Yūrei sidled up to her. “I’d take it if I were you,” he said, quietly enough that the Korean wouldn’t jump ten feet in the air like Kiri and Kiko nearly had earlier. “She’ll hold it against you till then.”

Apparently Jong could think of no real answer to this, as she shrugged and extended a slim hand. Kaede wasted no time in fishing inside the baggie with her own stubby fingers and plopping a puzzle piece in the other girl’s palm.

Gingerly, the Korean nibbled at this—and within moments her almond eyes were wide. “Neomu dal-a!” she said incredulously. “How much sugar did you put in this?!”

Kaede was still grinning. “I have no idea!”

Kiri merely nodded to herself—that had been her reaction as well. Nor was she sure that she wanted to know how much sugar a hyperactive ten-year-old was willing to put into the first thing she’d cooked with her own two hands.

“I heard her say once that her grandma only has one tooth,” Yūrei piped up, “and that it’s her sweet tooth.” This earned a look of renewed concern from Jong at the pastry in her fingers, but she managed to finish it a few moments later. “Yashiki Yūrei,” he introduced himself. “Sorry if we, um … got off on the wrong foot. Yū’s been … well, he’s trying to help me break the habit.”

“It’s all right,” Jong said, though she was still eyeing the Wight Duelist’s strange appearance with a concerned eye. “So—Sakuragi’s teaching you how to Duel?”

“Well—to Duel better,” Yūrei replied. “He’s a good teacher—he helped me plan a new combo yesterday that I’m hoping to use for my Dueling exam next week. But I still haven’t figured out a way to beat his Deck—neither has Kaede, actually,” he added, watching the little girl wolfing down another puzzle piece from her baggie. “I think Yū’s probably the best Duelist in Maiami City who isn’t part of the Lancers—the way he plays the game is just so much different from how the two of us do it. He’s just … cool.”

“Have you seen him around yet?” Jong asked—ever since she’d arrived, she hadn’t seen the any sign of the boy’s telltale lavender bangs. “If he called us here in the first place, I’d think he’d have showed up first.”

Yūrei frowned. “What I want to know is where’s the guy I found? I made a bet with Kaede that I’d find more Duelists to meet us than she could,” he explained, “and she’s met three.” He cast a crestfallen look at the little girl.

“Two, actually,” said Jong, shaking her head. “I’d never seen her before in my life until literally just now. But I did come with another person, though. He should be—” She broke off, looking around the spot where they had all clumped together. Kiri thought she saw a look of annoyance creasing the Korean’s mouth.

“Ugh—geuneun-i ttaemada suhaeng,” Jong muttered, massaging her temples before turning around. “Roşu, stop skulking around and come on out! They’re just kids—I promise, they’re not going to hurt you!”

Beside her, Kiri saw Yūrei freeze where he stood. His gaze was traveling from her to Kiko to Kaede and back again, with what the Blue Sea Duelist belatedly realized was a mixed expression of excitement and sudden unease. Seconds later, Kiri’s attention was distracted again by something moving behind the tree across from their bench.

Then that something stepped out in full—and Kiri felt her entire body swaying where she stood in absolute shock.

The boy was Caucasian, and definitely older than she was—possibly Jong’s age—but that didn’t seem to concern her at the moment. He was incredibly attractive—breathtakingly, even, Kiri thought with a swallow. Everything about him, from his tall, rail-thin build, and the pale hands jammed inside the pockets of his spotless black pants, to the narrow eyes and neatly combed hair that looked blacker still, made her wonder if this boy … this man … had stepped right out of Aoi’s favorite shōjo manga before stepping out from behind that tree.

Who is this guy—and where has he been all my life?!

Kiko and Kaede, in the corner of her eye, looked equally thunderstruck. The elder of the pair was beet-red in the face, fanning herself with her hand. Kaede was heard to murmur, “He looks like Tuxedo Mask … but taller … ”

Then the boy’s eyes had flicked upwards to stare back at them—and the Blue Sea Duelist later thought that it was almost as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside his brain. Immediately, he had turned on the heels of his polished black shoes and started walking down the path—away from them—without uttering a single word.

He’d walked about fifteen feet by the time Kiri became fully aware of her own thoughts just now. But her sudden embarrassment, thankfully, went unnoticed; Jong had rolled her eyes—as had Yūrei, much to her surprise—and the Korean had hurried after him.

“Roşu, wait—!” But before Jong could finish, the boy—Roşu—had spun around. His eyes burned with extreme discomfort, if not outright anger—which surprised Kiri even more.

“Refuz să fiu în aceeaşi cameră ca şi acei idioţi,” he growled in a language she didn’t know. But the way he was gesturing at her—and Kiko and Kaede as well—made Kiri suspect that whatever he was saying wasn’t good. Both girls seemed to realize this, too; they looked just as embarrassed as she had felt just now.

“You watch your language,” Jong said sternly. “They don’t know any better—”

“They should,” Roşu snapped. “Did not come here to be feast for eyes.” He muttered something else under his breath that Kiri couldn’t make out, regardless of what language it might have been.

Jong, however, was much closer—and whatever Roşu had said was plainly the wrong thing she wanted to hear.

“Vlad!”

The single word cracked like a whip in the air. A stunned Kiri felt as if that whip had just cracked right next to her ear. It had the desired effect, though; Roşu was suddenly giving the Korean his full attention.

A slim finger stabbed the air. “Ulineun iyagi hal geos-ida,” declared Jong—and without further ado, she went to the tree under which Roşu had first emerged, dragging him behind her. Before long, they were having a whispered conversation that Kiri couldn’t hear—but clearly a heated one on Jong's part, judging by how animated her arms had rapidly become.

A very awkward silence had descended upon the path by the time Kaede voiced the question they were all thinking. “ … What just happened?”

“What the heck was his problem?” Kiko ventured. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Vladislav Roşu.” Yūrei had stepped beside them. His face looked unusually dour—and Kiri somehow thought that the strain on his face of trying to pronounce such a strange name had little to do with it. “He’s from LDS, too, if you didn’t see the pin on his shirt—Bucharest branch.”

Kiri hadn’t. She recognized the word ‘Bucharest’, though—Romania, her geography classes answered again from the depths of her memories. So he’s another exchange student.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Yūrei was saying, “call him by his last name. He doesn’t like it when people say his first name here. Everybody always gets it wrong—and he doesn’t have the patience to correct them.”

Kiko was staring at the Wight Duelist as though she’d just met him all over again. “Wait—you know that guy?!”

Yūrei nodded. “He’s the guy I wanted to bring with me today for this meeting with Yū. I met him at a tournament last year—a weekly thing at a small-time card shop near where I live. He’d just arrived in Japan back then—he and this Miss Jong must know each other from that exchange program she talked about.” He frowned. “I remember Roşu told me I was the first person in this country he’d ever met who liked him—and his Deck—for more than what they looked like. We’ve been … sorta-kinda friends ever since.”

The way he wiggled his wrist at this made Kiri think even Yūrei wasn’t sure what this Romanian Duelist thought of him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kaede chirped. “How can you be ‘sorta-kinda’ friends with somebody?”

Yūrei let fly with a long sigh. Kiri had the impression he was doing some deep thinking. It looked like hard work.

“Roşu … doesn’t like to be around people,” he finally replied. “He likes his own company more than anyone else’s. It isn’t just ‘cause he’s not from around here—it’s not even just because even being close to other people is mentally exhausting for him. It’s because of what those people always end up thinking when they first meet him.”

He narrowed his gray eyes at the trio. “You’re not the first girls I’ve seen go head-over-heels for him; I saw him shoo off a teenager earlier this morning who wanted him to sign her Duel Disk. I was about to scare her off myself because I knew how much she was annoying him.”

Kiri felt a fresh wave of humiliation flush her cheeks again. “But … have you seen him, though?” Kiko spluttered. “Why wouldn’t a girl get a crush on him? Look at the way he dresses—even my dad doesn’t have a suit like that!”

“Oh, Roşu knows he’s good-looking,” said Yūrei. “But girls and whatever crushes they have on him have nothing to do with it. He doesn’t dress up to get their attention—or even because he wants to look good.” A pause. “He dresses up because some part of him thinks he needs to. I think it’s OCD or something.”

Now that he mentioned it, Kiri had noticed how neatly the boy was dressed, even in this warm weather. Even in the romantic dates described by the dog-eared light novels on her bedroom bookshelf, there was always some element of relaxation—of comfort—with how both the boyfriend and girlfriend dressed and behaved themselves.

None of that had been seen within Roşu when they’d first met him. He hadn’t felt relaxed—he hadn’t even felt comfortable. No wonder he stormed off like that! Kiri now realized.

The Blue Sea Duelist now felt the cold sweat of mortified shame trickling down her neck as Yūrei went on, “ … So if you really want to be his friend, then you’ll have to accept that about him. Otherwise he won’t even give you the time of day—like you saw just now.”

Kiri swallowed—but by then, Jong and Roşu were already heading out from the tree and back towards them.

Now that she had a good look at him, Kiri noticed that the boy’s body language looked very closed off indeed—his lips were pursed, and his hands were jammed even further into his pockets—but at least he was looking them in the eye this time, and therefore, perhaps, that he knew how bad they all felt at their first impression going so badly awry.

A glint of light on the collar of the Romanian’s blazer caught her eye, and she saw a pin identical to Jong’s perched there. So Yūrei had been right—he too, then, was indeed part of LDS. For some reason, this made Roşu feel even less approachable to Kiri; no doubt he was an élite Duelist if he’d managed to earn that pin—certainly a few levels above where she was now.

At a nudge to his chest from Jong, Roşu began to speak. “Sorry,” he grunted. “Do not like people staring.”

His European accent was thick but rich underneath every word he spoke—focus, Kiri thought hurriedly. “ … We’re sorry for staring in the first place,” she said truthfully. “I’m Kiri—that’s Kiko and Kaede.” She introduced the two girls with a wave of her arm; they waved back at Roşu, but the Romanian gave no sign of returning the gesture.

“Yūrei here told us a little bit about you, Roşu,” Kiko chimed in. The narrow eyes flicked over to the Wight Duelist, who nodded. “It sounds like you two go back a ways. Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? Break the ice with this bunch of oddballs?”

Roşu only shrugged at this, and said nothing. “Don’t take it personally,” Jong hurriedly said. “I’ve known Roşu longer than all of you, and that’s probably why he’s being so chatty right now.”

Chatty?! Kiri privately—and perhaps, she thought, wisely—declined to ask what sort of definition Jong’s surly friend had for ‘quiet’. “He’ll open up when he wants to,” continued Jong. “Just don’t put any pressure on him.”

Kaede offered her baggie of snacks—what few of them were left, anyway. “You hungry?”

Roşu waved a hand in decline. “Had coffee.” The Cuisine Duelist looked put out at the refusal, but retreated her bag back into her purse at a look from Kiko.

“So—Sakuragi,” said the Romanian. “Is meeting us with friend, yes?”

“That’s right.”

Kaede and Yūrei sat bolt upright at the voice in the distance they’d just heard. Kiri followed their gaze, and saw two people heading up the path towards them. She didn’t know either of them, but the nearer of the pair—tall and thin, though not as much as Roşu, and with light purple bangs slightly longer than the Romanian’s black hair—was close enough for her to see some details. Namely, the LDS pin on his white jacket that, having seen it up close twice in one day, was now much easier for her to spot at a distance. This, then, had to be Sakuragi Yū.

The figure at Yū’s side looked about the same age as him and Roşu, but stood between the two boys in height, and was noticeably more muscular. Spikes of black hair—longer and wilder than that of his companion, and tinted with dark green—sprouted from his scalp like the spines of a hedgehog. The face they framed—Kiri gawked at the scar that carved from nose to cheek; what on earth could have done that to his face?! she wondered—was rough and weathered, and yet the strange yellow-green eyes within, sunken in their sockets, bore a flame whose intense heat the Blue Sea Duelist could feel even from where she stood.

Kiri’s first thought was that this boy had seen some really bad stuff in his life—yet was still determined to survive it. Or, more ominously still, to avenge it—no matter what he had to do … or what he had to sacrifice. She swallowed, hoping that said sacrifice wouldn’t end up being her.

“We were behind another tree the whole time,” Yū explained to them, gesturing to his companion. “It was his idea—if you’d gone ten more feet, Roşu, you’d have spotted us behind the next tree on your right.”

He waved to Kaede and Yūrei. “How’s it going, you two?” The two kids waved back.

Kiri frowned. “You were hiding from us?” That seemed an odd thing for a tutor to do. “Why?”

“Kiri, was it?” The voice of Yū’s cohort—the Blue Sea Duelist didn’t feel ready to use the term “friend” just yet—was gravelly and deep for someone of his age and build. It sounded heavy—both emotionally and physically. That impression of being a survivor—an avenger—was starting to sound a lot more certain.

“I wanted to see how you’d get along with each other,” said the boy, “to let you break the ice before you met the two of us. That sense of camaraderie should always be the first thing you look for in any group with a common goal.”

He smiled at them—perhaps in the hope of winning them over with a non-threatening gesture. Unfortunately, Kiri and everyone else had seen the teeth that composed that smile—and the sharp-looking triangles beyond the boy’s lips looked about as far away from non-threatening as the human body could possibly be.

The Blue Sea Duelist privately thought she had seen more charming smiles at the Maiami City aquarium’s shark exhibit. Nor was she alone in her shock and disgust; Kiko and Jong had each taken a step back, visibly—and quite understandably, Kiri thought—unnerved at the sight. Kaede was wide-eyed, and gulped loudly, making a “t-t-t-t-t-t” noise through her teeth, which were now chattering so noisily in spite of the warm weather that the petticoats underneath her gown were vibrating. Roşu’s eyebrows had practically melted into his jet-black bangs with how high they were raised—and Yūrei’s jaw was so slack that it was dangerously close to bouncing off the pavement.

“Cool … ” he could only say, his voice hushed and his eyes wide. He did not seem to notice that half a dozen different people had slowly turned his way with a look of total disbelief. “ … Can I do that with my teeth?”

Kiri felt one of her eyebrows twitching. “Yūrei,” she said flatly, “if you actually do that to your teeth, I will literally drop everything I do at the aquarium and at Blue Sea so that I can study to become a dentist, just so I can make you my first patient. I’m going to call you into my office, strap you in my chair, gas your idiot face to high heaven—and then, I’ll use every last second of our appointment to make sure you regret ever doing such a stupid, stupid thing.”

Yūrei cringed. “You could’ve just said no … ” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Kiko’s already had to fix her arm once today thanks to you, bonehead,” Kiri shot back. “I’m not taking any chances; I’m making sure you get a mental image that’ll stick in anyone’s brain. Even yours.”

“Why on earth would you even do that, anyway?” Jong asked, still eyeing the mouth of filed teeth as though it was inches away from her own neck. “Tattooing your face is one thing, but this is another! What was it that made you decide to do this to your own teeth?”

The boy was still smiling, but he closed his lips enough to hide those fangs of his. “You didn’t tell them?”

Yū shook his head. “I didn’t even know half these people’s names until just now,” he replied.

The boy smirked. “Well … it’s to let those Fusion fanatics know that my old home still has some bite in it yet.”

He demonstrated this by making a loud chomping noise in front of them all, drawing back his lips in a snarl to show every bit of the pointed teeth within. Kaede was so wide-eyed at the intimidating display that she didn’t even laugh at the play on words.

Kiri, however, wasn’t even paying attention to that. “Your … old home?”

The boy nodded. “Sakuragi told me his Duel School turned it into an Action Field—Future Metropolis Heartland.”

It was as though all the air around them had suddenly vanished. The last word had felt like a gut punch to everyone present, save for Yū—even Roşu looked shocked at hearing the familiar name.

Kiri hadn’t lasted very long in the Maiami Championship: her Duel in the first round had been against a ninja-like Duelist who called himself Hikage. He’d been nothing but a scarlet blur en route to a one-turn kill that knocked her out of the competition. But she’d stayed for the remainder of the tournament—including the Duel where she’d seen that Action Field played for the first and last time in the event. The destructive battle had left her in such bad shock that she’d had to sit out her shows at the aquarium for the next week. And even then, compared to some people—she chanced a look at Kiko, who’d told Kiri more about her buddy on the way over—she had been fortunate.

“Heartland … ” Kiko murmured in a daze. “You’re saying that’s a real place—a real city?!”

“It was a real place.” The smile was gone from the boy’s mouth. “The same people that attacked your city during that Championship of yours … they also destroyed mine. Whatever carnage you saw during the Duel in that Heartland Field was nothing compared to what they did to the real thing. There’s nothing left of it now but ruins and shadows … and the few of us who banded together to fight against the Dueling soldiers of Academia.”

Jong was biting her lip. Kaede and Yūrei were equally bug-eyed and open-mouthed.

All eyes were now on the boy. “My name is Kurokōri,” he introduced himself. “I’m an Xyz Duelist, like all of you—and that’s why I asked Yū to hold this meeting. When Academia invaded Heartland, I joined their resistance to fight back, and take back our homeland for ourselves. Now I’ve come to your homeland, to see if the seven of you have what it takes … to join them, too.”

Chapter Text

VI

It took a few moments for what Kurōkori had said to sink in. For some, those moments felt longer than others; Yū, having listened to the Xyz Duelist’s sordid tale of loss and revenge already, did not feel the slow passage of time that came with the dawning comprehension of something so outlandish, that the notion of any part of that tale being true felt like a rejection of the world they’d long since accepted as real.

It was Kiri who finally broke the silence. “Join … your Resistance?”

“That’s right,” said Kurokōri. He proceeded to tell them the same story he’d told Yū last night, compressing his explanation of the four different Dimensions, the Academia that ruled the Fusion Dimension with an iron fist, and the Heartland City in the Xyz Dimension that had felt the decisive crush of that iron fist, down into a matter of minutes. All six kids, Yū noted, had approximately the same look of shock on their own face as the LDS Duelist had had the night before, when hearing this story himself.

“Some of you and your abilities I already know about. Once or twice I’ve even had the pleasure of watching them.” Kurokōri’s eyes swept over Kaede and Yūrei, who were seen to trade glances—perhaps wondering if they might just be those people he’d watched. “As for the rest of you … I can see a look in your eyes that I’ve seen on many people I’ve fought alongside in the past. Maybe you haven’t felt the sting of war firsthand, like I have, but you’ve seen enough of Academia’s attempted invasion of your own dimension that the thought of being invaded at all sickens you to your core—that you’d want to do everything you could to protect your home from being destroyed.”

“It isn’t just that,” said Yūrei. “When I watched that Duel at the Maiami Championship—with Shiun’in Sora and Kurosaki Shun—I saw how destructive their Duel was. Duel Monsters is supposed to be a game—people are supposed to have fun when they play it. Maybe they have fun for different reasons, but … ” He stopped, chewing his tongue as if unsure what to say next. “That wasn’t a fun Duel,” was his eventual choice of words. “I didn’t feel like I was watching a game anymore. And I’m not sure if I can blame Kurosaki or Sora more for that.”

“Hm.” Kurokōri pursed his lips. “Well, I know Kurosaki better than any of you—certainly better than I do Sora. And that does sound a lot like him. He’s one of the best fighters in our Resistance—but any sense of fun he had while Dueling got burned out of him a long time ago. Academia captured his little sister, you see,” he added, to horrified looks. “None of us know why, and none of us have been keen to find out. But he’ll do anything to get her out of their clutches. Even if it involves posing as one of your classmates,” he said, with a sidelong look at Yū.

“What’s this got to do with us?” Kiko asked.

“Like I said, I can see the same look in your eyes as a lot of my Resistance,” said the Xyz Duelist. “Now, for the longest time, we’ve been on the defensive. For some time, the order for the day has been less ‘defend our people and take back what was stolen from them’ than it has ‘defend our people and make sure they have enough to eat and drink every day’. It’s a noble goal, don’t get me wrong; nevertheless, there are times when we wish we had enough manpower to actually take the offensive and mount a retaliatory strike against Academia. I think, with all of you by my side, that the eight of us can do just that.”

Jong gaped. “You’re seriously suggesting we go up against a literal army of Duelists that turn anyone who loses against them into cards they take as trophies?!” she spluttered. “What makes you think we can do any of that?! We’re not soldiers—we’re not even vigilantes! Some of us aren’t even old enough to know what that word means!”

Kaede and Yūrei both looked like they were about to indignantly say that yes, they did indeed know what the word meant—but Yū, sensibly, headed off the imminent argument that would have launched by holding up his hands.

“When I first met him,” he explained to Jong, “that question did cross my mind. But right now, Kurokōri just wants to see what we’ve brought to the table. So we’re going to be doing a few Duels today—and that way he can decide for himself if we’re the Duelists he’s looking for. That’s why I asked us all to meet in the park, so we could have a nice, wide-open space to do all that and more.”

“Are we gonna be Dueling him?” Kaede’s stubby hand flew to the clasp of her purse, and the Duel Disk inside.

“Kaede, don’t be ridiculous,” Kiri scoffed. “He’s one of the Resistance, just like Kurosaki. I was at the Maiami Championship myself—I’ve seen what that guy can do. Those Raid Raptors of his could take down a whole battalion of Academia’s soldiers if they had the chance. Who’s to say he couldn’t do the same thing with us?”

To her surprise, Kurokōri chuckled at this. “You’re giving me a little too much credit, comparing me to Kurosaki. You’re right, though. I’d wager you could get out your Duel Disks right now, challenge me to a Battle Royale Duel, and the only thing you’d learn is a firsthand lesson in why fools don’t rush in. But that’s not the point. I didn’t cross the dimensions to wipe the floor with any Duelist who looked at me the wrong way.”

Jong was eyeing Yū in a strange way, now. “Are we Dueling him, then?” she asked, pointing to the LDS Duelist a little warily. “Because this guy was the top-ranked Junior Youth at last year’s Maiami Championship.”

“That would explain why he beat me in a Duel last night,” Kurokōri admitted, smirking slightly at the collective double take Jong had led the children in doing at his reply. “I’ve learned what I need to from Yū here—he’s tested himself against me, and I like what I saw from him. That’s why I asked him to help me in putting this together. So since most of this is his idea, I’ll let him explain what we’re going to do here.”

He nodded to Yū, and the LDS student began to speak. He halted in his speech here and there, nervous as he was at the prospect of sudden public speaking, but a quick breath ensured that he didn’t completely stutter over his words.

“The first thing I did with Kaede and Yūrei when I first started tutoring them,” he said, “was to have them Duel each other. They’d seen me Duel before at the previous Championship, after all, and so I assumed they’d come up with ways to fight against my Deck before I’d even known their names.”

Jong was eyeing the two youngest Duelists of the group, her eyebrow raised apprehensively. “They’re kids.”

“And kids are a lot smarter than they tend to let on,” Yū said coolly. “You should know that well enough yourself, Miss History Buff. Anyway,” he continued before the Korean could look properly abashed at his retort, “I told them to Duel each other instead to start off our first lesson. I decided that whatever strategy they had in mind to beat my Deck could wait until they’d applied it against a Duelist neither of them knew anything about.”

“We all Duel each other.”

Everyone jumped. Vladislav Roşu hadn’t spoken a single word up to this point, and so his grunt was met with as much surprise as it was confusion. He frowned. “That is plan, yes?” he asked from where he sat on the bench, his arms crossed in aloof relaxation—and his eyes fixed unmistakably on Yū.

“Er … yeah, actually,” said the LDS Duelist, recovering quickly from his bewilderment. “Hit it right on the head. We’re going to do a few Duels out here. Kurokōri and I have already had ours, you already know—so the two of us are going to sit back and watch the rest of you Duel each other.”

Kiko was looking left and right at everyone else. Most of the others were doing the same thing, but she alone seemed willing to speak up. “So … we just pick a person to Duel?” she asked hopefully. “Because if we are, I’m Dueling Yūrei.”

There was a splutter. “Wha—are you still mad at me because of what happened to your arm?” the Wight Duelist said indignantly. “I said I was sorry!”

“So did I,” Kiko conceded, “but that’s not the point. Sometimes, saying sorry isn’t enough. But don’t worry,” she smirked. “I’ll consider us even after my Deck kicks you all over the field.”

“We’re just going to leave grudges out of this, thank you,” Yū said, not a little irritably at this point, “and leave who faces whom to chance.”

He reached into his pocket, and fished out three straws that he’d found at a coffee shop along the way. “Hold, please,” he said to Jong, who frowned at this briefly before holding out her hand to take the straws. “Um—both hands. It’ll be easier for me.”

The Korean promptly did so, grasping the straws at arm’s length. Carefully, Yū took out his own Duel Disk, and switched it on with a flick of the wrist. The purple blade sheared through the straws at a diagonal with ease.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the straws back and inspecting them. Each of the half-dozen half-straws was a different length now—exactly as he had intended.

Kiri nodded at this. “Okay, I see what you’re doing,” she said. “Drawing straws to see who fights who, huh?”

“That’s right,” said Yū. He closed his hands around the straws, and shook them for a few moments until all six of the unshorn ends poked out of a gap between his thumbs. “So, everybody pick one—the two shortest straws get to Duel. We’ll do this again until everyone’s had a chance to fight.”

He held them out, going around until every straw had been taken. “Okay—hold them out so I can see.” They did.

“Well, nuts,” Kiko was heard to say a moment after that. “I was hoping to have a little more time to get ready.” The straw she held in her artificial hand was barely as long as her palm was wide.

Yū had only just noticed this before Kaede suddenly burst into a giggling fit. It didn’t take him much longer to find out why; the Cuisine Duelist’s straw, held aloft in her raised hand, was even shorter than Kiko’s—just barely longer than the thumb and forefinger in which it had been tucked.

Everyone else produced their straws. All of them showed enough of their length that Yū knew there was little point in checking. “There we go, then,” he said. “Our first Duel’s going to be Okashi Kaede versus Maki Kiko.”

Kiko did a double take when she saw the shorter straw in Kaede’s hand. “Huh,” she said. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

“Course not!” Kaede was still grinning. “We’re best friends—one Duel’s not gonna change that! C’mon!” And without further ado she bounced away from the group and off the footpath, finally stopping at a clearing some fifty feet away. Kiko, smiling and rolling her eyes at her friend’s enthusiasm, followed her more slowly, peeling off her glove and fixing her red Duel Disk onto the recess of her prosthetic arm once again.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Yū?” Jong asked. “You wanted to leave our opponents to chance because you were hoping to see how we could do in a Duel against someone we didn’t know—how we responded under pressure. But those two girls have been friends for most of their lives—there’s no way they don’t know each other’s Decks inside and out at this point!”

Yū had thought of this. “It’s not just a matter of who they’re going to be Dueling, Miss Jong,” he said with a grin, “but also a matter of where.”

He hefted his Duel Disk, and began tapping at the screen. “Access Action Field database,” he dictated. “Randomize selection, configure for standard 1v1 Duel.” Then, under his breath and almost as an afterthought, “Pick a card—any card,” he added with a smile.

“Working.”

No sooner had the device’s computer delivered a response than images of green-bordered cards began to cycle over its screen, at a rate of a dozen every second. This continued for a few long moments until Yū’s eyes grew blurry from trying to focus on each individual card the Duel Disk displayed—before finally, as abruptly as it had started, a single card out of hundreds now froze on the screen.

“Action Field: Toy Town selected,” announced the computer. “Solid Vision generators online. All non-combatants in the immediate vicinity have been alerted to the Duel in progress.” This was a safety system, Yū knew, put in place so that no one unwittingly wandered into an Action Duel—but more often than not enticed even more people to flock over in groups to watch the unfolding spectacle. Like moths to a lamp.

And sure enough, he saw a number of kids, along with a few of their parents, sprinting over to them in the distance as a ball of that metaphorical lamplight bloomed between Kaede and Kiko. The spectators wouldn’t get too close to the Duel site, he was aware—but neither would they shy away from finding a good vantage point, especially if they’d brought any children. That was what currently worried him—did they want an audience in the first place?

“This isn’t going to mess up your plan, is it?” he asked Kurokōri. “I don’t know how private you wanted this to be.”

But the Xyz Duelist shook his head. “It’ll be all right. It’s enough for them to know there’s a Duel going on,” he said. “They don’t need to know why.”

“All right … if you—!” But the rest of Yū’s reply was lost in the sound of the Solid Vision sphere flaring out with a WHOOM noise in every direction. For one eternal second, his world flared with the whitest white his eyes had ever felt, and he instinctively squished his eyes shut in the blinding light.

When the spots finally faded, and Yū judged it safe to open his eyes again, he did so—and felt his jaw drop.

It was a testament to the human imagination that he, Sakuragi Yū, who had participated in more than a hundred different Action Duels in his time playing Duel Monsters—and inside more than a hundred different Action Fields as well—could still feel this amazed and bewildered each time he saw a new Field take shape before his eyes. He appreciated the technology like that—he could marvel at the intricate detail that Solid Vision gave to even the simplest of environments, and likewise feel like he was right at home regardless of how detached from reality each Field’s surroundings could be.

The surroundings of Toy Town, he now saw, swerved so far towards the latter that Yū felt like he’d caught a case of whiplash: the park of Maiami City had been transformed into what he could only call the playroom of some titanic five-year-old child. Race cars and planes littered the scene, blown up to life-size replicas. Playing cards of all four suits, each the length and width of his bedroom floor, had been stacked into massive triangular structures that looked hundreds, if not thousands of feet high, even at a glance. Stuffed animals the size of small houses, of every species he could imagine and then some, dominated the surroundings with their vast bulk like so many hills. Dolls of many shapes and sizes, the smallest of them still several times taller than any human being, stood here and there as still as any statue—insofar as a statue could wear fashion statements that made Kaede’s most elaborate of dresses look like casual attire.

And yet, Yū knew, this only scratched the surface as to what this Field could offer in the way of description. The longer he looked at it, the more there was for him to see—such was the detail that the artistic minds of Duel Monsters, unbound by such silly things as the laws of physics, could add to their three-dimensional counterparts.

Kaede and Kiko, for their part, both goggled at their imminent battleground with the wide eyes of girls who’d just seen their Christmas come early. He was quick to recall that he’d overheard Kiko talking about growing up around toys, so perhaps that was why her reaction looked slightly—only slightly—more muted than that of Kaede. But the Cuisine Duelist’s baby-blue eyes looked ready to pop out of her skull, and her chin came within inches of bouncing off the soft ground—which Yū had just now noticed looked like those top-down playroom rugs with city streets painted onto the fabric, only blown up to life-size like the rest of this whimsical Field, and making him feel even more as though they’d all been shrunk to a mere inch in height, if that.

Only the other boys of the group—Yūrei, Roşu, and Kurokōri—seemed to have any real objection to their new surroundings. The youngest of them was walking gingerly wherever he went, silently grimacing as though he’d stepped in some unpleasant business on the sidewalk. Roşu stayed where he was, arms crossed as tightly as could be, his eyes the only moving part of him; they flicked left and right, eyeing the dolls as if nervous they’d suddenly come to life. Both of them, however, kept their mouths shut about it all.

Kurokōri, however, did not. “So—‘Toy Town’,” he repeated skeptically, a rough eyebrow raised. “I dunno … I was hoping for something a little more, um … ” He faltered here, chewing his tongue for a long moment. “Mature? Is that the word I should use? Whatever it is, this … isn’t the kind of Field I’d see us fighting Academia on.”

Yū smiled jauntily at the Xyz Duelist. “Most of us are still kids here, Kurokōri,” he chided him, “even if we don’t like admitting it.” He punctuated this with an askew glance at Yūrei and Roşu. “Besides, I’ve been Kaede’s tutor for a long while. I know her Deck almost as well as she does by now—and I know she can use it to make some amazing plays.”

“Whoa … ” By now, Kaede was beginning to drool a little from her mouth, so slack was her jaw. Thankfully, she seemed to be aware of this right before it would have left an embarrassing spot on her dress, and she closed it the next moment with a click of grinning teeth.

The next moment, she’d whirled on her soon-to-be opponent. “C’mon, Kiko!” she squeaked. “I wanna try some of this stuff out first!”

What happened in the moments after that, Yū wasn’t sure. All his eyes registered was that Kaede suddenly moved like a dervish on laughing gas; she pounced on Kiko so quickly and energetically that she’d become a veritable blur of giggling ribbons and petticoats. The Cuisine Duelist took her best friend by her natural left wrist—somehow relieving them both of their shoes in the process—and sped for the nearest stuffed animal in her sight, Kiko in tow.

“Kaede, what—?” But the left-hander’s protest ended in an undignified “yeep!” Kaede had launched herself onto the oversized stuffed dog, still raucously giggling—and in one of those feats of strength only kids seem to be capable of, she scrambled up the surface while still hauling her protesting friend.

“Wait just a—oof—hold on, Kaede, just—burf—let me go-o-o-o-o!”

And Kaede did—but by then, she’d already swung Kiko onto the soft belly of the plush pooch and started leaping around in circles around her struggling friend, laughing endlessly and breathlessly as though she’d just discovered the fun zone at a local fair.

Yū didn’t turn around. He didn’t even move a muscle. But he could feel the gaze of Kurokōri slowly turning to bear on him. He didn’t need the imagination of the artist who designed this Action Field to guess what the boy’s expression looked like. The LDS Duelist could already hear in his mind the many, many questions he was likely to pose to him—each one asking why precisely this impudent little girl was the amazing Duelist he’d just spent ten seconds of his life hyping up to one of the roughest- and toughest-looking people he’d ever met.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Yūrei with his head in his hands. Kiri was gawking, apparently torn between embarrassment and an urge to join the girls. Jong was whispering something into Roşu’s ear. From the faint sneer that lined the Romanian’s lips, and the way his dark eyes had sliced over in Yū’s direction, it seemed that neither of the LDS students had good things to think about him or his pupil from what they’d seen so far.

So he smiled ruefully, rubbed his reddening neck, and spoke with the hope that each syllable saved face with them.

“ … When she puts her mind to it.”

Kurokōri didn’t say a word. Yū, feeling more embarrassed every second, found a part of him wishing he would.

By now, Kiko had managed to pull herself to a standing position. This was no small feat for a girl with an artificial hand—especially since Kaede, still prancing in circles around her on the pillow-like stomach of the puppy beneath them, seemed dead-set on working off the sugar high her grandmother’s snacks had no doubt given her, and was still making her wobble where she stood with the sheer energy she exuded.

“This—place—is—so—much—fun—it’s—the—best—Action—Field—ever!” Kaede’s braided hair was already dangerously close to falling apart. With every word she spoke, the Cuisine Duelist jumped as high as her billowing dress would allow, the toes of her pastel-pink socks coming level with Kiko’s eyebrows every time.

Kiko was only faintly aware of the twitch in those eyebrows before she suddenly lost her temper. “Would you just listen to me and stop—please?!” she yelled.

As if the word “stop” had been some prearranged signal, Kaede’s legs suddenly folded. At the word “please”, she’d hit the soft plush with a plop, her immense dress having ballooned out around her. The little girl now sat up so straightly and attentively that she might have just come from manners classes.

“Thank you.” But Kiko did not let her exasperation abate for long. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Kaede, but this”—she spread her arms wide, gesturing to the immense world of supersized toys around them—“is supposed to be an Action Field! You know—for Duels?! What the heck was this all about?!”

“C’mon,” Kaede wheedled. “Just because we’re Dueling doesn’t mean we have to Duel right now, Kiko! Besides, the doggy looked so big and squishy!” Her eyes became wide and doleful. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this plushie and want to give it the biggest hug ever!”

Kiko was regarding her friend with a very dazed expression indeed—like Kaede had taken a cue from a kid’s show and swung a comically huge mallet into her face. She pinched her brow, and sighed.

“Kaede,” she said slowly and patiently, “you’re awesome to be around. I’ve known that from the first day I saw you walk in my shop. I’m not saying I don’t agree with you—on any other day, I might have even joined you,” she conceded with a snort. “But this is not the time for that! We are trying to make a good impression here!”

She swung an arm—her artificial right hand, she belatedly noticed—at Yū and Kurokōri, far off in the distance. “Think about what Yū’s done to help you be a better Duelist! More than that, think about what his friend told us he’s been through in his life—all those … those bad people he had to fight just to make sure he got here in one piece! Is Kurokōri really going to think you deserve to Duel by his side if you’d rather spend your day playing in—in a bouncy castle instead of helping him fight Academia?!”

It was plain to see that Kaede had not expected to hear these words at all—and less so from her friend; a single tear was swimming in each eye.

“Sorry,” she said, managing to wipe those tears away with a stubby finger. “I thought if he saw me having fun, he’d cheer up a little. Isn’t that what Duels are supposed to do—to make people happy and have fun?”

Kiko sighed again. “They’re supposed to, all right,” she said. “But some hurts don’t go away that easy, Kaede. You can’t just slap a shiny new hand on somebody’s arm and expect them to get to normal like that.” Her metallic fingers made a clicking noise on the last word—the closest they could come to snapping; a suddenly melancholy Kaede was far too late in averting her eyes at the sight. “It takes time to adjust to the new experience. Sometimes, it’s not as much time as we would like—but we have to, all the same.”

She clenched her false hand into a fist; the bright green blade of her Duel Disk now lanced out along her right arm. “You’ve had your time to adjust, Kaede,” said Kiko. “You’ve had your fill of fun for right now. From here on out, you have to show me you want this. You have to be more serious than you’ve ever been in your life.”

Her left hand tensed, millimeters away from the top of her Deck inside her Disk. “Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do against you.”

It was this, perhaps, that told Kaede just what was about to happen. They’d Dueled plenty of times before—but always in fun, when nothing but personal pride was on the line. So Kaede had approached this Duel as she would have any other with her best friend. Yet this, Kiko knew, would be the first time in their friendship that they had ever fought for something bigger than either of their young lives.

It pained her greatly to have to speak so harshly to the little girl, but Kiko was well aware that she was the wiser of the two—and she suspected some part of Kaede agreed with her, too. The Cuisine Duelist loved to play with toys, as any little girl did—but Kiko had grown up around them. She didn’t just play with them, she built and rebuilt them; she knew how they worked and went together, inside and out. As far as she was concerned, that made her the more grounded in reality of the two—and unless Kaede wised up and got serious, that meant Kiko had the edge.

Kaede swallowed, sniffed wetly, then stood up. Wordlessly, she switched on her own Duel Disk, as pale pink as her socks, and listened to the sizzle of the butter-yellow blade that had sliced along her arm. The Cuisine Duelist was eyeing Kiko with a look that spoke more than any words ever could. Perhaps no words could have sufficed.

But as quickly as it came, that look had been blinked away—and then, as if their minds were linked, both girls acted.

They leapt backward off the stuffed dog in tandem, and in opposite directions, soaring into the air far higher than any “bouncy castle” could have sent them. “Let’s go!” they cried in unison. “DUEL!”

While Kiko and Kaede had been talking, Yū had accessed his Duel Disk’s observer mode, allowing him to watch the Duel unfold on the screen, regardless of where on the Action Field both girls might be Dueling. That screen now showed a basic wireframe of every card zone, complete with hand sizes, Life Point counters, and the amount of cards they had left in their Deck and Extra Deck.

As Yū watched the Duel unfold, and Kurokōri watched from alongside him, a single stray thought entered his mind.

Make me proud, Kaede.

The dresses that Kiko and Kaede both wore helped to slow their fall through the air even before the Solid Vision that now permeated it arrested their momentum further still. But Kiko, being older than her friend, was also heavier and taller—and finally, her dress was less of a gown and more of a blouse, allowing her to do a simple somersault in midair. Though Action Fields had the potential to defy such things as air resistance and gravity, this Field was only complex enough to defy description, instead of the laws of physics. This ensured Kiko was first to hit the ground, her five cards already drawn, and zoom across the Field at a full sprint right from the get-go.

“I’m going first!” she declared, passing through a tunnel of wooden building blocks large enough to double up as apartment space. “And I’ll start by playing the Continuous Spell: Wind-Up Manufacture—and Summoning Wind-Up Magician in Attack Position!”

Kaede had wasted no time in going after her friend. But her attention span was diverted the moment she’d entered the tunnel in hot pursuit: the walls and ceiling of the block tunnel were being stripped away bit by bit, replaced by layers upon layers of gears and cranes. From a recess within this machinery dropped a purple-and-white figure, whirring with hidden clockwork: a plastic toy made to look like a wizard, whose pointed hat made it about a head taller than Kiko (Level 4: ATK 600/DEF 1800). A silver staff, topped with gears and a moon, was held high in its grasping claws, and a golden key sprouted from its back like a set of gleaming wings.

“Now I’ll activate my Wind-Up Shark’s effect!” Kiko cried, placing another card on her blade. “When a Wind-Up monster is Summoned to my field, I can Special Summon it from my hand!” Another recess, churning with machinery, opened up beneath her as she exited the tunnel, disgorging a streamlined, blue-and-silver construct that nearly sent the little girl skidding to a halt—both from how closely the fish-like toy had appeared directly in front of her, and from how it had whirled upon the Cuisine Duelist and displayed the oversized fangs in its whirring mouth (Level 4: ATK 1500/DEF 1300).

“Wind-Up Shark’s second effect!” As Kiko looked on, the golden key stuck within Shark’s dorsal fin began to rotate with a rapid clicking noise. “Once per turn, I can increase or decrease its Level by 1 until the End Phase—so I’ll make my little fishy a Level 3! And because I activated a Wind-Up monster’s effect,” she added, smirking, “that triggers my Manufacture’s effect, and lets me add a Level 4 or lower Wind-Up monster from my Deck to my hand!”

She balled her false hand into a fist; moments later, a single card shot out an inch from her Deck, and was swiped up with little preamble. “And then, since another Wind-Up monster’s effect was activated, that activates my own Wind-Up Magician’s effect! Once—and only once—while it’s on the field, I can Special Summon a Level 4 or lower Wind-Up monster from my Deck in Defense Position! I Special Summon Wind-Up Hunter!”

As she left the block tunnel, Magician’s own golden key began to turn in its socket, and it raised its staff high, twirling it until it was naught but a blur. Sparks raced across the hissing gears that topped it, which themselves hissed into a portal glinting with light. Then—right as something leaped from that portal—the key was blasted out of Magician’s back like a bullet from a gun, and it slumped slightly where it stood, apparently unable to move.

But moments later, whatever the toy wizard had conjured had landed on the supersized carpet-ground with a soft thump. It reared up to its full, man-sized height on four jointed, olive-green hooves, brandishing a crossbow directly at Kaede with one hand, and sweeping aside a tattered cape with the other (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 500).

Kiko was pleased to see that the Cuisine Duelist was paling at the sight of the toy centaur she’d just Summoned: it meant she was beginning to grasp how serious this Duel was about to get. She said as much to Kaede—“and that’s exactly,” she crowed, “why I’m going to use my Hunter and my Shark to construct the Overlay Network!”

She slammed her real hand on the carpet beneath her feet. As if some immeasurable magic resided at her fingertips, a galaxy of color bloomed between the two girls, sucking in her two toys and turning them into blobs of purple and blue energy:

“Vibrant servant of the golden key, sail forth into battle!”

“Xyz Summon!” chanted Kiko. “Activate! Rank 3! Wind-Up Carrier Zenmaity!”

The enormous city that the carpet depicted must have shown a seaport of some kind nearby, because an enormous SPLASH had boomed out from directly behind Kiko. Then, something had hurtled from the air like a fired torpedo, coming to a halt ahead and to her right: a colossal, multicolored toy that would have taken up half the space in her bedroom. Twin red keels, linked at the prow by a streamlined blue-and-white torso, hovered inches above the ground, each one supporting a hangar at the rear that opened into an inclined runway. No less than five keys clicked and turned in its body, and golden gears whirred all over the vessel in a mechanized imitation of a call to general quarters (Rank 3: ATK 1500/DEF 1500, ORU 2).

Kaede had taken one look at the monster and—despite its less-then-intimidating appearance—immediately backed away. Kiko had noticed. “You know what’s coming next, then,” she said to the Cuisine Duelist. “Playtime is over—now, I get to show everyone here why I’m the cream of the crop over at Lily’s!”

At least for now, she added in her head, thinking of Karen. “Wind-Up Zenmaity’s effect!” Kiko yelled. “Once per turn, by detaching an Overlay Unit”—something small and purple streaked out from the vessel’s left hangar and down the tarmac, taking flight barely a split second after it had appeared—“I can Special Summon a Wind-Up monster from my hand or my Deck! I Special Summon Wind-Up Rat from my Deck in Attack Position!”

The violet missile hit the ground, changing color and solidifying into a blue-white plastic mouse barely level with Kiko’s knee (Level 3: ATK 600/DEF 600), even though it balanced upright on the wheels that served as its hind legs. “And because I Summoned my Rat in Attack Position,” Kiko went on, “I can activate its effect: once, and only once, while it’s on the field, I can switch it to Defense Position, then target another Wind-Up in my Graveyard and revive it in Defense Position as well!” She held her hand high. “And I’m going to revive the same monster I detached from my Zenmaity just now—Wind-Up Hunter!”

Rat scurried in a circle, the key on its back revolving inside its socket like a golden ballerina. Then—just as with Magician—some hidden force spat it into the air at almost the same time as the familiar form of Kiko’s plastic centaur emerged from thin air, landing soundlessly on the carpeted road (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 500).

“Now for my Hunter’s effect!” A sinister grin was spreading over Kiko’s face. “Once and only once, while it’s on the field, I can Release another Wind-Up monster, and send a random card from my opponent’s hand to the Graveyard! I’ll Release my Carrier Zenmaity!”

Hunter nocked a bolt on its golden crossbow, pointing it right at Kaede. There was a click, and a flicker of golden light—and moments later, the Cuisine Duelist leapt back, shaking the hand that clutched her cards as if a wasp had just stung her on the finger. A single card fluttered silently to the ground; this Kaede slid into her Duel Disk with an expression of utmost despondency.

Kiko felt the pain in her heart for only a moment—she hated having to do this to her friend—but today, for the first time outside of an actual tournament, she was in her groove, and fighting for something to prove. Because: “You might’ve noticed I have two more Level 3 monsters on my field now. And you know what that means!” she winked at Kaede. “I’m going to use my Hunter and my Rat to construct the Overlay Network again!”

As the two monsters in question disintegrated into formless masses of glittering purple and orange, another great SPLASH was heard from the harbor behind her. She could practically hear the prows of the twin ship emerging from the surface of the carpet, even before the whirling galaxy of stars had faded from view in front of her:

“Xyz Summon!” she screamed. “Activate! Rank 3! Wind-Up Carrier Zenmaity!”

Sakuragi Yū was watching the Duel off to the side, a hand to his mouth. The moment he’d heard Kiko was Xyz Summoning a second Zenmaity, he had the notion that Kaede was about to suffer a most humiliating loss indeed.

As the toy ship alighted on Kiko’s left (Rank 3: ATK 1500/DEF 1500, ORU 2), events began to replay in his head. The first Zenmaity had been Summoned with a Wind-Up Hunter—which was then promptly revived by a Wind-Up Rat that she’d plucked from her Deck. Then, Kiko had used Hunter’s effect to blast a card right out of Kaede’s hand before she’d even had the chance to play it. And now she’s Summoned a second one …

Yū had been paying close attention to when Kiko’s monsters triggered their effects. Typically, there were limits to how often Duel Monsters could do this; mostly they could only do so once per turn. But the effects were often structured such that only a single copy of those monsters could activate that effect during any given turn, if more than one was on the field; this prevented such effects being used with reckless abandon.

The Main Deck monsters he’d been seeing from Kiko had the drawback of only being able to trigger once while they were face-up on the field. And that was the kicker—while they were face-up on the field. If they left the field, only to be Special Summoned later on, it gave them another chance to use those effects—and because there was no part of their effects that restricted Kiko from applying them once per turn, she could employ such a strategy as many times as her immediate resources would allow. Alongside her Zenmaity, whose effect had been structured such that it could trigger once for every copy on the field, this allowed her to greatly extend the longevity of her strategies.

And Hunter’s already devastating effect meant that … He watched as Kiko proceeded to detach Hunter from her second Zenmaity, bring out a second Rat (Level 3: ATK 600/DEF 600), switch it to Defense Position, bring back Hunter (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 500), then Release that Zenmaity so that the centaur could fire another bolt at Kaede’s hand. It did so, and Kaede slipped another card into her Graveyard with an increasingly sullen expression.

And then Kiko threw out her hand, and repeated the process again.

She didn’t even bother chanting this time; her third and final Zenmaity (Rank 3: ATK 1500/DEF 1500; ORU 2) had emerged almost before Hunter and Rat had disappeared into the miniature galaxy that had formed at her feet. Kiko detached an Overlay Unit almost as quickly; no doubt her Hunter, Yū thought—a notion that was immediately vindicated when yet another Rat whirred onto the field (Level 3: ATK 600/DEF 600), and scurried round and round until the familiar form of the centaur (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 500) had emerged in front of Zenmaity.

One golden bolt later, and Kaede danced in place as though she’d just been stung on her hand again, dropping a third card from her hand. Yū was resisting the urge to cringe by now; the strategy he had just seen was one of the most disgusting he’d ever seen in his career. That it had come from a girl barely older than one of his own pupils felt all the more insulting, regardless of whether the two opponents were good friends.

No wonder Kaede thinks she’s good, Yū mused. Kiko had taken out over half of Kaede’s opening hand before she’d even had a chance to play a single card. And a single button had allowed him to see on his Duel Disk exactly which cards Hunter had forced Kaede to send. What he saw was disheartening: Madolche Puddincess, Madolche Château, and Madolche Promenade all sat uselessly in her Graveyard; they might as well be light-years out of her reach.

An almost perfect opening hand, he thought. Gone before she could even use it.

He bit his lip. This was not good at all.

Chapter Text

VII

Kiko was dizzy with adrenaline. It was a shame she didn’t have any more Zenmaitys or Rats to bring out, she thought with a sigh. I’ve always wanted to see how long I could keep that combo going. Three cards sent from the hand to the Graveyard was a personal best—and she still wasn’t done with her turn.

“I still have two monsters with the same Level on my field,” she grinned, gesturing at Hunter and Rat, “and even though I can’t Summon any more of those monsters, I’ll use them to construct the Overlay Network once more—and bring out something even tougher! GO!”

For the fourth time today—Kiko filed away the notion that she had never Xyz Summoned this many times in a Duel before, let alone a single turn—her two monsters disappeared into a whirling galaxy, one that bloomed slightly bigger than any of the three that had brought forth her favorite monster:

“Mighty servant of the golden key, charge forward into battle!”

“Xyz Summon!” Kiko yelled. “Activate! Rank 3! Wind-Up Naval Mine Zenmaine!”

A seven-foot-tall scarlet blur rocketed out from before her, high into the air. Then, suddenly, two pincer-tipped shields burst from the mass of energy, propelled by a mixture of wrist-mounted jets and accordion arms so slender and fragile that it was a wonder how they supported the heavy claws at all. They whirled like a helicopter, bringing the newly born monster down gently until it hovered several feet over the field: a pyramid-shaped, brightly-colored torso flanked by the wings of a toy jet, with very little neck in between (Rank 3: ATK 1500/DEF 2100; ORU 2).

That would do for a start, Kiko thought. “Two cards face-down,” she declared, placing a pair of cards on her Duel Disk. “Turn end!”

“That was risky.”

Yū turned to one side. Kurokōri had sat down next to him, frowning. “On the one hand,” he was saying, “whittling down Kaede’s hand gives Kiko a strong edge heading out of her turn. Unless your student draws a good card, she’s about had it already.”

It was Yū’s turn to frown. “But?”

The Xyz Duelist exhaled through his sharpened teeth. “A lot of cards have effects that activate while they’re in the Graveyard,” he replied. “Either they trigger the moment they’re sent there, or they can be banished to activate them manually. How do we know none of Kaede’s cards had effects like that?”

Yū decided not to mention the cards he’d seen in the Cuisine Duelist’s Graveyard. “You’ve been observing her, remember,” he told Kurokōri. “You know what her Deck is like. Her Madolches go out of their way to avoid the Graveyard—the less of them are in there, the better. She’ll empty it out before long.”

Kurokōri thought about this. “And if Kiko stops her from doing that?”

Kaede had already begun her turn by the time Yū realized he had no ready answer.

She drew her card slowly, lackadaisically. All the tension that had been building up under the Cuisine Duelist’s pudgy arms had deflated, flopping about like a taffy treat that had been stretched too thin.

Kaede knew better than anyone the strengths of her own Deck—and its weaknesses. All of her Madolche monsters had the innate ability to shuffle themselves back inside if they were ever destroyed by an enemy card—either from battle or some special effect of their own. But Kiko’s strategy of repeatedly recycling her Hunter’s effect had not destroyed her cards at all—only sent them to the Graveyard. Ten years old though she was, Kaede was still an experienced enough Duelist to know there was the difference … and that Kiko, by exploiting that difference, had just dealt her a devastating setback.

“What’s wrong?”

Kiko’s question broke through, and it was only then that Kaede was aware of the wetness stinging at her eyes. The two cards left in her hand were blurry through her vision; she was staring at them without really seeing them.

“Why’d you have to do that, Kiko?” Her voice was halting, the words shaky. “I had a really g-good hand, and now it’s a-all gone! How am I supposed t-to impress Kurokōri now, like Yū-sensei w-wants me to?”

Kiko bit her lip. “This isn’t about who starts the Duel with the better hand, Kaede,” she said heavily. “It isn’t even about who can make the stronger field. It’s about what you can do under pressure. And if you’re about to go to pieces on me because I just took out over half of your starting hand … then what’s going to happen when Academia ends up doing worse to you, huh? How will Kurokōri know you’re the sort of fighter he’s looking for then?”

Kaede said nothing. Kiko put a hand on her hip. “I warned you that I was going to be more serious today than in any Duel I’ve ever faced you before,” she chided. “I saw the look on your face when you saw me Summon my Hunter—you knew what I was going to do to you. And yet you didn’t start looking for Action Cards to stop me. Maybe if you had, my Hunter might have discarded those instead of your precious Madolches, and saved your hand for when it really mattered. So answer my question—what’s wrong?”

The Cuisine Duelist bowed her head. “I … I dunno,” she mumbled. There was no point in denying it—they knew each other too well for that. “I just … wanted today to be a fun day with you … ”

“It can still be one,” soothed Kiko—and as if to prove her point, she clambered onto a nearby stuffed pig, bounced on its tummy, and flipped over Kaede to land atop her Zenmaine with a grin.

“Having to live my life with only one hand taught me a big lesson when I was little,” Kiko told her. “Your life is only what you make it. You can moan about it and wish you were able to do things everyone with two hands can. Or you can actually try to do those things with your one hand”—she flexed her metallic fingers for her friend to see—“and you’ll be that much stronger when you succeed.”

She held out the false hand invitingly. “So, c’mon,” she smiled. “Want to have some fun?”

Kaede needed another deep breath—then a second and third—before she was ready to take another look at her cards again. Her blue eyes zoomed across them all, narrowed in concentration—

—and her pudgy hand clenched into a fist. “I Summon Madolche Croiwanssant in Attack Position!” she cried, and a single card was promptly swiped across her Duel Disk.

At the edge of the field, Yū bit his lip. The last time he’d seen this monster was enough for him to schedule regular visits to his local dentist. He wished he’d brushed his teeth a little longer before leaving.

It was too late to fix that now, though: a giant pancake—cut up like the piece of a puzzle—had already popped out of thin air and plopped onto the field. A tiny toy puppy in a top hat had bounded from within almost before the piece had begun to settle, treading butter and syrup everywhere as it scampered in circles around Kaede, chasing its tail at breakneck speed (Level 3: ATK 1500/DEF 1200).

Yū couldn’t help it—he looked again. Jong and Kiri were both clutching at their hearts, though only the Korean was bothering to hide how cute she thought the sight was. On the other hand, Yūrei was grimacing—understandable; he’d come off a lot worse in the last Duel he’d faced it, Yū knew—and both Roşu and Kurokōri wore looks that suggested they were done with watching the Duel already. He couldn’t help but think that might be a mistake.

“And that’s just an appetizer!” Kaede slid a second card across her screen. “Next, I activate the Continuous Spell: Madolche Salon—and then I’ll activate Croiwanssant’s effect!” yelled Kaede. “Once per turn, by returning another Madolche card from my field to my hand, I can give it 300 ATK and another Level! So I’ll return my Salon—then play it again, and make my cute little puppy even cuter!” One swiped card later, and Croiwanssant was yip-yip-yipping in delight, perhaps having noticed its point gauge rising to 1800.

“Continuous Trap: Spring Hoisting!” Kiko bellowed just then, revealing one of her Set cards. “Once per turn, I can target a Machine-Type Xyz Monster I control, and attach a Wind-Up monster from my hand or field to it as another Overlay Unit! I target my Naval Mine Zenmaine, and attach my Magician!” Next to her, the monster in question shimmered with red flame, and within seconds was just another sphere of energy that orbited the monster on which Kiko stood.

That just left Zenmaine as the only monster on her field that Kaede could attack—and its DEF, Yū knew, was a lot more than even the most mischievous and determined of puppies could gnaw through.

But Kaede wasn’t done yet—not even close. “Madolche Salon’s effect lets me Normal Summon a second Madolche monster once every turn,” she went on, “so let’s serve up another tasty dish! I Summon Madolche Anjelly in Attack Position!” And as she swiped the card she’d drawn onto her blade, a second puzzle piece made of red gelatin dropped from the sky and landed right next to Croiwanssant’s piece with a wet, wobbly flop— almost flattening the poor pooch before it could succeed in catching its tail.

Then the monster saw its new partner leaping from the new puzzle piece and onto the field, striking a pose like a gymnast who’d just stuck her dismount. The little girl was almost Kaede’s age and height, though her white dress and brown hair were only slightly less extravagant-looking than those of her Summoner (Level 4: ATK 1000/DEF 1000). At once, Croiwanssant had leapt into Anjelly’s outstretched arms, nuzzling into her shoulder as the little girl scratched behind its ears, cooing playfully.

Kaede paused only to ogle the tooth-rotting display with a high-pitched squeal of glee—and then: “Now for my Anjelly’s effect! Once per turn, I can Release it and Special Summon a Madolche monster from my Deck that can’t be destroyed by battle, but goes right back in when I end my turn! I Special Summon Madolche Messengelato!”

Croiwanssant scurried away just in time: Anjelly bounced on her puzzle piece and whirled away with a giggle and a flash, gelatin and all. But yet another piece had clattered onto the field in its place: a crispy, meter-square waffle that supported a black-clad postman with green hair (Level 4: ATK 1600/DEF 1000).

Even Kiko couldn’t resist laughing at the antics that followed: Messengelato took one look at the happy puppy and started running in circles as if it was Croiwanssant’s favorite chew toy, with the monster in hot pursuit. But Kaede ignored them; Yū could tell that with every card she played, she was beginning to salvage her sudden setback.

“Messengelato’s effect!” she cried, raising her voice a little over the continuing yip-yip-yips of Croiwanssant. “If I Special Summon it while I control a Beast-Type Madolche monster, I can add a Madolche Spell or Trap Card from my Deck to my hand! I add and activate another Continuous Spell—Madolche Ticket!”

Seconds later, she’d placed another card on her Duel Disk—and Yū was grinning. So was Kurokōri; he leaned forward next to Yū, suddenly much more invested in this Duel than he was in the cutesy display of holographic interactivity.

“Two Level 4s … ” he murmured to himself.

“Oh, yeah.” The LDS Duelist smirked. “None of this song and dance is for show. Just watch.”

And sure enough, Kaede was rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “It’s time for the main course! I’ll use my Level 4 Croiwanssant and Messengelato to construct the Overlay Network!”

The two monsters, still huddled together, rose into the air as if borne aloft by a great wind. Golden light surged over them both, swirling into the miniature galaxy that had bloomed between the two girls:

“Sugar-sweet desserts of faraway lands—each one made with her own two hands!

“Xyz Summon!” Kaede chanted. “Feast your eyes! Rank 4! Queen Madolche Tiaramisu!”

At first glance, the puzzle piece in the sky looked bigger than the rest—enough to cast a small shadow over the field—but Yū realized an instant later that this was because it was only falling more slowly. Even when the slice of pastry drew level with Kaede, it only hovered several feet above the carpeted ground—all the better to protect the stately, silver-haired woman on the throne that it supported (Rank 4: ATK 2200/DEF 2100; ORU 2).

Yū saw Kiko gulp. There was nothing threatening at all about Queen Tiaramisu’s appearance, but he knew Kaede’s opponent was right to be scared all the same. He’d seen the Cuisine Duelist’s ace monster in action more times than he could count—and being her best friend, she must have seen it more than enough to know what it could do.

“Queen Tiaramisu’s effect,” Kaede smirked. “Once per turn, by detaching an Overlay Unit, I can target up to 2 Madolche cards in my Graveyard and shuffle them into my Deck! And then,” she added, plucking a pair out of her Graveyard slot and slipping them into her Deck, “I can shuffle the same number of cards on your field into the Deck as well! So I’ll shuffle your Spring Hoisting and your Zenmaine!”

Yū had only met a handful of cards that had as nasty an effect as Tiaramisu—even the ones he’d seen Kiko use today were a minor fraction of them. It was customary to protect monsters from being destroyed by battle or by enemy card effects—or even from being targeted by those card effects. But Tiaramisu did neither of those things—in fact, there were really only two ways to protect against it. The first was to negate its activation and force Kaede to waste an Overlay Unit—which, judging from how Tiaramisu was using one hand to nibble at a slice of cake that bobbed near her throne, meant it was too late for that.

The second was to render one of the shuffled cards completely immune to card effects, which very few cards in the game did—but which a fair share of Action Cards could. And it was for that reason that Kiko acted.

She raised her false hand, and Zenmaine did the same with a claw, stretching it out fifty feet, a hundred—two hundred—until it grappled at a house of cards in the distance. Pincers snapped, accordion joints squeezed, and Kiko and her monster were propelled away, beginning the sort of high-speed, high-flying display that made Action Duels so entertaining.

Kaede growled, annoyed, as she watched Zenmaine swing through the supersized playing cards like a monkey in the jungle. None of her monsters were either big enough or quick enough to use as mounts—one of her few weaknesses in an Action Duel, Yū knew; and one that needed the sort of inventive attitude a girl her age didn’t often possess.

So it was that Kiko found an Action Card less than ten seconds later, resting somewhere inside that house of cards. “Action Magic: Invisibility!” she cried, and Zenmaine was suddenly wiped from view as she dismounted, sliding down the slope of a second card house and flipping onto the back of a stuffed kitten the size of a car. “Any monster I target with this card becomes immune to all other card effects for the rest of this turn!”

Kaede swiped the air with a fist—but she still had a few reasons to smirk, and managing to shuffle Kiko’s Spring Hoisting into her Deck was only one of them. “My Continuous Spells, Ticket and Salon, both have effects that activate if a card effect shuffles a Madolche monster from my field or my Graveyard into my Deck,” she explained. “Once per turn, Salon can Set a Madolche Spell or Trap right from my Deck”—a single card was spat into her waiting hand, then into her Duel Disk—“and my Ticket can add a Madolche monster from my Deck to my hand.”

“But that’s just the start!” Kaede fluttered her chosen card in the air. “If I control a Fairy-Type Madolche monster, like my charming Tiaramisu here,” Kaede said, gesturing to her regal monster, who waved back while hiding a faint blush, “Ticket’s effect can Special Summon that monster from my Deck in Attack Position instead! So I’m going to Special Summon the first card your combo sent to my Graveyard—my darling Madolche Puddincess!”

And yet another piece of whatever supersized puzzle it came from dropped from on high. This one was heavier than the others; Tiaramisu’s throne actually jumped an inch or two when it hit the field with a loud THUNK. But the monster that landed on top did so with barely a tap of her white shoes against the gigantic dessert. Not one gust of wind stirred—an act made doubly impressive by the cake-frosted ruffles of Puddincess’ heavy white gown, and the equally enormous explosion of blonde hair that bloomed so high above her tiara that she looked like a body double of Kaede herself (Level 5: ATK 1000/DEF 1000).

Even as Yū watched in stunned amazement, however, that point gauge exploded to 2300/2300. “Puddincess’ effect gives it a bonus 800 ATK and DEF while there aren’t any monsters in my Graveyard!” Kaede said smugly.

It was Kiko’s turn for her mouth to fall open. “But—what about that Overlay Unit you detached?!” she demanded.

But just as quickly, she closed her mouth—then opened it again—and Yū suspected she already knew the answer.

For the Action Field was cracking beneath their feet—not into jagged shards, but into meter-wide slices, as cleanly and smoothly as if some giant invisible saw was carving it apart: a fresh puzzle waiting to be disassembled, boxed up, and then remade. Pieces by the dozen floated upwards into the sky, replaced by entire towers and walls of pastry, topped with puffs of frosting and drizzles of chocolate—

Yū recognized Kaede’s Field Spell: Madolche Château, even before the Cuisine Duelist announced it for all to hear—and knew at once that she must have shuffled it with Tiaramisu, then used her Salon to Set it to her Field Zone. It looked like the biggest and most ambitious gingerbread house in history—and by far the most enticing; the LDS Duelist never failed to feel his mouth water after even one glimpse at the extra-sugary landscape.

“Madolche Château’s first effect shuffles every Madolche monster in my Graveyard right back into the Deck,” said Kaede, “and then its second effect gives every Madolche monster on my field another 500 ATK and DEF!” She gestured to her Tiaramisu, whose silvery hair gleamed with inner power as her own gauge rose to 2700/2600.

“Battle Phase!” Both of Kaede’s monsters steeled themselves, ready for action. “Madolche Puddincess—attack Naval Mine Zenmaine!” And both little girls were off, monster sprinting right and Summoner left, virtually indistinguishable amidst the rush of the Duel and the byzantine fusion of Action Field with Field Spell.

“Too little, too late, Kaede!” cried Kiko, making a fist with her false hand. “Zenmaine’s effect—whenever it would be destroyed, I can detach an Overlay Unit instead!” And right as Puddincess bounced up from the rubber ball she’d used as a springboard, her high heels brought together in a drilling kick, one of Zenmaine’s accordion-claws swatted downwards at the last moment, blocking Puddincess’ attack and sending her right through one of the Overlay Units that orbited it. The monster tumbled onto the carpeted streets in a jumble of petticoats—but recovered surprisingly quickly, skidding to a halt and unhooking her crown in the same movement.

“It’s a good effect,” Kiko admitted, watching Puddincess launch that tiara at her monster like a boomerang, “but Zenmaine’s effect isn’t once per turn. And it works with both battles and card effects, too,” she added, “which means your Puddincess’ second effect won’t destroy it after she battles—like I know you were hoping to try!”

As if to prove her point, Zenmaine’s other arm flicked outward, and suddenly the monster’s tiara was sent spiraling through another of its Overlay Units—which winked out without a sound—and into a wall of wooden building blocks. One curve of the crown embedded itself in the wood, quivering mere inches from Kaede’s own head.

Yū grimaced. Kiko knew Kaede too well—perhaps well enough that she’d even anticipated her best friend would not only bounce back, but turn the tide of the Duel in her favor. So she’d Summoned Zenmaine as a perfect defense against any monster Kaede could try to Summon, or any effect that might otherwise have left her open for an attack.

But Kaede seemed determined to press on. “Your turn, Queen Tiaramisu!” she ordered. “Attack!” And the stately monster rose to her feet, scepter in hand. Tiaramisu twirled the ornate rod once—then fired a beam of blinding energy right at Zenmaine. It scythed right through its last Overlay Unit, but the monster was too quick—a clattering of accordion joints brought both pincers together in a shield that protected both it and Kiko.

“That’s your last monster to attack,” smirked Kiko. “Which means it’s time for Zenmaine’s second effect! During the End Phase, if I used its first effect at any point this turn, I can target a card on the field and destroy it! And as cool as it is that you Summoned Tiaramisu after everything I put you through … nah.” She poked her tongue out at Kaede. “I can’t leave it out there for you to use again. So make it happen, Zenmaine—destroy Queen Tiara—!”

She fell silent. A strange cracking noise could be heard, and it was apparent to everyone where it was coming from.

Zenmaine’s tetrahedral body was crumbling, disintegrating into a thousand plastic shards. The Lily’s Duelist was able to leap off just in time before her monster shattered completely, collapsing onto the carpeted roads in a pile of mechanical innards. Then those shimmered away, vanishing into thin air—leaving behind only a flummoxed Kiko.

“Wha—how?!” she yelled. She looked barely able to form words. “My monster still had an Overlay Unit when it fought Tiaramisu!” Then she blinked—and rounded on Kaede. “Unless … ”

The Cuisine Duelist giggled from behind her wall of blocks. “Look what I found!” she sang gaily, waving a single card at Kiko. “Action Magic: Single Destruction! If my opponent controls a monster—and only that monster—I can target that monster and destroy it! Easy as pie!”

Kiko clutched her hair so tightly that a few strands parted company with her scalp, entwined within her spindly prosthetic fingers. “That’s what you were doing,” she breathed in realization. “You wanted to get rid of its Overlay Units before you used that Action Card to get rid of Zenmaine itself!”  Or had she gone even further than that? the Lily's Duelist wondered.  Had Kaede been counting on her using Spring Hoisting to attach her Magician and leave Zenmaine alone, then shuffling her Trap back into her Deck so that her Xyz Monster wouldn't get too strong?

Kaede’s smile was audibly stretching at the seams of her mouth. “I never can fool you, can I? But!” She bounced out from behind her wall, her gown fluttering all over the place. “Since it’s still my turn, I’ve got one last course to serve up—and I’ll start by banishing the third card you discarded from my hand last turn—the Trap Card: Madolche Promenade! That lets me attach a Madolche monster from my hand, Deck, or Graveyard to a Madolche Xyz Monster I control as an extra Overlay Unit! I attach my Puddincess to my Queen Tiaramisu—and then.”

Kiko didn’t know how it was possible that Kaede was grinning even wider. “Then,” the Cuisine Duelist said again, “I’m going to use my Tiaramisu as a whole Overlay Unit … and reconstruct the Overlay Network to Summon this!”

As Kaede’s two monsters locked hands with one another, shimmering with golden energy, Yū could hear mutters and murmurs from everyone else who was spectating the Duel. His two classmates, Jong and Roşu, were conversing silently again—though the latter looked much more invested in this Duel than he had been before; a single eyebrow was arched above his brow, and his eyes were fixed on Kaede’s monsters as they rose into the air. Yūrei was cringing even lower than he was before, no doubt remembering how his first loss to Kaede had ended. Kiri and Kurokōri, however, were both just as slack-jawed as the other—and the Xyz Duelist was rubbing at his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing:

“A princess who's so sugary sweet, that just one smile will rot your teeth!”

“Xyz Change!” Kaede crowed. “Feast your eyes on my greatest recipe ever! Rank 5! Madolche Puddincess Choco-a-la-Mode!”

With a flare of light, Tiaramisu disappeared from view, shrinking into the galaxy that swirled around her throne—and was almost instantly replaced by Kaede’s Duel Monster double for the second time this Duel. This time, however, saw Puddincess in vastly different clothes; her gleaming silver tiara was bigger, while the gown that bloomed around her body looked like it had been made from some of the darkest chocolate Yū had ever seen or tasted in his life (Rank 5: ATK 2500 » 3000/DEF 2200 » 2700; ORU 3).

“Holy … ” Kurokōri didn’t look like he was ready to take back everything he’d said about Kaede just yet. But Yū could tell the thought was crossing his mind. No doubt he’d considered this an advanced form of Xyz Summoning even back home in Heartland—one that might cement her place among all these Duelists today.

The LDS Duelist did his best to keep from looking smug. But he couldn’t resist an expertly timed “I told you.”

“Turn end.”

The Cuisine Duelist, on the other hand, wasn’t even trying to hide her smug expression. Kiko knew she had good reason not to; not only was Choco-a-la-Mode far stronger than most monsters she carried in her entire Deck and Extra Deck, but her effects would win Kaede the Duel if her next draw turned out to be a bust.

She bit her lip. Here we go … “My turn!” she screamed, drawing her next card with a flourish that ruffled the carpet under her feet. Kiko turned the card over in her fingers—

—and immediately felt the gears turn in her head. “I activate the Spell Card: Overwound Spring!” Kiko shouted, slapping her freshly drawn card onto her Duel Disk. “By targeting a Wind-Up monster in my Graveyard, I can Special Summon it in face-up Defense Position with its effects negated! I choose to revive Wind-Up Magician!” With a snap of her fingers, a dark purple portal sizzled in front of her feet, singing the carpet beneath for a few moments before spitting out the same purple-white toy figure she’d used to start the Duel—though minus the golden key in its back (Level 4: ATK 600/DEF 1800).

“Then, I’ll Summon Wind-Up Warrior in Attack Position!” the Lily’s Duelist declared, slamming another card onto her blade and watching a yellow-white, lantern-jawed toy shimmer onto her field. This one was a head taller than Magician and at least twice as broad, flexing burly claws at Choco-a-la-Mode as though they could do a lot more than pinch the skin (Level 4: ATK 1200/DEF 1800).

“That’s two Level 4s on my field—and you know what’s coming next, Kaede!” Kiko told her. “I’m going to use my Warrior and my Magician to construct the Overlay Network!” She saw her friend draw back as Magician and Warrior coalesced into scarlet and golden spheres of energy, sucked inside yet another galaxy of stars before her:

“Elite servant of the golden key, lead the charge to battle!”

“Xyz Summon!” Kiko screeched. “Activate! Rank 4! Wind-Up Armor Zenmaister!”

Something huge and blocky erupted from the stellar mass: a giant robot at least twenty feet tall—almost as big as most of the stuffed animals that littered the Action Field. Kiko bounced on one of them to propel herself upwards, and alight on her newest monster’s tetrahedral body, buoyed upwards by four jet engines that belched enough heat to rival a furnace (Rank 4: ATK 1900/DEF 1500; ORU 2).

“Armor Zenmaister’s effect!” She had to shout at the top of her lungs to have any chance of Kaede hearing her. “For each Overlay Unit attached to it, it gains 300 ATK!”

She gestured to her monster’s point gauge, now sitting firmly at 2500. “But I’m not done yet!” crowed Kiko. “Or did you forget that I still have one more face-down card on my field?”

Judging by the way Kaede’s eyes had bugged, she had indeed forgotten. Gotcha. “Trap, activate: Over Wrench!” cried Kiko, revealing her coup de grace at last. “By targeting a Wind-Up monster on my field, I can double its current ATK and DEF, and return it to my hand during the End Phase! But I don’t plan on going that far,” she added, smirking as her monster’s gauge skyrocketed to 5000/3000. “Because … ”

She broke off; a glint of light had suddenly caught her eye. “Hold that thought,” grinned the Lily’s Duelist—and with a tap of her foot against Zenmaister’s body, the monster was off, rocketing over the field like a jet fighter with arms. Those arms closed over the Action Card an instant later, tossing it up to where Kiko could catch it in her prosthetic arm before the slipstream buffeted it out of reach. She turned it over—

—and grimaced. Oh, Kaede … you’re going to hate me for this. But the rueful feeling didn’t last for long. “Okay, where was I?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, yeah! Battle Phase!” she cried. “Armor Zenmaister—attack Choco-a-la-Mode! Sonic Clockwork Clash!”

She barely had time to brace herself—Zenmaister put on a burst of speed, rocketing through the air in a wide arc over the field and bare meters over Kaede and her monster lookalike. The slipstream slashed through the dress of Choco-a-la-mode, utterly ruining it before the bulk of the shockwave upended her completely and shattered her into a billion motes of photonic dust. Kaede herself fared little better; she was sent head over white heels into the same wall of building blocks she’d used to take shelter in earlier. The entire construction caved in, and Kiko barely heard the squeak of pain and surprise from under the jumble of toys as Kaede’s LP plummeted to 2000.

“And finally, with the Action Magic: Wonder Chance”—Kiko held on tight, even as her monster slowed down—“I can target a monster I control, and make it attack once again! Go, Zenmaister! Attack her Life Points directly!”

Kaede dug herself out of the pile of blocks too late to dodge what happened next: Zenmaister brought out its hands at arms’ length—then slapped them together with such force that the shockwave created by the impact was actually visible. It went straight through Kaede’s body, sending her backwards and airborne with a squeal. The Cuisine Duelist bounced once—twice—thrice against the carpeted streets, before finally crashing upside down into the belly of a stuffed tiger with enough force that it nearly collapsed on her, too. Fortunately, it was more forgiving than the fall her LP gauge had taken; it shrieked its piercing tone for all to hear, having been depleted to zero.

“Ow-ow-ow … ” she was heard to mutter through strained teeth, “rug burn rug burn rug burn ow-ow-owie … ”

And just like that, as Toy Town dissolved back to the skyline of Maiami City, Yū felt like he could breathe again.

It was an immense relief to know that his pupil was okay after taking on an assault like that. It was even more so to see Kiko rushing for her, pulling her out of the tiger’s embrace and to her feet. The Cuisine Duelist’s intricately styled hair was a thorough mess by now, and Yū might have to find a few Band-Aids for the worst bits of rug burn that he could see on her arms and legs. Other than that, she was okay—the worst wound she could have received today would have been her pride.

“She got too greedy,” Kurokōri said from alongside him. “If Kaede had left her Puddincess be, then her Ticket and her Château could have recycled it—maybe even brought it back to her field.”

“But then you wouldn’t have known she was capable of that level of Xyz Summoning,” Yū said with a knowing grin. “Isn’t that why you wanted to see us all in action?”

The Xyz Duelist had no immediate answer. “It doesn’t do her any good to show off in a combat situation,” he said, rather lamely. Yū took that as proof that he’d won that argument for the time being.

Kiko and Kaede sprinted up to them then, holding hands and looking distinctly disheveled—Kaede more so by an order of magnitude. “Great show, kids,” the LDS Duelist said to them both. “You especially, Kaede,” he added. “That was one of the best comebacks I’ve seen from a Duelist … well, ever.”

Kaede attempted a smile. “It wasn’t good enough for me to win, though, Yū-sensei,” she said softly. She was not looking him in the eye.

“You’re selling yourself short, girl,” Kiko chided from beside her. “I’m not stupid—I won that Duel out of dumb luck. That last Action Card was what did it.”

“Who’s selling themselves short now?” But Yū smiled. “Take a rest, girls—you’ve earned it after today.”

“Actually … ” Kiko had an odd look on her face. She was staring at Kaede, then back to the grassy field of the park where they’d been Dueling. “Could you maybe … wait to hold the next Duel?”

She bit her lip. “For, like … a couple hours?”

Yū blinked—and then it hit him. He turned to Kurokōri—but the Xyz Duelist had already sussed out Kiko’s intentions as well. He was staring back at the LDS Duelist with a please-don’t-waste-my-time look on his face.

Taking the hint, Yū folded his arms. “Half an hour,” he said. He saw Kaede perk up, and knew his instincts had been correct. But he wasn’t about to let them forget the lessons they’d learned today so easily.

Unfortunately, Kiko had the look of a hard seller on her face. “Full hour,” she smirked. She tink-tink-tinked her false fingers against the metal of her palm as if trying to sound threatening.

Yū had been threatened with worse. “Forty-five minutes,” he said definitively. “And the two of you had better be super-serious for the rest of the day.”

Kaede’s baby-blue eyes lit up with glee. Kiko had seen. “Deal,” she said—and then she’d dashed off in the opposite direction, calling over her shoulder, “Last one to the bouncy puppy’s a Monster Egg!”

“Wha—hey, come back here! No fair!” spluttered Kaede, racing off after her. Yū barely missed her shoes, having been cast off once more without a care in the world, sailing inches over his scalp as he fiddled with his Duel Disk. The two childhood friends made their way towards a freshly reactivated Toy Town, and wasted no time in setting upon its fantastical sights with glee.

Kurokōri buried a hand in his face with a sigh. “And Kiko was doing so well,” he grumbled. “I hope the rest of these kids aren’t nearly as scatterbrained as the ones I saw Dueling just now.”

“Don’t make me remind you again, Kurokōri,” Yū smirked devilishly at him, barely paying attention to Kiko and Kaede prancing across the huge stuffed dog like kindergartners trying to out-jump each other on the backyard trampoline. “They’re younger than you. Of course they’re going to act more childish. Just give them this.

“And besides,” he added slyly, “I bet even you had to get the wiggles out of your system, when you were their age.”

Kurokōri did not speak for a long while. He looked away from Yū, towards the whimsical locale of Toy Town and its two resident Duelists—and perhaps even past that.

“That was a long time ago,” he muttered, half to himself. Yū could only hear it because of how close he was to the Xyz Duelist. “Too long. They got burned out of me a long time ago—just like the heart and soul of my home.”

He stayed so quiet after that that Yū knew there was no point in asking if he was all right—or if there was anything he could do to help. Perhaps he was better off focusing on making this day go swimmingly, the LDS Duelist thought as he let Kaede’s and Kiko’s shrieks of joy permeate his ears. There were still four more Duelists left to test—and he knew they brought far more to the table from experience alone than a pair of preteen prodigies.

So he lay back in the grass, relaxed, and closed his eyes in contentment, already feeling more at ease today than he had all morning.

That, he would later learn, turned out to be a mistake.

Chapter Text

VIII

A little less than an hour later, Kaede and Kiko—both of their outfits tousled and rumpled, both sweating and panting as though they’d just run a race—watched Toy Town vanish from view with no small amount of longing. But they were grinning too giddily to feel even slightly disappointed; Kaede’s smile was so particularly cheek-straining that an outsider could be forgiven for forgetting she’d just lost a Duel.

“That was so much fun, Kiko!” the Cuisine Duelist giggled for the tenth time in as many minutes, bouncing over to Yū with a ruffle of petticoats, who patted her on the back in reply. “I hope I get to visit your school one day. Then we can Duel on that Field again, and I’ll make us even when I kick your butt, and then we can play for a whole hour after that next time and—”

“Kaede, the more you talk about it, the more I’m going to be tempted,” said Kiko, smiling back at her, prying her Duel Disk out of the magnetic clasp on her arm and sliding it back into her purse. “Just remember what Yū said—we’ve got to be super-serious for the rest of the day.”

“Right!” And the little girl immediately puffed up her chest and cheeks, setting her jaw into a teeth-grinding snarl that might have been her idea of a stereotypical drill sergeant. Kiko couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing at the ridiculous expression. Yū himself had to turn away from her at the sight; he didn’t trust himself to say a word. The LDS student could already feel his chest muscles aching from trying to restrain his own laughter.

Kurokōri had noticed. “Time and a place, friend,” he admonished Yū gently. “We’ve still got four more people to go. If we can get through them all before sunset, that’d be great.”

With great difficulty, Yū managed to calm himself down. Wiping one last tear of suppressed mirth from his eye, he now produced the straws he’d used to decide the combatants of the first Duel.

“All right—Kaede, Kiko, find a spot on the grass and sit down,” he instructed them. “Somewhere in the shade, if you like—you’ve put yourself through a lot today. Everyone else—it’s the same drill as before. Take a straw, any straw. The two shortest straws are next up to Duel.”

Jong, Roşu, Kiri, and Yūrei each stepped forward, taking a straw from Yū’s hand one at a time.

“Okay—hold out your straws.”

They did so; Yū immediately noticed the two longest straws being held by both boys in the group. “There we have it: the next Duel’s going to be Kiri against Miss Jong. You two go ahead and get set up—let me know when you’re ready to start.”

“Got it!” Both girls strode forward, producing their own Duel Disks as they did so: Kiri’s was the same sky-blue device that Kaede and Kiko had seen her using earlier today at the aquarium, while Jong had already secured a dark gray Disk to her left wrist.

They stopped at the edge of a peaceful-looking duck pond nearby, staring each other down with an intensity that surprised Yū. He only needed one look at Kiri to know that she wasn’t simply ready, but raring to show Kurokōri and all others else present what she and her Deck could do. Jong, by contrast, was more level in her expression—but the LDS Duelist could still feel the quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from the Korean’s entire body.

“Okay, girls,” he said, sitting under the nearest tree he could find; Kurokōri joined him. “If you’re both ready”—he knew that to say so was pointless, but protocol was protocol—“then let’s get started.”

He pressed the randomizer function on his Duel Disk again. Seconds later: “Action Field: Atlantis, the Legendary City selected,” announced the familiar computerized voice. “RSV generators online.”

For some reason, Kiri had perked up immediately upon hearing the name of the chosen Field—and the smirk now spreading across her face was comparable in size to even some of Kaede’s biggest grins.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

But what exactly the Blue Sea Duelist meant in saying this was unclear. Her next action, to cast off her shoes and socks—and then, before anyone could protest, her blouse and skirt—offered only more confusion, even as it revealed a blue-and-sea-green two-piece swimsuit she’d been wearing underneath. The unexpected change in wardrobe proved only a temporary distraction, however; the Solid Vision had just started to terraform the park’s surrounding greenery for the second time today.

The scattering of ducks and waterfowl that had been skimming the pond’s surface took off with a series of startled quacks and honks as the water suddenly began rising out from under them, as though it was being filled by dozens of hoses from underneath. Within seconds it had crested the banks. Seconds after that, it was lapping at Kiri’s toes; Jong was eyeing the still-rising water apprehensively, unsure as to whether she should make for higher ground.

Yet Kiri remained where she stood, even as the water now rose above her knees without even pausing. She’d banded up her clothes into a roll around her flops by now, and tossed them to a startled-looking Kiko. The rest of the group, and a few newcomers and bystanders in the distance, were already scrambling for dry ground, Roşu in the lead. She secured her Deck into its slot within her Duel Disk, grinning in anticipation—

—and then, as the water began to rise toward her hips, Kiri raised the device to her mouth.

“Aqua Sparkle Voice!” she cried out. “Blue Sea Makeup!”

Yū frowned. “Aqua what now?” But any further questions he had were instantly snuffed out moments later; he felt his jaw drop in shock at what was happening to Kiri.

Thousands of tiny bubbles had appeared on the girl’s skin, as if she’d just emerged from a very soapy bath—indeed, Yū was ready to take them as actual soapsuds until he noticed that each of them seemed to be giving off a very faint glow. Now these bubbles were racing along Kiri’s body, arms, and submerged legs, before finally covering her head inside the shining film of foam—

Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, the shimmering bubbles now disappeared—and a number of awed gasps rose from the sidelines: Kiri’s body—now up to the breast in the still-rising water—had become much more shiny and sleek in their wake; her skin was catching the sun as though it had been freshly waxed. A circular, grayish-blue breastplate had materialized over the top of Kiri’s swimsuit, while a simple tiara and gauntlets of a similar color now encircled her forehead and forearms—

But the most bizarre sight came when the Blue Sea Duelist dove headfirst into the churning water. Yū, expecting to see the girl’s bare feet as she slid into the water, suddenly felt his eyes strain at their sockets at the blue, shimmering fluked tail, perhaps half as long again as Kiri’s legs, that had appeared instead—

Some faraway part of his brain was putting it all together—somehow, some way, Kiri had turned into—

“A mermaid?!”

As if Jong’s exclamation had been a signal, the transformed Duelist broke the surface of the water, revealing herself in full. The tail had added a good two feet to her body length, and was as wide at its flukes as Kiri was broad at the shoulders. Droplets of water, both on her skin and in the air, dazzled in the bright sunlight.

“Sea Angel!” Kaede and Kiko had spoken in tandem, each as excited and awestruck as the other. Roşu’s eyebrows had arched as high as they could possibly go. Yūrei looked even more sideswiped at the transformation than how Yū imagined himself.

So shocked was Yū, in fact, that he’d completely forgotten about the water now covering the Dueling site. A massive wave had erupted from the exact center—a veritable sphere of expanding water—and by the time he realized he had no time to dodge it, it had engulfed him, Jong, Kurokōri, and everyone else within sight.

He spluttered and flailed about, having been brought back to his senses. “Aw, jeez that’s cold!” he shouted—

—and then he blinked as what he just said caught up with him. “Wait—how am I talking underwater?!” he asked nobody in particular, watching the bubbles float up from his mouth and feeling utterly lost as to how this was happening.

“It must be part of the Action Field,” said Kurokōri, floating beside him. The Xyz Duelist looked marginally less confused than everyone else at the change of scenery, though all the more shocked for it. “The water’s just another hologram; that’s why we can breathe it. Because it’s light made solid, it’s programmed to feel like water, so anyone can swim in it—but because it isn’t really water, we can’t drown in it, or even get wet in it.”

Yū was only half listening—he had only just now noticed the full extent of the Action Field he’d activated. The grassy ground below them had vanished completely, replaced by a ruined metropolis of roughly hewn stone—submerged at least a hundred feet beneath the surface of the water. The passage of untold centuries had covered the sunken city in all manner of coral and plant life, reducing its population to so many fish, and the kids now suspended above its depths.

Alone of everyone present, Kiri was swimming in a lazy breaststroke, taking in her newfound surroundings with gusto. “Pretty cool, huh?” she called out, throwing her arms wide to display her mermaid body in full. “Everyone at the Blue Sea Duel School can do it, too!”

No one else appeared to have heard her; they were too busy adjusting to the artificial ocean around them. Kaede was doing a frenzied doggy-paddle to the nearest dry land she could find, her dress blooming every which way with every splash she made. Kiko, wisely, had made it to shore ahead of her, Yūrei in tow, and they now both sat either side of Roşu. She was cradling her false hand carefully as though worried that some of the water—holographic or otherwise—had gotten into its inner workings, while Yūrei was shaking his spiked, slicked hair back and forth so violently that the Romanian had stepped back as if worried that a gelled-up strand would rip right through his blazer.

Jong, for her part, had recovered quickly—enough so that Yū suspected that her time at LDS, and perhaps even before that in Korea, had given her some experience in navigating Fields that affected a Duelist’s movement. But he still couldn’t help but think that Jong was much less suited to Dueling in the water than Kiri was right now—he suspected the Blue Sea Duelist had even been counting on an aquatic Action Field to better show off her skillset. Why else, he reasoned, would she be wearing a swimsuit under her clothes in the first place?

Kurokōri, meanwhile, was wild-eyed in shocked realization. “It’s a costume—like Kiri’s wearing a shell of hard-light around herself,” he muttered. “There must be a program somewhere in her Duel Disk that lets her access it whenever she wants. That means what she was saying earlier must have been a voice command—it let her activate that costume specifically for this Duel.”

He nodded approvingly. “This is new. I like new.”

“They didn’t have this level of technology in Heartland?” Yū wondered.

“Not to this extent, no. Which is a shame—I think being able to wear Solid Vision like that would’ve helped us a lot during the invasion,” said the Xyz Duelist.

Yū bit his lip, unsure what to say to that. “It’s … you’re talking about it like it’s battle armor,” he eventually settled on. “You overheard enough of what she was saying when she and those other girls got here—this mermaid thing must be part of her Dueling style. It’s a form of entertainment to her. We have a lot of Duelists like that in this town.”

“Oh, I get you,” Kurokōri replied. “But I’m also thinking she didn’t turn into a mermaid just to strut her stuff, either.” He threw out his arms. “Look at where we are—an underwater environment. If you looked at this from a tactical standpoint like I am right now, you’d have realized by now that Kiri’s costume can let her move through all this water to find Action Cards—and much more quickly than Jong ever could.”

He sniffed. “The Duel hasn’t started, and she’s already got the edge here,” he said with an air of finality.

Kiri had heard. “You’re darned right I’ve got the edge!” she grinned, twirling in the water. “We at Blue Sea are all about WATER monsters—from the smallest of fishes to the biggest of sea serpents! No other Duel School in all of Japan knows them like we do—and we don’t care what your Leo Duel School has to say about that, Miss Jong!” she hollered at the Korean.

As if to emphasize her boast, she brought her left arm into a classic Dueling position. The Duel Disk attached to it now projected its chevron blade with a mechanical hiss, its edges glinting with the bright green of sea glass.

“You should care.” Jong had managed to work herself into an upright position, and now floated a few meters above the coral-covered city square as she activated her own Duel Disk, causing a light blue blade to lance along her own left forearm. “I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say my Deck is unlike anything you’ve ever faced.”

She began to mirror Kiri’s stance. “Maybe if you’re good enough to last long enough, you’ll find out why that is. Until then … Gaja! Gyeoltu!” she barked in Korean, bringing her Duel Disk to her breast in some kind of salute.

Then, in a flash, five cards had appeared in both girls’ hands. “DUEL!”

As fresh Life Point counters appeared above the combatants’ heads, a thousand points of light splintered above them, scattering to the farthest reaches of the Action Field. But for once, this dazzling spectacle had been eclipsed: Kiri had wasted no time in darting above Jong as though she’d just been shot from a crossbow, and began to swim in a wide arc around the field at breakneck speed.

“What the—what’s going on here?” Yū asked, half to himself in his own amazement.

“She’s marking.” Kurokōri had spoken so quickly that the LDS student had turned round at him, confused. “Trying to find out where each of those Action Cards landed, and memorize their positions so she can use them later on.”

“Not what I was getting at,” said Yū, pointing frantically at where the Blue Sea Duelist had once been. “Look at how fast she’s swimming! The human body can’t reach those kinds of speeds in the water—not even in a costume like what she’s wearing! It’s anatomically impossible!”

A bluish blur shot past him, so close that he could feel the wake brush his face. “Trade secret!” sang Kiri. “Well—not really. Maybe I’ll tell Jong after she tells me what’s so super-secret about her Deck!” she giggled. It was plain to see this girl, perhaps more at home in the water than she was on dry land, was having a blast already.

Jong, however, kept her face even, and her hand close to her breast as she acted. “Then we’ll all just have to be patient,” she said, plucking a quartet of cards out of her hand. “Four cards face-down. Turn end!” They appeared in front of her—one pair to her right, another to her left—then disappeared with barely a noise or a ripple.

Kiri scoffed at the sight. “Is that all you can do? Is your hand bad enough that you can’t even Summon a single monster? Or,” she added, smirking a little, “are you just that worried about making sure your Deck stays a secret?”

Jong said nothing. “Oh well—no matter,” shrugged the Blue Sea Duelist. “If you’re going to be defensive about it, I’ll just have to crack that defense. My turn!”

She drew her card, slicing it through the water as if it had the thinness of a knife. Kiri’s eyes locked on it—and she grinned. “Perfect. I’ll start by playing the Field Spell: Forgotten Capital Lemuria!”

The ground beneath her exploded—there was no better word for it—sending clouds of mud and foam billowing forth in the water. Kiri let the shockwave carry her, bobbing like a cork on the expanding mass of bubbles until it catapulted her into the air. At the apex of her jump, some ten, fifteen feet above the surface, she twisted gracefully against the newest addition to the holographic surroundings: a veritable city of gleaming marble and polished tile, dotted with verdant gardens that hung from its heights—before diving back into the water with scarcely a splash.

Yū couldn’t help it—he clapped. He could appreciate a good show as much as anyone. Nor was he alone: Kaede and Kiko were grinning excitedly. It was hard to tell which of the girls was more starry-eyed.

“Trap Card, open: Burgesstoma Marrella!” Jong called out just then; a moment later, one of the cards she’d Set had revealed itself. “By activating this card, I can send a Trap Card to my Graveyard!” Which was exactly what she did a moment after that, ejecting a card from her Duel Disk and slipping it into a different slot.

Kiri didn’t seem to have heard her—let alone to have cared. “Now, by discarding a WATER-Attribute monster,” she cried, plucking a single card from her hand even as she dived straight down, “I can Special Summon this from my hand! From the depths, I call forth Mermail – Dinichabyss!”

She leveled off, bare inches from the bottom of the sea—which exploded again behind her seconds later. It was not as big as before—but the source of the eruption, while far more mobile than an entire city, was huge in its own right. Twelve feet tall, with pea-green skin and silver-blue plate armor, the half-man, half-fish Dinichabyss had surged onto the field, just ahead of its Summoner. The blade of the blood-red spear it brandished at Jong was almost as long as Kiri was tall (Level 7: ATK 1700/DEF 2400).

But almost from the moment it had appeared, the point gauge above the shark-like horror now read 1900/2600—causing Kiri to smirk even wider. “Lemuria’s effect gives every WATER-Attribute monster on the field an extra 200 ATK and DEF!” she told Jong.

Yū frowned—had he seen things just now, or had Jong smiled at this, too? But as quickly as he’d thought he’d seen it, the would-be smile was nowhere to be found.

Kiri, for her part, hadn’t picked up on this either—she was too far in her element to be thinking of anything else. “Dinichabyss’ effect lets me add a Level 4 or lower Mermail monster from my Deck to my hand if I’ve Summoned it by using its own conditions!” she explained, swiping the card that had just jutted out from her Deck. “Now, I’ll activate Lemuria’s second effect—for each WATER-Attribute monster I control, those monsters gain 1 Level until the End Phase! Since Dinichabyss is the only such monster on my field, that means it’s now a Level 8!”

She waited until the point gauge that had just appeared above her monster had changed to reflect this—before suddenly angling her body in a slow ascent. “Now I’ll Normal Summon the monster Dinichabyss’ effect added to my hand! C’mon out, Mermail – Oceabyss!”

As if caught by a sudden ray of sunlight, the water beside the Blue Sea Duelist began to shimmer. Then, almost as quickly, it had bloomed into her freshly Summoned monster: a mermaid with long blonde hair, swimming neck-and-neck with Kiri and even more gracefully—this despite the teal-and-grayish-blue armor that plated her translucent fins, almost wing-like in their expanse, and the shining scales that covered her tail (Level 3: ATK 1100 » 1300/DEF 1900 » 2100).

With a quick snap roll that tossed her golden hair, Oceabyss now drifted into Kiri’s wake—directly in between the lumbering Dinichabyss and the Duelist who had Summoned them both. “Oceabyss’ effect!” Kiri hollered. “I can target a monster I control, send it to the Graveyard, and Special Summon Mermail monsters from my Deck whose total Levels are less than or equal to that monster! So I’ll target my Dinichabyss, and Special Summon—”

She was swimming higher and higher, faster and faster … she was going to break the surface for another flip, Yū realized. He held his breath as Kiri shot straight up like a bullet—

At the exact moment she broke the water, Oceabyss lunged forward with a burst of speed. The two mermaids broke the surface with a colossal splash—much too big, Yū thought, to have been caused by just two people. Then, a second later, he noticed the sparkling dust that had been sent in every direction by that splash: the last remnants, he guessed, of Kiri’s Dinichabyss. A second after that, he noticed two more figures that hadn’t been there before—more half-fish people like Oceabyss, but more than bulky enough that he instantly knew they were half-man, not half-woman.

“—not one, but two Mermail – Abysslungs in Attack Position!” Kiri howled from above, having slipped back into the water from her aerial, to much applause from Kiko and Kaede. Her freshly Summoned monsters flanked her from slightly behind and either side. Thick black-and-gold shields, strapped to either arm of each Abysslung, cut through the water at speeds that belied their owners’ bulk, while powerfully muscled tails of black scale propelled the mermen at breakneck speed (Level 4: ATK 1200 » 1400/DEF 1800 » 2000).

“Abysslung’s effect!” Kiri was leveling off again, heading straight for Jong. “While it’s on the field, my WATER monsters gain 300 ATK—but more than that, you can’t target any other monsters for attacks!” Both burly fish-men, as if wanting to show off this newfound strength, flexed their arms and clutched their shields even tighter.

Kurokōri’s eyes were wide. “She’s made the perfect defense,” he whispered, close enough for Yū to hear. Possibly he’d seen his confusion, because he added, “Even one Abysslung will redirect any attack Jong will make to any other monster on the field. But since she has two, any attacks are going to be redirected ad infinitum.”

Now Yū’s eyes had widened; he understood. “An attack lock … ” Two Abysslungs on the field meant that Jong couldn’t make any attacks at all—not until at least one of those Abysslungs was out of the way. They were still vulnerable to card effects, he knew—and it was also possible that Kiri might attempt an Xyz Summon with them, since their Levels were the same, but with defensive effects that powerful …

He gazed with fascination at Kiri’s field: both Abysslungs, their ATK now at a solid 2000, swimming protectively around Kiri; her Oceabyss, still streaking out in front with a newly altered ATK of 1900. No, he decided; Kiri wasn’t going to Xyz Summon just yet. Those Abysslungs were too crucial for the field she was trying to build up—and besides, Yū had a feeling there was still more to her turn to come.

“Now, I’ll discard the Mermail – Nereiabyss in my hand to activate its effect!” Kiri and her holographic entourage streaked by Jong at speeds that nearly sent the Korean spinning in their wake. “By doing that, I can target a monster I control, destroy 1 other monster in my hand or on my field, and make that target gain the ATK and DEF of the monster I destroyed! So I’ll target my Oceabyss, and destroy the Mermail – Abysshilde in my hand!”

She plucked two cards from her hand. Oceabyss, ahead of her, began to spin round and round like the most graceful drill in the seven seas. Then, without warning, the mermaid monster had peeled off, rushing straight for the surface once more with more speed than ever. It broke the water, splashing digital sea-foam every which way—and from that foam, the shades of two other mermaids—one, a white-haired beauty in sleek, grayish-black armor; the other, a younger, teenage-looking figure in dark red armor with red hair tied back in a ponytail that coiled along her body like a whip (Level 3: ATK 1300/DEF 400)—sprang into view, before dissolving just as quickly into digital dust.

Oceabyss had leaped a full twenty feet into the air, twisting so nimbly that it seemed as if even the laws of gravity had abandoned their duties to watch the spectacle Kiri was putting on. By the time the mermaid had slipped back into the water, its point gauge now read an impressive 3200/2500—by far the strongest Level 3 Yū had seen in his Dueling career.

But Kiri, it seemed, still wasn’t done. “Abysshilde’s effect activates when it’s sent to the Graveyard for any reason,” she crowed, “and lets me Special Summon another Mermail monster from my hand! So c’mon out and shine, Mermail – Abyssdine!”

The bubbles that Oceabyss had left behind from its reentry into the water now began to swirl in her wake. From this aquatic tunnel surged yet another mermaid, smaller and younger than any Kiri had yet Summoned (Level 3: ATK 1000 » 1200 » 1800/DEF 200 » 400). In fact, Abyssdine was almost a double for the Blue Sea Duelist herself, down to the pink hair and the slender build, though with a much shorter, stubbier tail.

“Abyssdine’s effect activates if it’s Special Summoned by a Mermail monster’s effect,” Kiri said, “and lets me revive another Level 3 or lower Mermail monster in my Graveyard! So I’ll bring back the same Mermail – Abyssgunde I discarded to Special Summon Dinichabyss, when I started this turn! C’mon out!”

She put on a surge of speed, streaking through the water like a knifeblade. Yū, having long since given up on wondering how a human being could achieve velocities in water that most couldn’t even achieve on land, watched raptly as still another mermaid joined the veritable flotilla around the Blue Sea Duelist. This one was much more vibrant in color than her companions; Abyssgunde’s fins and tail were a fiery orange, which—combined with the bands of silver-and-black armor encircling her body—gave her the odd appearance of a clownfish charging into battle (Level 3: ATK 1400 » 1600 » 2200/DEF 800 » 1000).

Kiri now had the maximum of five monsters on her field, Yū knew—and every one of them was swimming in formation alongside her. Both Abysslungs had drifted behind and either side of the Blue Sea Duelist, while her three mermaids—Abyssdine, Oceabyss, and Abyssgunde—were left, right, and center of her. Yū had a distinct impression that if he were to see the spectacle from above, this formation would look exactly like the five points of a star.

The LDS Duelist smiled. He knew what was coming next—and almost as if Kiri had read his mind, she and her Abysslungs suddenly peeled off from the pack, leaving the trio of mermaids to surge on ahead.

“And now, Miss Jong,” Kiri grinned, “I’m going to show you just how thoroughly the Blue Sea Duel School has mastered aquatic Dueling! Watch now, as I use my Level 3 Abyssdine, Oceabyss, and Abyssgunde … to construct the Overlay Network!”

All three mermaids swam low—inches-from-the-sea-bed low—at speeds faster than anything Yū had seen in the water. They were swimming so quick, in fact, that when they began to turn and twist in time with each other, ascending towards the surface once more, they were nothing so much as faintly glowing streaks of blue light, carving through the water like some enormous drill:

“O graceful queen! Emerge from the depths, and strike awe into all that oppose your domain!”

WHOOSH.

A kaleidoscopic galaxy of color had bloomed on the surface of the hard-light lake—at the precise moment all three blue streaks of mermaids had broken the water. But in the enormous column of sea foam this had formed, those streaks of mermaids were nowhere to be seen—nowhere, that is, save for the trio of blue lights rising higher and higher into the air, flirting with the topmost heights of the water-flower caused by Kiri’s Summon.

Then that column was dispelled, retreating back into the water from whence it came. In its place was a graceful figure soaring a full dozen feet into the air—and rising higher still in defiance of all laws of gravity—

“Xyz Summon!” Kiri chanted. “Rise up! Rank 3! Mermail – Abysstrite!”

Yū felt his breath catch in his throat in spite of himself; Abysstrite was one of the most stunningly beautiful monsters he’d ever seen. Even from fifteen, twenty feet above him, he could make out the vivid purple of the mermaid’s curly hair, and the thin lines of deep, pure gold that curved along its equally violet armor (Rank 3: ATK 1600 » 1800 » 2400/DEF 2800 » 3000/ORU 3). Droplets of water, caught in the sun’s rays, dripped off her dark gray tail like diamonds made liquid, making it appear as though she was surrounded by her own personal star-filled sky.

Kiko and Kaede looked as though they had quite a few shining stars of their own filling their eyes; so entranced with Kiri’s newest monster were they that nothing else seemed to register in their minds. It even seemed to Yū as though Abysstrite welcomed the attention; the Duel Monster had hit the water with barely a ripple, and now twisted lazily in the water, letting the sun reflect off her glistening skin. Both burly Abysslungs swam around Abysstrite like bodyguards—and in almost as tight of a circle as the trio of Overlay Units that orbited her.

“That’s three monsters against four face-down cards—none of which are monsters, I can’t help but notice,” Kiri snickered, looking at Jong upside down. “And because of my Abysstrite, they still won’t do any good against you even if they were, Jong.” She gestured to her monster. “Her effect lets me detach an Overlay Unit any time one of my Mermails would be targeted by a card effect, and forces that effect to target her instead! Which means my Abysslungs are safe, and you still won’t be able to attack me.

“And it gets better.” Kiri swam into an upright position. “Because Kurokōri was right about what I was doing—I spent the first few moments of our Duel marking where each and every Action Card landed when this field was activated. So I know exactly what’s where—and I know exactly where to swim to get exactly the card I need.” She smirked. “As far as you’re concerned, Jong, I’m as good as invincible—which means this Duel’s as good as mine!”

She spared enough time for one last twirl below her monsters—and then she was all business. “So—Battle Phase!” she crowed, stabbing out with her finger at Jong. “Mermail Abysslung! Attack Jong’s Life Points directly!”

Scarcely had the last word fallen from her lips when the Abysslung to Kiri’s left charged forward like a cannonball, its shield-gauntlets hefted in a ramming pose—

Yū wasn’t quite sure what happened next. All he could tell was that one moment, Jong had activated some kind of Trap. At the same time, Abysslung had lifted one of its muscled arms to give the Korean Duelist a devastating right hook. The next moment, that right hook had lashed out—only to stop a few inches from his defenseless enemy. But the punch had generated a compression wave intense enough to send Jong skidding back a few meters, gritting her teeth. Her Life Points had dipped to 3400, and she was bloodied from the force that that water had exerted on her, but she was still standing—

Wait. Yū checked the gauge again. 3400?!

Kiri had noticed, too—but was much more vocal in her confusion. “What the—?” Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, making her look like more of a fish than her mermaid costume would normally have allowed. “But—what happened to my direct attack?!” she finally spluttered. “You should only have 2000 Life Points after that hit!”

Jong’s only response to this was to smile—which only made Kiri grit her teeth. “It must’ve been one of those cards you Set on your first turn,” the Blue Sea Duelist said—but her consternation didn’t last long. “That’s only good once, though—and I’ve still got more than enough firepower to finish you off this turn. Go, Abysslung!” she ordered, and the hulking merman to her right lunged forward, drawing back for another punch—

But again, the monster seemed to throw that punch too early, stopping scant inches from Jong’s nose. Again, the shockwave of water expanded, buffeting the Korean, sending her hair flying backward and sending her LP gauge to 2800—

Yū bit his lip—there it was again. What's going on here? He decided to check the replay on his Duel Disk—slow motion, he decided, just to be sure.

Nearby, Maki Kiko was watching the sudden turn of events with a calculating look on her face. Her left hand was fidgeting with the exposed innards of her fake right hand at top speed, and she was thinking out loud.

“That’s another six hundred Life Points lost,” she was heard to mutter, “where it should’ve been two thousand … ” She blinked in sudden realization. “Miss Jong must have Summoned something right before Kiri attacked,” she blurted out. “Something with exactly 1400 ATK! There’s no other way she could’ve altered that battle damage!”

Water is an excellent conductor of sound; it travels faster and for longer distances than it otherwise would in air. Not that the human ear can tell; it is made to hear in air, rather than water, and so cannot clearly pick up noises underwater. However, since most of the Solid Vision composing the Duel arena was only mimicking water, and not actually water at all, it meant that Jong heard every word Kiko had spoken—even from the distance between them.

“You’re a quick study,” she said, without turning round to look at Kiko. “Most Duelists need more than one turn to figure out my Deck. By then,” she glanced at Kiri, still smiling softly, “it’s usually too late.”

The Korean tapped at her Duel Disk. “Here’s what did it—the Trap Card: Divine Protection of the Sea Dragon,” she explained. “Until the End Phase, no Level 3 or lower WATER-Attribute monster on my field can be destroyed by battle or by card effects.”

Kiri only looked more dazed at this revelation than before. “ … I’m still not getting it,” she said. “How’d that stop both my Abysslungs from pounding you into next week?! You don’t have any monsters on your field!”

Jong’s smile grew wider. “I didn’t until I activated that card,” she replied. “Remember that Burgesstoma Marrella I used at the start of your turn? I used its effect to send the Trap Card: Burgesstoma Pikaia from my Deck to the Graveyard. Both of these cards have a second effect—one shared by every Burgesstoma card in my Deck, as it happens. If it’s in my Graveyard when a Trap is activated—no matter whose Trap it is—I can Special Summon it to my field as a Normal Monster!”

“Say what?!”

It was hard to tell if Kaede or Kiko was the more shocked of the two. Both girls looked as though each Abysslung on the field had punched them instead. Yūrei had rounded on Roşu, incredulous. The Romanian had the faintest of smirks lining his lips—the first real emotion he’d shown today.

Kurokōri, however, had figured it out first, and snapped his fingers when he did. “Trap monsters,” he mused out loud. “Cards that count as either monsters or Trap Cards. I’ve even heard of some that can do both.” He nodded in apparent approval. “Reminds me a bit of Yūto’s Deck.”

But Yū was only half listening at this point; he’d been marginally slower to the punch than Kurokōri, owing to the instant replay he’d been analyzing. Kiko had only confirmed what he’d suspected in the first place: that Miss Jong had quickly Summoned a monster to protect her Life Points from Kiri’s far superior field.

The trouble had been finding out what exactly had been Summoned and how. Yū already knew that Burgesstoma Marrella had sent a Trap Card from Jong’s Deck to the Graveyard—one Burgesstoma Leanchoilia, according to the replay—and then had been sent to the Graveyard itself after it had resolved. That made two Trap Cards—and then, there had been Jong’s Divine Protection. When that was activated, the Summoning conditions for the Traps that were already in her Graveyard had been fulfilled, and she’d then Special Summoned Marrella in Attack Position (Level 2: ATK 1200 » 1400/DEF 0 » 200). From there, it had been treated as a Normal Monster, as Jong had said—but what she hadn’t said was that Marrella was also a WATER-Attribute monster as well, which meant that its ATK and DEF had been boosted by Kiri’s own Field Spell. What was more, it also had a low enough Level that her Divine Protection shielded it from being punched into a fine mist.

Not bad, Yū thought to himself. Not bad at all.

Kiri blinked, completely thrown out of character. “So all of these … Burga-whatever cards … they can become monsters, too?”

“Maj-a,” Jong nodded, looking exceptionally pleased with how she’d avoided certain defeat. “What’s more, they become completely immune to monster effects when they’re Special Summoned by their own procedure. Soljighi malhaeseo, geu suchiida,” she shrugged as Kiri gawked at this news. “It would have meant that they’d had the same ATK as your Abysslungs when they attacked me—which would’ve meant they’d have been destroyed along with my Burgesstomas. That power boost they grant doesn’t just affect your monsters, after all.”

The Blue Sea Duelist cringed at the thought of that mental image, and she immediately resolved to never attack so quickly again. “There is another tradeoff,” Jong went on. “I have to banish my Burgesstomas if they ever leave the field as monsters. But, well … that’s not a problem for me,” she smiled. “I have ways around that, too.”

But several questions still lingered within Kiri’s mind, and she wasn’t sure which of them she wanted answered first. “This is one of the weirdest Decks I’ve ever Dueled against,” she murmured to herself—it seemed as though all of Miss Jong’s boasting hadn’t just been talk.

Then, loudly enough that Jong could hear, “Why didn’t I see them?”

“Hm?”

“I should’ve seen at least a hint of a monster if one was Special Summoned,” Kiri said, “even for a second. I had my eye on you the whole time, and I didn’t see any monsters at all. Not one.” She crossed her arms. “Why?”

Jong smiled again, wider than ever, and enough that the Mermaid Duelist could see a hint of perfect teeth behind the Korean’s lips. “And there it is. That’s what sets me apart from you, Kiri,” she said pleasantly. “For a Duelist who likes the sea so much, I thought you’d be just as appreciative of its history as much as its mystique and mythology.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiri’s reply was laced with a touch of defiance.

“My Burgesstoma Deck is based on some of the oldest animals on the planet,” Jong smirked. “They lived, thrived, and died out hundreds of millions of years before our species was advanced enough to even believe in things like myths and gods. They were incredibly small, too—even the apex predator of those primeval times wasn’t much bigger than a skateboard. Most of the rest were almost impossible to see—unless they were right before your eyes.”

The way she’d emphasized those words made Kiri think of what her twin Abysslungs had done in the midst of their attack: they’d stopped their fists bare inches from the Korean—as if something had been blocking their way.

She shivered. I definitely underestimated this girl, she thought. I can’t let her throw me off like that again.

In time, the more analytical parts of her brain had reasserted themselves, and she soon realized that Miss Jong still had two more Set cards on her field. Could they be more of those Burgesstoma Traps? Kiri wondered.

The Blue Sea Duelist pursed her lips. Or would she save it for when she began her turn, and somehow take the offensive? If that was true, Kiri decided, then the best thing to do would be to widen the advantages she already possessed. The Korean, after all, had Special Summoned her monster in Attack Position—and as far as Kiri was concerned, that meant she’d made a critical blunder.

There was only one course of action to take—and so: “Mermail – Abysstrite!” Kiri crowed. “Wherever this Burgesstoma Marrella is, attack it! Attack every drop of water in the sea if you have to!”

She brandished a finger at Jong—“Dancing Riptide Slice!”—and at once, the mermaid-monster shot for her target like a bullet from a gun. She drilled through the water at a speed that rivaled most cars, missing the Korean by narrow inches—but deliberately; the wake she’d generated buffeted Jong as though she’d been caught in a hurricane—

“Trap Card, open: Burgesstoma Pikaia! By discarding a Burgesstoma card, I can draw two cards to replace it!”

This time, Kiri saw it before she heard it. Jong had activated another one of her Traps, and in the nick of time: Abysstrite’s next pass had nearly clipped several black hairs from her scalp, so close had she passed over her head. Jong was only just able to remain upright, but the mermaid’s momentum spun her round in a full circle—and by the time she’d recovered, the Abysstrite was already speeding for her again—

Wait. Kiri began to think. Another Trap Card had been activated—and there was still another Burgesstoma Trap Card besides that one in Jong’s Graveyard. If it had the same effect as the two she’d activated before that … She checked her Duel Disk, and grinned. Her theory had proven correct; another monster had indeed shown up on Jong’s Duel Disk—something called Burgesstoma Leanchoilia (Level 2: ATK 1200 » 1400/DEF 0 » 200); and likely as not something else that was so small she couldn’t even see it. But Kiri didn’t care—since she now knew the number of monsters on Jong’s field had changed, Abysstrite’s attack could be redone; all of her aquatic acrobatics had done nothing more than rough up a particularly vexing Korean.

And so, quicker than it took for her to entertain the thought, the Blue Sea Duelist took off on a tear of her own, swimming through the digital sea at breakneck speed until she saw what she was looking for: a gleam of pure white, winking at her from underneath one of the pillars that formed the Atlantis Field Spell. She’d kept her eye on this particular spot ever since the Duel had started, and was thrilled that her find would come in handy here.

“Action Magic: Star Boost!” she cried, swiping the card over her Duel Disk. “I can boost the ATK of any monster I control by 100 times the total Levels or Ranks of every Extra Deck monster my opponent controls! And while I know even you haven’t done that,” Kiri added with a glare, “I also know that you just made a big mistake, Miss Jong! Because I can also use Star Boost to make my chosen monster attack all of your monsters once each! Go, Abysstrite! Attack Marrella and Leanchoilia!”

WHOOSH. And the mermaid’s onslaught began anew: Jong was flipped upside down by the sheer current, unable to react in time—and then once more, twice more, again and again, Abysstrite continued to shear through the hard-light ocean, carrying scores of Action Cards in her wake, until it looked as if Jong was nothing more than a squirming speck inside a cage of twisting water.

While this was happening, Kiri had sped off behind, beneath and to her left, amidst a particularly overgrown set of ruins that nestled an Action Card. She snaked through them, wholly in her element, and even loop-the-looped around her final destination before she snatched the card up in her hands, and carved upwards until she broke the surface with a splash. Kiri allowed herself a crucial second to strike a pose for her audience—and then, all too quickly, she was back in the water, leveling off against the ground and back to her original position.

By now, Abysstrite had finished with Jong; the LP gauge above the Korean Duelist had drained to a dangerous 800, and she looked shaken by the double attack she’d weathered. Perhaps it had taken Kiri’s final attack to realize her own error; in any case, Jong pushed off from the ocean floor and clambered to solid ground, breathing deeply.

That’ll teach you to get cocky around me, Kiri thought smugly, before playing her last card. “Action Magic: Quick Guard!” she shouted, revealing it to Jong with a smirk. “With this, I can target any Attack Position monster on the field, and switch it to face-up Defense Position! I target my Abysstrite!”

She felt her hair whirl in the water—the only sign that her monster had swum past her, breaking the surface one last time for one last eye-popping aerial—and then whirling back to Kiri’s side with nary a sound, putting as much of her tail as she could between her and Miss Jong.

Between Abysstrite and her pair of Abysslungs, Kiri had never felt safer. “Turn end,” she smirked at Jong, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

One of the things Yū appreciated about Duel Monsters was that sometimes it wasn’t about Summoning one monster that could change the course of the game—it was about Summoning multiple monsters that cooperated with each other, their effects combining to form an insurmountable, nigh-unbreakable field in ways no physical strength could. And the way Kiri had ended her turn was one of the finest examples of such an ending board he’d seen in a while.

It was something he sadly wished he could see more often. The game wasn’t called Duel Monster, after all.

Kurokōri apparently shared his thoughts. “That’s a pretty solid wall Kiri’s got there,” he remarked, staring intently at all 3000 DEF of Abysstrite, and the twin 2000-ATK Abysslungs that flanked her defiantly. “No matter how long I look, I can’t think of any way an Xyz Duelist can break through that with just four cards—and I’m counting the one Jong is about to draw next turn. It’d take a level of card draw and hand advantage that no one card in the game has.”

“Let’s say Jong can do it, though,” Yū replied. Biased he might sound, but Jong was a fellow LDS student, and he wanted her to win as any good classmate would. “What’s the weak link in the chain Kiri’s put together?”

Kurokōri thought. “It sounds weird to say it,” he eventually said, “but I think it might be Abysstrite. Remember that both of her Abysslungs’ effects are continuous. Which means there’s no way to get around them, short of actually negating their effects—but Abysstrite’s effect to focus those card effects on herself is reliant on how many Overlay Units she has. So if Jong focuses on depleting those Units, like Kaede tried to do with Kiko’s monster in their Duel, she might just have a chance.”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Yū motioned back to the Duel—Jong had just drawn her card. Here we go …

Chapter Text

IX

The Korean Duelist had barely even looked at the new card in her hand before she’d acted. “Final Trap Card: open: Planck Scale!” she cried. “For the rest of this turn, all Rank 4 or higher monsters cannot attack, but all monsters of Rank 3 or lower gain 500 ATK and DEF!”

Something happened to the Action Field at that point: even as Kiri looked on in shock, the ruins of Atlantis and Lemuria alike were blurring, like chalk drawings washed out by a sudden rainstorm. The consistency of the water had changed as well; much to Kiri’s irritation, it felt as though she’d suddenly been submerged in dark, viscous tar. Though Abysstrite had benefited from Jong’s last Trap, as evidenced by the point gauge of 2700/3300 hovering above her head, this seemed almost a passing thought for a girl who loved swimming as much as she did—yet, all of a sudden, took all of her effort to even move a foot in the water.

“You might have noticed that everything seems a bit bigger around you,” Jong smirked. “And that’s your mistake, Kiri. I can tell that you have a bright future ahead—that you’ve got a lot of big plans for your life, just like me. But sometimes, thinking big requires thinking small—to put yourself under a microscope, and look at every detail about who you are and what you’ve done, before you take the plunge into following your dreams. That’s what ends up bogging down so many young minds like yours; their eyes get so dazzled by the destination that they don’t learn from the journey. And that’s exactly why I’m going to win this Duel right now! Geunyang bwa!”

She threw out her hand. “Planck Scale’s activation means I can Special Summon any one of my Burgesstoma Traps that were in my Graveyard at the time as a Normal Monster, thanks to their effects—and banish them if they leave the field!” cried the Korean. “So I’ll Special Summon my Burgesstoma Pikaia to join my Marrella and my Leanchoilia! Natanada!”

This time, the Blue Sea Duelist was able to see the monsters Jong had Summoned; Planck Scale must have distorted their surroundings such that it appeared as if both Duelists had been shrunk to a mere inch in height—if even that. The seven-foot-long, eel-like dragon that swam through the Solid Vision water looked much more menacing for that reason (Level 2: ATK 1200 » 1400/DEF 0 » 200). The same held true for the skeletal, manta-like monster as long and wide as her bedroom rug, which she took to be Marrella, and the bed-sized cross between a pill bug and a shrimp with too many legs on the bottom and way too many squirmy things around its mouth.

Kiri took one look at Jong’s field and promptly decided that she could do with a little less seafood in her diet. Nothing like some distant relatives to put you off eating meat, she thought. Some very, very distant relatives …

Jong walked among her monsters, her own movements slow and deliberate, but all the more gracefully for it. “Since my Trap Cards are now monsters,” she told Kiri, stroking Pikaia’s head like a faithful horse, “that means I can use them to construct the Overlay Network—and I’ll do just that with Marrella and Leanchoilia! Eoseo!”

Without warning, the tentacles of Marrella surged for Leanchoilia, wrapping round its bulk before Kiri could even process what had happened. Then, mere moments later, the entwined monsters had erupted with vivid blue energy, surging out from every pore and enveloping them inside a rapidly growing sphere:

“In the infancy of our planet, there dwelt a creature no human eye has ever seen—until today!”

Suddenly, the Mermaid Duelist was engulfed in an invisible wall of thickened water that had come from directly behind her, right out of nowhere. Something twinkled as it raced past her—an Action Card—and almost before she was aware of thinking it ought to be between her fingers, she’d reached out and caught it just in time—

“Xyz Summon!” chanted Jong. “Mulgwa sigan-ui sim-yeon-eseo deungjang! Rank 2! Burgesstoma Opabinia!”

The sphere of water before her bloomed with a deep, muted WHOOSH. Kiri’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of a creature so alien—there was no other word for it—that no god of any mythology would have willingly created such an animal. Five blank green eyes stared unblinkingly at her from the midst of a shrimp-like body almost ten feet long and five more wide, two heavy claws that snapped menacingly at her—and a five-foot-long mouth like an inside-out umbrella, ringed with ripping fangs as long as her whole arm, that continuously gulped water as if doing so would bring Kiri that much closer to being swallowed alive and whole (Rank 2: ATK 0 » 700/DEF 2400 » 3100; ORU 2).

She shivered again—she was getting the strange feeling this Duel had taken an even sharper turn for the bizarre.

That was before Jong drifted over to Opabinia, mounting the beast behind its neck like some extraterrestrial steed. “If this were real life,” she told Kiri, spurring the monster to gain a small sliver of altitude, “this monster could fit in the palm of my hand. I’d look a little silly trying to ride something that tiny in an Action Duel, don’t you think?”

She laughed, not waiting for an answer. “But in this place, Kiri, looks don’t matter. We’re stepped into a world the human eye can’t even see. There’s no big picture to be found here—right now, you and I are as unimportant as the average trilobite is to Kaede. It’s only when we look at the details that this fantastic world suddenly takes shape.”

With a kick of her heels, she and Opabinia took off through the water, its thick body achieving effortlessly what Kiri suddenly could not. “Opabinia’s effect makes it immune to all other monster effects,” Jong explained, circling the Mermaid Duelist, “and also lets me activate Burgesstoma Traps from my hand—like this Burgesstoma Olenoides, which lets me target any one Spell or Trap on the field and destroy it! And since my Traps don’t count as Traps in monster form,” she smirked, watching something like an armored skate—or maybe a manta ray? Kiri wondered—flicker into view before diving beneath them, disappearing from sight before it could vanish from existence, “that means there’s only one card on the field that I can target!”

Oh, no! Realization had hit her too late—there was no time for the Blue Sea Duelist to find an Action Card; she had just realized what Jong was planning to do before she actually did it. Kiri didn’t see it happen, of course—but she felt the compression waves buffeting her body, and knew they could only come from her Forgotten Capital Lemuria being reduced to rubble, tumbling helplessly into the bottomless sea.

Abysstrite and her Abysslungs looked around in confusion, and it was easy for Kiri to understand why: the ATK and DEF boosts that Lemuria had conferred on her monsters were nowhere to be seen. The knowledge that Opabinia had lost its own increased strength from her own Field was no comfort; Kiri needed Lemuria to ease her way into Xyz Summoning her strongest monsters, and she was well aware that this was a serious blow to her strategy.

The Blue Sea Duelist was beginning to feel cold in a way that had nothing to do with the smothering water around her.

Jong seemed to feed off her growing fear; with every inch that Kiri’s grin slid off her face, the Korean’s own smile grew that much wider. “And since a Trap Card was activated while the Canadia I discarded for my Pikaia’s effect was in my Graveyard,” she was saying, “I can use its effect to Special Summon it to my field now!” And before the Mermaid Duelist could blink, a wormlike, multi-finned monster had surged from the black depths to join her Pikaia (Level 2: ATK 1200/DEF 0).

“But I’m not even close to done!” Jong threw out her hand, and held it aloft. “Watch now, as I use my Level 2 Canadia and Pikaia to construct the Overlay Network once more!”

Uh-oh. Kiri saw each prehistoric abomination shimmer with bluish-purple light, and felt her life flash before her eyes with each glowing ball that rose above her, disappearing into nothingness within the abyss above her:

“I now call forth the apex predator of a long-gone age,” Jong cried, “unmatched by any creature of its time!”

Xyz Summon! Mulgwa sigan-ui sim-yeon-eseo deungjang! Rank 2! Burgesstoma Anomalocaris!”

Kiri stared upward into the abyss—and suddenly, right as the truth hit her like a wall of water, the abyss stared back.

What she had taken to be an endless, lightless expanse of black water was the underbelly of a creature so massive that the only equivalent her mind could conjure was that of a majestic blue whale—but there was nothing majestic about the horror that descended onto the field like something from the end times. Two gigantic clawed mandibles, each more than thick enough to crush her dad’s car and chew the scrap metal, unrolled with a reverberating cry; huge compound eyes shone with base hunger at the specks of Duel Monsters before it, and enormous fins undulated slowly through the water, holding its bluish-purple bulk aloft (Rank 2: ATK 2400 » 2900/DEF 0 » 500; ORU 3).

She felt her knees knocking inside the tail of her costume. I need to find an Action Card now.

But Jong seemed inexorable, interminable. Even as Kiri quite literally turned tail and darted all over the field in her search, she was not wasting any time. “Burgesstoma Opabinia’s second effect! Once per turn, if even a single one of its Overlay Units is a Trap Card, I can detach one of them to add a Burgesstoma Trap from my Deck to my hand! I detach the Leanchoilia I used to Summon it—and since cards that get detached as Overlay Units don’t count as leaving the field,” she grinned, “my Leanchoilia won’t banish itself!”

She snapped her fingers, and one of the bluish-purple orbs that had been orbiting her monstrous mount winked out of existence. By the time its light had faded into the dark water: “I add Burgesstoma Eldonia to my hand, and then use my Opabinia’s effect to activate it directly from my hand! Now I can target a monster on the field, and make it gain 500 ATK and DEF until the end of the turn! I target my Anomalocaris!”

Kiri didn’t need to turn around—not that she wanted to. She heard the low, bone-throbbing roar from the leviathan above her, and tried not to think what a gauge of 3400/1000 was capable of doing to a Rank 2. And it lets her Summon yet another one of those Traps, too, she thought scathingly. The one upside was that, by now, she was beginning to see a pattern to what Jong activated and what she Summoned as a result. This helped her recognize the wide, flat creature she’d seen once before to be Olenoides, even before it had finished materializing on Jong’s field, and well before Jong herself had announced it for all to hear (Level 2: ATK 1200/DEF 0).

Jong swiped another card against her blade. “Trap activate: Burgesstoma Dinomischus! By activating this card, I can target any face-up card on the field, discard a card, and banish that target! And I have to admit,” she added with a sinister smirk, watching the color drain from Kiri’s face, “those Abysslungs of yours look far too enticing to pass up … so I think I’ll target one of them, and break your attack lock!”

But the Mermaid Duelist—anxious to do something in the midst of the veritable train of Special Summons Miss Jong was conducting—was already moving. “Not while I’ve still got Abysstrite, you won’t!” she crowed. “I activate her effect, and detach an Overlay Unit to make your Dinomischus’ effect target her instead! Aqua Refraction!”

Abysstrite whirled her trident through the air, striking the ground with the tip of her golden weapon. The water distorted even further from the point of impact, enveloping the Xyz Monster and both her Abysslung guardians. From there, Kiri caught a brief afterimage of some luminescent, jellyfish-like monster rushing for her Abysslung—only to change course the moment it entered the bubble, and shift itself to target Abysstrite—

Now! “Action Magic: Shimmer!” she screamed, and the card she’d found earlier was slapped across her blade in one swift stroke. “I can negate any one card or effect that targets a monster I control! Your Dinomischus’ effect is history!”

No sooner had the last word dropped from her lips than Abysstrite’s sleek body seemed to glisten, even in the murky water. When it did, whatever bizarre creature Kiri had seen had passed straight through her monster, and faded from view as if it had never existed.

Jong, however, only smiled vaguely. “History's something I know very well,” she told Kiri. “And I know enough of it to know that you're only delaying the inevitable. Burgesstoma Eldonia’s second effect—I Special Summon it to my field as a Normal Monster! Furthermore”—she paused for just long enough to watch a strange, tree-like creature sprout from the darkness, quite out of nowhere (Level 2: ATK 1200/DEF 0)—“when I activated my Dinomischus, it triggered my Anomalocaris’ effect as well—once per turn, if a Trap Card is sent from my Spell and Trap Zone to the Graveyard, I can excavate the top card of my Deck, and add it to my hand if that card is a Trap!”

With one swift stroke, she drew the card—and grinned. “Wanbyeoghan. I’ll just Set that to my field, gamsa, gamsa—and now, I think it’s time for another Xyz Summon!” she crowed, swiping her added card face-down and signaling to her two Trap monsters. “So I’ll use my Level 2 Eldonia and Olenoides to construct the Overlay Network once more!”

Kiri skidded to a halt, terrified beyond belief. She knew what Jong was about to Summon next—she had just seen a second abyss hovering just beneath her—staring right at her—

“Xyz Summon!” shrieked Jong from behind her. “Rank 2! Burgesstoma Anomalocaris!”

And a second, equally primeval horror emerged from the darkness, below Kiri and her monsters (Rank 2: ATK 2400 » 2900/DEF 0 » 500; ORU 2). The Mermaid Duelist was so close to this Anomalocaris that she could have reached out to touch any one of its many dorsal spines. But the thought of touching a creature that might otherwise be the size of a skateboard felt incomprehensible to someone who felt fifty times smaller than normal.

There was one above her—a second above her—and Jong on her Opabinia, swimming right for her for all she knew.

She had nowhere to go.

“This is insane!” Kiko looked close to tearing out more of her hair as the turn dragged on. “Jong just won’t let up!”

“I don’t wanna fight LDS kids anymore … ” Kaede looked very green indeed; whether it was the true appearance of Jong’s monsters from such an up-close and personal view, or the fact that they too felt as if they had shrunk because of the Korean’s Planck Scale card, no one was sure.

“You guys really are on another level,” Yūrei muttered to Roşu.

The Romanian said nothing. His razor-thin smile said plenty.

Kiko shook her head. “This is painful to watch. I’ve got half a mind to stop this Duel—Kiri was doing so well, and here’s Miss Jong with Trap after Trap after Trap! I’d hate to see what the rest of her Deck could do!”

No one answered her. Roşu only smiled a tiny bit wider. Everyone else later agreed this was more unsettling than anything Jong had Summoned this Duel.

“Jigeum!  Trap activate: Dimension Slide!” Jong revealed her Set card with an alacrity that took Kiri aback. “If a monster is Summoned to my field, I can target any monster my opponent controls, and banish that target! What’s more”—her eyes glittered as she watched Kiri’s jaw drop in combined shock and confusion—“if that Summon was an Xyz Summon, I can activate that Trap the same turn I Set it! So I’ll target your Abysslung again!”

Kiri didn’t even think—with great difficulty, she executed a snap-roll that sent her diving downward through the thickened water, skirting so close to Anomalocaris that she could have threaded herself between any of its fins if she wanted. But showing off was no longer foremost in her mind—she needed the first Action Card she could find—

A telltale gleam caught her eye, and she put on a burst of speed. It was too late, however; the Mermaid Duelist heard a muted bellow from the Abysslung Jong had targeted. She looked back—and immediately wished she hadn’t; the sight of Jong’s latest Anomalocaris devouring it whole would haunt her dreams for a long time. She bit her lip, holding back a curse as she watched her remaining monsters’ ATK gauges adjust themselves to their detriment (2400 and 1500), but forced herself to continue on in short order—she was nearly there—

“Now for my second Anomalocaris’ effect!” Jong cried. “Once per turn, I can excavate the top card of my Deck, and add that card to my hand if it’s a Trap!” She did so—and in an instant, she was grinning wider than ever.

This did not escape Kiko’s notice. Her keen eyes had noted the short time it had taken for Jong to react to the card she’d drawn. Too short, her analytical mind had concluded.

Next to her, Kaede’s eyes were wide as side plates. “Don’t tell me she excavated another Trap?” she exclaimed. “How many more of those does she have in her Deck?!”

“That’s not why I’m worried,” Kiko told her. “She noticed it too quickly. That only makes me more certain there’s one of two things going on here. And either one of them means Miss Jong knew she was going to pull out a Trap.”

Yūrei frowned. “You don’t think she’s cheating, do you? I never have that kind of luck drawing my Trap Cards.”

But Kiko shook her head. “No LDS student would cheat—especially not for something this low-stakes. The only reason I brought it up was that the only other possible answer is … well,” she conceded, as she absentmindedly fiddled with the gears and cogs of her prosthetic, “it’s so ridiculous that I don’t know if I want to say it out loud.”

Jong had heard. “It’s fine, Kiko,” she said, softening her smirk a bit. “I don’t mind giving up that particular game right now. See, I can understand why you’re so suspicious—it’s not common for most Duelists to have more than a handful of Traps in their Deck, after all. In this day and age, speed is the name of the game—too many Traps will slow you down. But that’s what sets me apart from everyone else at LDS, and all their branches around the world.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Kiri.

“That that’s the answer,” laughed the Korean, “to your question from when we first started Dueling. That’s what’s so ‘super-secret’ about my Deck, as you put it: every single one of the forty cards it contains … every card in my Duel Disk, save those in my Extra Deck … is a Trap Card.”

Half a dozen jaws fell open in unison. Roşu was the sole exception; he merely maintained his own silent smirk. But no one else seemed to notice; they were too busy gawking at the Korean as though she’d just grown a second head.

“I—bu—wha—huh?!” Kaede was too shocked to even form words.

Kiko had abandoned the innards of her false hand. “All forty?!” she spluttered. “That … that’s just crazy!”

Yūrei looked as though his brain had blown a fuse. “How does that even work?!” he muttered vacantly, his gray eyes suddenly glassy.

Even Kurokōri seemed blindsided by this turn of events. Yū couldn’t blame him.  Conventional wisdom dictated that out of a standard Deck size of forty cards, roughly half of them ought to be monsters—with the remainder divided between Spells and a handful of Traps. He’d never gone up against a Deck that defied this wisdom so blatantly—in fact, the only Deck he knew to do this in all of Maiami City was the Superheavy Samurai of Gongenzaka Noboru.

“The madwoman … the absolute madwoman,” the Xyz Duelist breathed softly. He was shaking his head in abject disbelief. Yū had never seen him like this before—not even during their alleyway Duel last night. “The nerve of her—even Yūto never went that far in building his Deck!”

And suddenly he’d thrown back his head, laughing like a maniac and slapping his knee. “I love this girl’s style!” he bellowed raucously. “How can I not want her to win after this?”

No one, however, could compare their shock to Kiri’s. The Blue Sea Duelist bobbed there in the water, feeling even smaller than what Planck Scale’s effect had already done to her. Her quest for an Action Card was long forgotten.

“ … I can’t even call you out for that,” she managed to say, flatly and tonelessly. “You’re Dueling me with nothing but Trap Cards in your Deck. That is, without a doubt, the most audacious thing I’ve ever heard a Duelist say.”

“Dangsin-i mul-eossda,” quipped Jong. “It’s always a pleasant surprise to see someone with a radical take on Duel Monsters, isn’t it? It keeps the game fresh—keeps the Duelist guessing. I hope I Duel that big guy who goes to You Show one day,” she added, smiling at the prospect. “I’d love to pick his brain on how and why he puts his Deck together with nothing but monsters. I’ll freely admit my approach to Duel Monsters isn’t nearly as radical as his.”

And then she’d turned her almond eyes back on Kiri. “For now, though, I’m willing to settle with showing you how far my Deck can go without monsters,” she smirked. “I activate my Burgesstoma Anomalocaris’ second effect! If even one of its Overlay Units is a Trap Card, I can detach one of them, and target and destroy any one card on the field with it! And I’m going straight for your Abysstrite!”

Kiri saw Anomalocaris’ jaws yawn open before her Xyz Monster, and remembered just in time that she was this close to an Action Card. Quick as a flash, she darted for it, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt it brush the tips of her fingers moments later. That sigh turned into a whoop when she saw what that card was.

“Action Magic: Mirror Barrier!” cried the Mermaid Duelist, slapping it across her blade. “I can target a monster on the field, and keep it from being destroyed by card effects! Your monsters won’t be munching on my Abysstrite!”

There was just a hint of a bright shimmer racing across Abysstrite’s skin, expanding around her into a bright, mirror-polished bubble. Then Anomalocaris’ jaws closed around her—

—and stayed closed.

Kiri, who knew how interactive Solid Vision could be, needed a few seconds to realize something had gone horribly wrong. She hurriedly checked her Duel Disk. “I swear I played that card!” she shouted, feeling her voice reach a strangled yell. “I know it activated—I saw it happen!”

She heard a giggle, and rounded on the woman responsible. “What did you do, Jong?!” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing.” But the Korean sounded much too innocent. “Remember what I said just now—how my approach to Duel Monsters isn’t so radical as that You Show boy? Just because my Deck is nothing but Traps doesn’t mean I’m above using Spells—and Action Cards by proxy.”

She smirked. “Like the Action Magic: Crush Action I played just now.”

Kiri’s heart swooped—it felt like she’d just swum headlong into a wall. Crush Action was never a phrase any Duelist wanted to hear if they liked using Action Cards—or, as she had just now, had found the one that could have won her the Duel.

“How?” she could only say. “You haven’t been looking for nearly as many Action Cards as I have! I know where each of them is—I memorized each one when the Duel started!”

This only made the Korean smile wider. “Did your Abysstrite memorize them, too?”

Huh? The Blue Sea Duelist balked at the unexpected question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Remember when it attacked me, and brought me to the brink of defeat?” Jong asked. “Or more specifically, how?”

Kiri thought, replaying her monster’s Dancing Riptide Slice in her mind. Abysstrite had swum for Miss Jong from almost every direction that was possible. She never hit her, but always swam inches away from her at every angle she could—left, right, upwards and downwards, enclosing her in a cage of roiling, churning water from the multiple wakes she’d left behind—

It hit her like a second wall of water. “The wakes,” she breathed, clapping a hand to her forehead. “Of course! It’s basic fluid dynamics—they teach us that at Blue Sea! My Abysstrite was leaving behind a slipstream every time she attacked you! One of them must’ve caught that Crush Action in its wake—that’s how it ended up in your hands!”

“I wish I knew which one did it,” Jong shrugged, still smirking at Kiri’s frustration, “but if you did memorize where each card was, then you probably know the answer to that anyway. The only thing that matters is that your monster gave me my favorite Action Card to use. I don’t get to use Action Cards for the rest of the turn because of it—but, on the other hand, neither do you. What more could a girl who only uses Trap Cards in her Deck ask for?”

Kiri seethed. Her only saving grace was that Abysstrite could do more than protect the rest of her field from threats. What was more: “When you destroyed my Abysstrite,” she told Jong, “you activated her final effect: by targeting a Mermail monster in my Graveyard, I can Special Summon it! So I’ll Summon my Dinichabyss in Defense Position!”

The Mermaid Duelist felt the compression wave erupt below her: the result of an enormous body suddenly displacing an equal volume of water. Seconds later, that enormous body had surged to her side, putting as much of its bulk as possible between Kiri and the nearest Anomalocaris, and leveling its scarlet spear-point at it with a threatening growl (Level 7: ATK 1700 » 2000/DEF 2400).

Jong shook her head. “Now it’s you who’s just made a big mistake, Kiri. It doesn’t matter what monster you Summon to protect yourself—I still have another Anomalocaris on my field. One that has yet,” she grinned, “to use its second effect. But I’ll use it right now—I detach an Overlay Unit to destroy your Dinichabyss, and your final defense with it!”

And even before her primeval behemoth had lunged for Dinichabyss, sinking its fangs, or teeth—or whatever passed for either in its jaws—into its bulk, the Korean had plucked another Trap from her hand. “Finally, I activate Burgesstoma Hallucigenia! By targeting a face-up monster on the field, I can take its current ATK and DEF and cut it in half! I target your other Abysslung! Tteol-eojyeo!”

But Kiri was already gone; she raced upwards for the surface, streaking through the water as though she’d been fired from a gun. She knew full well that she was in grave trouble: her Abysslung might as well be just as extinct as the monsters it had been fighting, and she’d been sealed off from using every single Action Card whose location she’d committed to memory. Worse still, the increased viscosity of the water was slowing her down, and keeping her from accurately figuring out how far she had left to go. All thoughts of aerials and gymnastics and pretty mermaids had been left behind at the Duel site. The only thing the Blue Sea Duelist wanted to do now was get out of the water—to get away from the monsters she knew would be coming for her in seconds—

Then, at the edge of her hearing, she heard Jong. “Battle Phase! Burgesstoma Anomalocaris, attack Mermail Abysslung—and finish off your prey!”

Kiri put on a burst of speed—but she knew it was all in vain; another compression wave, far bigger than the others up until now, flipped her head over Solid Vision tail and off course for breaching the surface completely. She was only faintly aware that that was her last monster gone—and that since it no longer had the benefits of her Abysslungs to protect it, her LP gauge had dwindled to 1850 as a result.

The Blue Sea Duelist chanced a look behind her—and that was her final mistake: the awesome bulk of the second Anomalocaris was already taking up half her field of vision, and more of it by the second! Hurriedly, she turned and fled upwards, faster than ever. But the instant of distraction had already cost her.

All of a sudden, the water was moving against her, reducing her speed to a crawl. Then, slowly but surely, it began dragging her in reverse: the leviathan was sucking her in. Kiri let out a strangled yell, but the water smothered that, too; everything was going silent, black—

—and then suddenly she’d heaved herself out of the Central Park pond, with the greatest single effort she’d ever expended, and was gulping in torrents of air.

The squeal of defeat her Duel Disk was giving off meant little to Kiri; all she cared about was that everything felt right again with the world. Not even the strange numbness in her right arm mattered to her: there was no more Planck Scale to make her feel so minuscule, no more of those creepy crawly Burgesstomas, no more Anomalocaris trying to swallow her alive—

Kiri screamed. She had just seen what was making her left arm so numb: a grayish-blue creature, almost a meter in length, clinging against her forearm, making muffled chewing noises like a baby trying to gum at its teething toys, and flapping helplessly in the air all the while. She scrabbled for higher, drier land, flinging her arms every which way and shrieking like a maniac with every step she took.

It took ten seconds—ten seconds too many—before she was able to fling the suddenly miniaturized Anomalocaris off her person and into the lake. The splash it created narrowly missed Jong as she stepped out of the pond, shaking the last of the Solid Vision water out of her hair and smiling softly as she basked in her victory.

Kiri did not wait to find out if the Anomalocaris had disappeared with the rest of Legendary Capital Atlantis as it faded from reality—she was too busy glaring at the Korean. “That … that was a horror movie!” she screeched, shivering from both the wind against her soaking-wet body and the experience of what she’d just been through. “I felt like the girl in that movie poster for Jaws—the one with the shark right under her! UGH!” She shuddered, feeling very green around the gills. “That Planck Scale card should be banned for what it nearly did to me!”

She deactivated her Duel Disk’s costume function, and watched her bare legs reappear from underneath the mermaid’s tail, stretching them until the joints popped and wiggling her toes.

“I’m going to need an hour at least before I’m ready to watch the last Duel, Yū,” she told the LDS Duelist, her heart still beating a mile a minute. “That fight was mentally and physically exhausting. It’s going to take some time for me to recover from everything Miss Jong put me through.”

She leveled another hard glare at her opponent. “I’ve never been so glad to be five feet tall.”

“Perhaps next time you’ll be a little more mindful about where you swim,” the Korean Duelist said, her eyes twinkling. She held out a hand. Kiri had calmed down just enough that she shook it, and Jong enclosed it in the folds of her own palm as she sat down beside the Blue Sea Duelist.

They sat there in silence for a long time, watching Yū, Kurokōri, and everyone else talk about their Duel. After a fashion, Jong—who looked as though she had something on her mind—cleared her throat, and decided to speak it.

“ … So,” she said. “Speaking of swimming—are you ready to tell me your secret now, Kiri? You’ve heard mine—it’s only fair that I hear yours after beating you. I’d like to know how a human being can swim as fast as you.”

Kiri flopped down on the shoreline of the pond, utterly spent. “It feels so lame next to your Deck,” she eventually said, “that I don’t know if I want to call it a secret anymore. It’s honestly more like a trick of the trade.”

She waved her hand in a listless circle. “You know how propellers work, right?” the Blue Sea Duelist asked. When Jong nodded: “They school us real early in physics at Blue Sea, you know—so we can get the hang of our costumes as quickly as possible. Fluid dynamics, viscosity—they drum all those things into our heads right from the get-go.

“Well, the smaller those propellers get,” Kiri went on, “the less they actually use the water itself to carry themselves forward, and the more they use the forces that bind all the molecules of that water together. They spin slower, yeah, but they don’t need to. It’s like if Kaede decided to swim in a big pool of soft-serve ice cream—”

“Ooh—can it be strawberry?”

Kiri ignored the giggling Cuisine Duelist, who'd chosen that moment to scamper up next to her.   “If she tried to doggy-paddle out of it like she did to swim to shore, back when we started Dueling, she wouldn’t get far—because ice cream’s so much thicker than water, right? But if she kept her movements slow and easy, she’d be able to pull herself out of it with a lot less trouble.”

“What makes you think I’d want to get out?” Kaede teased her, snickering.

“Hush, Kaede,” Jong huffed. “Now I wish I had something to write all this down. I don’t have much of a brain for physics—not nearly as much as I do for history, anyway. But”—she pursed her lips—“I still feel like you’re only telling me half the story. What does all this have to do with you swimming faster than any—?”

It was Kiri’s turn to smirk. She kept it for a full three seconds—after being chased all over the field by primeval throwbacks of Duel Monsters, it felt immensely satisfying to have one up on an LDS student for a change.

“Think about everything I just told you, Miss Jong,” she said. “Connect the dots and put it all together.”

The Korean put a finger to her chin, deep in thought. Almost a minute passed by in silence before she let out a gasp.

“Your costume!” she blurted out. “That’s how you’re doing it?!”

Kiri nodded triumphantly. “May the wonders of Solid Vision never cease,” she said gaily. “Yep—it’s more than just hard light. It’s billions and billions of those tiny little propellers—all made with Solid Vision, stitched together with Solid Vision, and made to swim through Solid Vision like it was so much water. They aren’t half bad in actual water, either.” She heaved a wistful sigh. “With them all working together in a Duel, or during a dolphin show, it feels like I’m Iwasaki Kyōko, taking gold at Barcelona in record time—and she did it without a mermaid costume,” she added with a boastful wink.

“Gamdongjeog-in.” Jong’s eyebrows were arched high. “It takes a lot for a Duelist to impress me, Kiri hu-bae—and I can count the number of people who managed to do that while losing on one hand.”

Softly, she bumped Kiri’s shoulder with a fist. “That number just went up by one. Joh-eun gyeong-gi.”

Kiri returned the gesture. “Good game.” She frowned. “That … is what you said, right?” she asked. Jong giggled.

“I’ll have to second that,” Kurokōri had walked up next to the pair of girls. “That was a heck of a show you two put on, ladies. Especially you, Kiri—I’d like to have a look at that costume of yours up close one day.”

The Mermaid Duelist grinned. “Give me that hour to wind down, and you’ll have it before the next Duel,” she said, flopping back onto the grass. “I’ll bet Yūrei needs every second he can get to be ready to outshine me!”

There was a snort. “I’m not even going to bother answering that,” said the boy, still lounging against a tree next to Roşu. “Just you wait. I’m gonna take my sweet time beating Roşu here.”

This only made Jong laugh louder. “Geuga sidohaneun boja,” she confided to Kiri in an undertone. “You think I scared you in our Duel? The last kid Roşu fought didn’t even make it to the bathroom in time … ”

Kiri laughed—but the mirth died on her lips bare moments later.

The Romanian, she had just seen, was still faintly smiling.

Chapter Text

X

It took another ten minutes for Kiri to clean all the water out of her ears for the second time today. Only when she’d finally flashed a thumbs-up did Yū judge himself ready to start the third and final Duel of the day.

“Okay—Yūrei, Roşu, get set up,” he called out to both boys; no drawing of straws would be needed here. “Let’s see what you can do for Kurokōri.”

Yūrei sprang up from where he’d been sitting with a renewed vigor. He’d started fixing his silver Duel Disk to his wrist before his feet had hit the ground. Roşu, meanwhile, took his time; he spent a few more precious seconds polishing his own jet-black device, then dusting off his blazer and slacks and smoothing them out, before he judged himself satisfied, securing the Duel Disk to his arm only then.

“He’s seriously going to Duel in that outfit—oof!” Kiko’s whisper had carried enough for Jong to hear, and the Korean promptly elbowed her in her side, turning the whisper into a strained wheeze.

“Be nice,” Jong whispered back with a pointed look, at which Kiko promptly nodded.

Yūrei and Roşu had taken their positions by then. The younger of the pair was gazing back at his opponent in a way that reminded Yū of a deer caught in a particularly bright pair of headlights.

“So … this isn’t going to change anything between us, is it?” the Wight Duelist was heard to murmur.

Roşu’s frown deepened exactly one millimeter. “Change what?”

Yūrei gulped. “Never mind,” he said hurriedly, slipping his Deck into his Disk. Whatever enthusiasm and bravado he’d possessed earlier seemed to have deserted him. Perhaps, Yū suspected, he had just come to realize that he was about to Duel a member of the most prestigious Duel School in the world.

“Uh-oh,” Kurokōri said sotto voce to Yū. His eyes had narrowed. “I’ve seen that look before.”

“Hm?”

“I remember Dueling this guy from the Clover Branch when I was younger,” explained Kurokōri. “Name of Tenjō Kaito. Every time I saw him, he’d always have this boy about Yūrei’s age, Allen, hanging around. Whenever Kaito did something that Duel—attack or play a monster, even when he drew a card—Allen would get stars in his eyes.”

Yū thought he understood. “Guy crush?”

“Big time.” Kurokōri went silent for a few long moments, taking in the stare-down between the boys either side of them. “Sorry if I’m sounding nostalgic here—being here in this city, watching these Duels … I can’t help but think of happier times.”

Yū bit his lip, dreading to ask the question on his mind—but he did anyway. “ … What happened to them?”

Another pause. “ … Allen had an older cousin called Anna,” Kurokōri finally replied. “About Kiko and Kiri’s age, but a real tomboy type—not like those two at all.” He sighed. “It took half a dozen squads of the Obelisk Force to finally seal her into a card. She went down swinging … she fought like a hero.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he continued to reminisce. “Allen and Kaito joined the Resistance after that,” he said. “His friend Sayaka went with them. They never looked back.”

He sighed again, and muttered something Yū couldn’t quite hear. The LDS Duelist leaned forward. “Say again?”

Kurokōri shook his head. Yū took the hint—he wasn’t one to pry into private matters. But as he waited for Yūrei and Roşu to signal their readiness, he couldn’t help but replay the mumbled words in his mind. The more he did, the more he was certain that what he’d heard sounded like “I miss the hell out of them.”

He shrugged. Kurokōri had traveled a long way to find them, after all. It was, Yū decided, only natural he would want to pine for comrades both lost and far away. So he said nothing more, and waited for the final two combatants to begin.

Across from them, Jong had been eyeing the impending Duel with no small amount of trepidation. Not even Kaede could have failed to notice the tense look building on her face.

The little girl tugged on her blouse sleeve. “Miss Jong?”

“Hm?” The Korean jumped at the interruption. “What is it?”

“You’ve been kinda quiet,” said the Cuisine Duelist. “Are you okay?”

Apparently Kaede had taken her sudden silence to be shellshock from her recent Duel with Kiri, Jong thought to herself. That wasn’t a wrong guess—the hit she’d taken from the Mermaid Duelist’s Abysstrite was no doubt going to bruise—however, she had other things on her mind at the moment.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she answered distractedly. “I’m … just a little worried.”

“About Roşu?”

Jong pursed her lips, unsure how to answer that. “I am … but right now, though, I’m more worried about Yūrei.”

“Why’s that?” Kiko had overheard, and was leaning in with an equally interested Kiri to better listen to the girls’ conversation.

“It’s because of the way Yūrei’s behaving,” replied Jong. “If those boys have been friends like he was claiming, then he’d be acting that much more confidently around Roşu. Only he suddenly looks nervous.”

“Could be stage fright,” remarked Kiri.

“I don’t think so.” Jong was deep in thought now. “Kaede—from what you’ve told me about Yūrei, he knows his way around his Deck. I mean, he beat you just last evening, according to you. So he should at least be confident in what he can do as a Duelist.”

She pursed her lips. “However, the way he’s acting tells me that even though he and Roşu are friends … they’ve still never Dueled each other before—not with Solid Vision. And that’s exactly why I’m so worried about the boy.”

“What do you mean?” Kiri’s gaze was flitting from Jong to Yūrei and back again, her face growing more concerned every second.

Jong clicked her tongue. “Let me put it this way. If I was about to Duel for my future in the Leo Duel School, and my choice of opponents was either Roşu or Akaba Reiji … I’d choose to Duel Reiji in a heartbeat.”

The three girls were flabbergasted. “Seriously?!” Kiko spluttered. “Is Roşu really that good of a Duelist?!”

“No—Reiji’s the leader of the Lancers for a reason,” said Jong. “Roşu’s smart enough to know that his skills don’t hold a candle even to him. It’s not a question of how well Roşu Duels … but how he Duels in general.”

Kiri frowned. “So he’s got a gimmick, is what you’re saying?” she asked. “Like how I’m a Mermaid Duelist?”

“You could say that,” nodded Jong. “What you need to understand about the Leo Duel School is that they have branches around the whole world. The Busan branch I’m from, and the Bucharest branch Roşu’s from, are just two out of dozens, if not hundreds. With how many branches there are, it’s inevitable that each of them will want to distinguish itself from one another in some way. Look at any tree in nature—no two of its limbs are alike.”

“And each branch has its own Dueling style?” Kiko wondered. “Or something to set it apart from all the others?”

“Right. For example, LDS’ main branch in this city showcases its proficiency with Extra Deck Summoning,” Jong went on. “Our Broadway school, meanwhile, favors a lot of flashy moves—glitz and glam; I’ve been told that the You Show Duel School in this city was a big influence in their approach. My Busan branch was just established a year ago. Which means it’s new enough that we’re still trying to nail down a particular style—we’ve got a little bit of everything. Stun Decks, burn Decks—so my Burgesstoma Deck isn’t so much of an outlier there as it is here.”

“So what’s Roşu’s style like, then?” Kaede wanted to know.

Jong fell silent. “Since ancient times,” she said quietly, “there has always been conflict; armies fighting armies—one being fighting another. The weapons may have changed—clubs and spears, bows and catapults, guns and missiles; and now, even digitally rendered monsters—but the people who fight them still remain largely the same.

“But because of this rapid change in weapons over thousands of years,” Jong continued, “the concept of war has evolved much quicker than human beings themselves ever could. Therefore, the rules of war have had to change where we could not to better fit its new form. Even so, there are times when one side tries to bend those rules, in an attempt to gain the upper hand in battle. Other times, they even break them. That’s around the point when you start reading about world leaders getting charged with crimes against humanity, genocide, and things like that.”

Kiri frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

Jong had to take a moment to think of a good reply. “Even Duel Monsters has its own rules of engagement,” she told the girls. “In another time, I’d have theorized that the notion of entire armies using the game as a weapon of war, like Academia does, was inevitable. But unlike in war, with all its treaties and compromises, some of Duel Monsters’ rules of engagement are more official than others. Cheating is a no-no. Stand a minimum of ten meters apart from your opponent at all times. Announcing your cards and their effects for all to hear helps the audience follow the Duel in progress—and hyping up your cards hypes the spectators up along with them.”

Kaede blinked. “So?”

The Korean paused again. “ … Our Bucharest branch likes to bend those rules on occasion. Not break them—Reiji sets too good an example for them to do that. Nevertheless … unlike Yūrei, I have actually seen Roşu Duel before.”

She swallowed, already sensing the girls’ unease. “And that’s exactly why he’s the last person I’d ever want to fight today—or any day.”

“I can do this,” Yūrei had been muttering to himself in the meantime. “I can do this. I can do this. I’ve got the perfect combo—I pull it off, I win.”

He took a few more deep breaths—then finally signaled a thumbs-up at Yū.

“Roşu!” the LDS student hollered back. “You good to go, too?”

The Romanian gave no reply but for his tight, split-second nod—but Yū was close enough to have seen. He raised his thumb back in reply, and immediately pressed his Duel Disk again.

Images of different terrains cycled through the screen at random, a dozen every second, until it finally stopped on a particularly ominous-looking picture. “Action Field: Tomb World selected,” announced the computer. “Solid Vision generators online.”

Yūrei’s gelled hair seemed to spike even more as he pumped a fist. The excited grin spreading across his face looked even sharper than the purple-pink spears that preceded it.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to crack and crumble all around. Each of the fissures was just big enough that they could maybe fit a thin enough person. Kaede had to scramble away in shock as the ground started splitting barely a meter from where she was sitting.

Now a thick gray mist was spilling from the cracks, obscuring the rest of the ground, and Maiami City followed suit shortly thereafter. Within moments, even the sky appeared to have darkened into something like nighttime, and the temperature of the air was plummeting like a stone—though whether this sudden cold was because of the mist or the lack of light, Yū could not tell.

All of a sudden, the ground heaved, and a hundred long, tall somethings jutted upwards from the cracks that had appeared in the ground, like so many fangs. One of them was close enough to Yū that he could make out details on what it was—porous, rocky, and gray, but roughly hewn into shapes that he swore looked just like—

“Gravestones?” Kurokōri wondered out loud.

And so they were: much of the mist had been dispelled, though small patches still covered the ground on which they now stood, to reveal the Action Field in full. But for the distant castle on the hill beyond, the world was endlessly flat, illuminated by the crimson light of a full blood moon far bigger than the sun, and bright enough to outshine any star that dared show itself. Tombstones upon tombstones upon tombstones—some twice as tall as a full-grown man, others barely knee-high, and thousands of each within immediate sight—reached off into infinity in ranks and files barely fifteen feet apart. No names could be discerned, so weathered and worn were they, but the sheer number of them gave off a sinister air quite unlike any Action Field Yū had ever experienced in his Dueling career.

Kaede, it seemed, had the same opinion. “C-c-can’t we j-j-just use T-t-toy Town again, Yū?” she asked through chattering teeth. “Or even that Atlantis p-p-place? This Field is c-c-creepy!”

“I know … ” Yūrei answered her—before suddenly breaking out in a wide grin. “Ain’t it cool? I’d always hoped I could Duel on this Field at the Wight School one day!”

“Speak for yourself!” Kiko shot back, holding her whole left hand under her other armpit to keep it warm.

Yūrei ignored her. “How ‘bout you, Dracula?” he asked Roşu. “What do you think of this place?”

The Romanian exhaled through his nose. “E ca acasă înapoi.” His voice was surprisingly quiet. “Like home,” he added, seeing Yūrei’s curious face.

“Home?” The Wight Duelist frowned—and then blinked. “Oh, right—you’re Romanian. All those vampire stories took place up there, didn’t they?”

“No,” Roşu said curtly. “Too much like home.” His dark eyes were shifting left and right, narrowed in clear dislike.

“What’s that mean?”

Roşu did not answer his question. “You too young—too stupid,” he spat. “Ce vezi este lumea doreşti. Nu vedeţi lumea pentru ce este.”

The Wight Duelist’s face fell. “Wha—aw, c’mon, that’s harsh!” he protested. “At least I’m not as annoying as that girl who was pestering you this morning, right?”

“We fight now!” The Romanian’s bark made everyone jump, particularly Yūrei; no one had heard him speak this loudly today. “Before we have chance to find out! DUEL!”

No sooner had Roşu spoken than he’d slashed his left arm through the air. The edge of the chevron that sizzled from his black Duel Disk an instant later was the color of fresh blood—like the axe blade of an executioner. So violent was the action, and so visceral the sight that followed, that Yūrei’s own response—to ignite his own bright purple blade, much shorter than Roşu’s on account of their difference in height—felt distinctly diminished in comparison.

“Straight to it, isn’t he?” Kurokori and Yū had joined the four girls for a better vantage point. The former was leaning against a particularly sturdy tombstone as he took in the sight.

“I like this guy—he’s a nice change of pace from you two,” said the Xyz Duelist, smirking slightly at Kiko and Kaede. The younger girl, indignant, made a face at him in reply.

“Roşu’s also older than most of us are,” Kiri said defensively. “So cut us some slack—of course he’s got our head fixed on straighter than we do.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Kiko. “Look at his face. He almost looks … angry. More than when we first met him, I’d even say.”

Yū felt his gaze travel to the Romanian, and realized she was right: every inch of the young man’s face was etched with agitation. His cheekbones were tight and tense, and his teeth looked like they were grinding against each other beneath his tight lips. Even the hand not clutching the five cards that constituted his opening hand was making a fist every so often, shaking as though it wanted to punch something—or someone.

“Something about this Field’s not sitting right with him,” Kiko murmured from beside them all, “and I don’t think it’s because it’s ‘creepy’.” She glanced at Kaede, but said nothing more.

Not that anyone was looking to try: Life Point counters, set to 4000, had blinked into existence—the Duel was on.

“You have done favor for me,” Roşu said to Yūrei, still wide-eyed at the sudden outburst of his “sorta-kinda friend”. “Only reason I permit you dignity of first move. Only dignity I permit today,” he added, fixing his narrow eyes on the Wight Duelist.

“ … O-o-o-okay.” Yūrei shrank away a few steps. Roşu took a few paces forward, matching him.

It took ten more paces backward before Yūrei seemed to finally realize that he needed to make more of a move than just backing away. His gray eyes darted downward, checking the cards in his hand, and the girls saw an instant expression of relief flicker across his face.

Finally, the boy acted. “I activate the Field Spell: Ghostrick Museum!” said Yūrei, sliding a card onto his blade. Moments after that, the already sinister fog of the Field Spell had closed in around the Duel site, enveloping him and Roşu in seconds. Jong barely noticed a number of antique glass cases, dusty and cracked with age, rising from the ground as silently as the freezing fog that wrapped around her like a wet blanket.

“Then I’ll Set one monster, and two more cards,” the Wight Duelist went on, and a trio of face-downs appeared before him: the one monster in face-down Defense Position directly in front of him—marked by a glowing skull of barbed wire and red eyes—then, behind and either side of that, a pair of cards in his back row. “Turn end!”

“That’s it?” Kiri asked, mingled surprise and disgust on her face. “I was expecting him to do more—especially after you said he beat you just yesterday, Kaede.”

“His Deck’s weird like that,” was all that the little girl answered with. “I beat Yūrei the first day we met. But that was only because I had lots more good cards in my hand than what Kiko”—she glared at her—“left me with today.”

“I said I was sorry!” hissed Kiko indignantly, but Kaede stifled a giggle.

“She’s right, you know,” Yū and Kurokōri had sat down to join them. “Yūrei’s got a very … unconventional style of Dueling, Kiri. He doesn’t like starting right out of the gate like you and Kiko.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to spoil anything for you beyond saying this: none of the monsters in his Deck are all that physically strong. Not a one. But that’s okay with Yūrei—the goal with his Deck isn’t to Summon big monsters in the first place.”

Kiri and Kiko traded glances. The Blue Sea Duelist spoke first. “Then … what is it?”

Yū smiled. “Just watch. You’ll see it soon enough.”

Roşu’s mouth twitched downwards in a faint sneer. “Am I joke to you?” he called out to Yūrei. “You use most of hand in one turn, and this is all it gives you at turn’s end?”

He shook his head. “Sunteţi neglijent, Yūrei … but—hmm.” His narrow eyes blinked in concentration, oblivious to Yūrei’s look of confusion. “No matter. I play your game. Does not matter what Duelist does with forty, fifty, or sixty cards—only what Duelist does with first four, five, or six.

“So—by end of turn, I hold one card in hand like you, yes?” The Romanian brandished an index finger, pointed skyward, to drive his point home. “Then … we find which of us does more with first turn. I draw!”

He did so with a ferocious movement, slicing the card out from his Duel Disk as if drawing a sword from its scabbard. Moments later, “I Summon! Vampire Familiar, Attack Position!”

Nothing happened—at least for a very short moment. But a very short moment later, Roşu seemed to explode in a burst of darkness. Yū and the others had started, shocked at the display, but a moment after that, this dark explosion had solidified into a swarm of shadowy bats, squeaking and flitting about in every direction before whirling into place in front of Roşu (Level 1: ATK 500/DEF 0).

“Now—Continuous Spell: Vampire Domain,” grunted the Romanian, sliding a second card onto his scarlet-tinged blade. “Once per turn, I pay 500 Life Points for second Normal Summon. I now Release Familiar for Advance Summon: Vampire Grimson, Attack Position!”

He tensed: his body had begun to glow a sickly green; in almost the same breath, his LP had dropped to 3500. No one paid attention to this, however, as a blur of shadow had streaked up from one of the tombstones directly behind Roşu—soaring far too quickly, and landing far too lightly on the weathered marble, to be human.

But Grimson looked human enough, though: her great leathery wings, as velvet-red as the ornate masked cape from which they sprouted, revealed a slim build as they billowed into the air. Her hands, withered and so deathly cold as to be pale blue in color, clutched a gigantic scythe with the calmness of centuries spent practicing with it (Level 5: ATK 2000/DEF 1400).

The monster’s single exposed eye burned like a candle in the fog. She ran a long tongue along her exposed fangs, drawing a hissing, shuddering breath that felt ten degrees colder than the already frigid air. Yū couldn’t decide which part of this scene was making him shiver more. Nor was he alone; the girls with him looked pale in ways that he didn’t think had anything to do with the cold. Even Kurokōri was biting his lip, uneasy.

“Familiar effect,” Roşu said. “While in Graveyard, I send Vampire card from hand or field to Graveyard—and Special Summon to field.” He did so, plucking a single card from his hand; seconds later, the cloud of bats billowed around Grimson once more (Level 1: ATK 500/DEF 0). “Familiar second effect—when Special Summoned, I pay 500 Life Points, and add another Vampire monster to hand.”

He swiped a card from his Deck, his skin again glowing that strange shade of green for a brief second as his LP slipped further to 3000. “For Familiar first effect, I send Vampire Retainer to Graveyard,” he said, unruffled—though perhaps a little paler than usual. “Now, Retainer effect: while in Graveyard, I send Vampire card from hand or field to Graveyard again—and Special Summon to field again. I send my Familiar on field—begone!”

As if the single word he’d barked had been an order, the swarm of bats that was Familiar scattered to the four winds, their shrieks fading into the artificial night. In its place had leapt a white dog, its mournful howl echoing in the fog as it stood tall before Roşu (Level 2: ATK 1200/DEF 0).

“Awww!” Kaede had raised her stubby hands to her breast in gleeful delight. “Look at the cute little puppy doggy! Who’s a cute little puppy doggy?” she called out to the Duel Monster, mushing her cheeks together as if talking to a baby. “Who’s a cute widdle puppy doggy?”

Retainer turned towards Kaede, grinning as if in acknowledgement—but in doing so, it had revealed its right side to Kaede: a roiling mass of dark fire, with only a semblance of paws and claws protruding from where such limbs would be. The right half of the dog’s mouth was a horrifying rictus of needle-sharp teeth, topped by one of the reddest, most demonic-looking eyes Yū had ever seen.

“Ye-e-eek!” The Cuisine Duelist’s knees knocked in an undignified display, and she collapsed to the ground in a cold sweat and a pile of ruffles. “N-n-n-nice … widdle p-p-puppy doggy,” she squeaked, eyes wide and round as tea saucers. “Nice … evil puppy d-d-doggy … ”

Everyone else had been too transfixed at the appearance of Familiar to notice—and Roşu looked too far in his element to care. “Retainer second effect,” he grunted. “When Special Summoned, I pay 500 Life Points, and add Vampire Spell or Trap to hand.” Again, he plucked out a card from his Deck, inspecting it, then adding it to his hand without comment—and again, his body doubled up in discomfort, glowing that spectral green. For the third time this Duel, his LP gauge slipped another five hundred points, stopping at a still-respectable 2500.

Nevertheless, Yū couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.

“What the heck is Roşu doing?” Kiko tilted her head from the sidelines, confused. “He can’t expend that many of his Life Points so quickly. If he goes too far, it won’t matter how weak Yūrei’s monsters are—he’ll cherry-tap the guy and it’ll still be game over!”

“He must have some way of getting them all back,” Kiri thought out loud as she wiped her hands off, having hauled a still-shivering Kaede and her blooming dress into a sitting position. “Maybe that card he fished out just now was fished out for that reason.”

“I think you’re right,” Yū agreed. “I’ve seen risk-reward Decks like Roşu’s before. Dueled against a few, too,” he added with a look at Kurokōri. “They have to have some kind of exit strategy if their Duelist digs too deep a hole—otherwise they’ll end up beaten by their own hand, before their opponent has even thought up their winning move.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants,” said Kurokōri. “Higher risk, higher reward. He’ll use his exit, yeah—but he’ll wait until the very last second to do it. Until he’s got exactly what he needs to win.”

“He already does.” Jong’s voice was almost a whisper. “He’s had it before this Duel even started.”

Yū frowned. “What do you mean?”

The Korean was staring straight ahead, her almond eyes fixed on Roşu like twin lasers. “I told the girls how our branch school in Bucharest went about playing this game, Sakuragi. How they wanted to bend the rules, yet stop short of breaking them.”

“Yeah?”

A pause. “Roşu’s strategy—all the cards in his Deck that he’s played so far—is just half of the equation,” Jong continued. “Sometimes I see him get into this … zone of sorts. It’s like the world shrinks around him—he erases it all until all that’s left is the Duel itself.”

She shifted where she sat. “You’re right about the risk-reward part of his Deck—but I know him a lot better than any of you,” she told the kids. “Sometimes Roşu goes deeper than even that, into this zone of his. The Duel itself becomes an afterthought—his entire world is now nothing but whoever he’s facing.”

“Just how well do you know Roşu, Miss Jong?” Kiri asked. “I can’t stop thinking about why this Action Field made him so angry.”

But the Korean only shrugged. “Neither can I. There are parts of his life he’s never been keen to open up about. His life before LDS, his family … I’ve done my best to respect his silence, but I can’t help wondering myself.”

Jong broke eye contact with the Duel at last to look up at Yū. “All I know right now is this: Vladislav Roşu is no longer playing Duel Monsters,” she said, her voice heavy with foreboding. “He’s playing Yūrei. And if he starts to think he’s winning,” she added, turning back to the Duel, “I really, genuinely don’t know what he’ll do to the boy.”

Yū swallowed, watching the Duel unfold with a lump in his throat he didn’t know had been there before.

“Spell Card: Vampire Desire!”

Roşu now slapped another card on his blade. “I target monster on my field, and send Vampire monster with different Level from Deck to Graveyard; my monster’s Level is now same as that of sent monster. I send Level 6 Vampire Red Baron, and so make Grimson Level 6.” Grimson gripped its scythe tighter at this, switching its stance until the wicked-looking blade was pointing right at Yūrei.

This shift in the monster’s posture finally seemed to rouse the Wight Duelist from his deer-in-the-headlights daze. “Double Continuous Trap, activate!” he yelled. “Ghostrick Night and Ghostrick Roll—”

“Too slow!” Roşu stabbed outward with a finger. “Battle Phase! Vampire Retainer, attack Set monster!” The two-faced hound lunged forward, opening its slavering mouth wide—

—only to skid to a halt right in front of the monster, looking left and right and snarling all the while.

Yūrei snickered. “Gotcha. Ghostrick Museum’s effect stops any monster from attacking any face-down monsters for attacks,” he explained, “but if there’s no face-up monsters to attack, it can become a direct attack instead!”

Roşu tilted his head. So did Kiko, off to the sidelines. “What kind of effect is that?” she was heard to say to Kiri. “He’s just asking to get beaten into the ground— Roşu’s monsters are just too strong!”

Kaede, who unlike the two other girls knew a few ins and outs of Yūrei’s Deck, shook her head. “He pulled this trick on me the first time I Dueled him,” she told them. “I think he wants to keep that face-down monster alive.”

The Romanian had heard them talking. “Fetele alea te cunosc prea bine,” he said to Yūrei, glancing at them briefly before returning his narrowed gaze to the Wight Duelist. “No tricks work twice. Not even yours.”

He snapped his fingers. “Retainer!” he barked. “Direct attack!” His slavering hound growled in reply—and then it had lunged right for Yūrei before the boy had thought to grab an Action Card. The force of its attack sent the poor boy stumbling backwards into a tombstone—Yū cringed when he heard the thud of flesh against stone—and Yūrei’s LP had dropped to 2800 before he’d mustered the wits to kick Retainer away.

“Domain second effect,” grunted Roşu. “If Vampire monster makes battle damage, I gain as much Life Points!” No sooner had he spoken than his skin began to glow green once more—but this time, the shade of green looked much more verdant than before, and the Romanian was seen to close his eyes in an instant of apparent bliss the moment his Life gauge now showed 3700.

Yū saw Kurokōri nod to himself—and Kiri as well. It seemed both Duelists were right about Roşu having a card to offset the LP he’d paid to use his effects, and to use at the last possible moment. But he knew Yūrei wasn’t out yet.

Sure enough, once the Wight Duelist had climbed to his feet—no worse for wear—he’d plucked a single card from his hand and showed it to Roşu. “If I ever take damage,” he said, ignoring the fresh bites and scratches on his body, “I can discard this Ghostrick Mary, and Special Summon a Ghostrick monster from my Deck in face-down Defense Position! And then,” he added, managing a grin, “because your monster not only attacked me, but inflicted battle damage as well—it means I can use my Ghostrick Museum’s second effect!”

Roşu tilted his head once more as he saw a decrepit-looking mirror and dresser silently rise up behind his Retainer. “My Museum,” Yūrei went on, “can change any monster that inflicts battle damage to face-down Defense Position! And because of my Continuous Trap: Ghostrick Night,” he smirked, “as long as I have a Ghostrick monster on my field, you won’t be able to change them back!”

The Romanian was unlucky—or maybe lucky, Yū pondered—for where he was standing meant he wasn’t able to see what happened next. His Retainer had time for only one look at the mirror that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago—and then the image of a girl, ghostly white of skin and hair, with eyes as red as rubies, lunged at it from inside the mirror itself with an unearthly wail. Both halves of Retainer’s face contorted in shock at the unexpected sight—and with a yelp, the beast sprinted between its master’s legs to duck behind the nearest tombstone.

Several seconds of silence passed before it became clear that Retainer had no intention of coming back out. Yūrei snickered. “C’mon, Roşu,” he said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “You know me better than that. I live to scare—what makes you think you can scare me?”

Roşu said nothing. But his face had darkened to the point Yū felt like mocking the boy to his face was the last thing Yūrei should be doing. If the Wight Duelist had noticed, however, he was too far in his element to care.

“Now for my next trick,” he was saying. “You attacked too quick to hear me say it, but I’ve got another Continuous Trap on my field—Ghostrick Rollshift! During the Battle Phase, I can use its effect to target a face-down Defense Position monster on my field, and change it to face-up Attack Position! So I’ll reveal my Ghostrick Warwolf—and then”—Yūrei’s smirk grew wider still—“since I revealed a Ghostrick monster, Rollshift can also let me change one of your monsters to face-down Defense Position! Like your Vampire Grimson!”

What happened next was very fast. No sooner had Yūrei flipped his own monster than Warwolf had lunged from the very card itself: a snarling, brown-and-gray-furred werewolf in freshly ripped rags (Level 3: ATK 1400/DEF 1500). Warwolf’s four paws touched the ground once—only once—and then it had caught Grimson in a bone-jarring tackle before the vampire could raise her scythe. The two rolled head over heels past Roşu—but Warwolf was heavier, and so he was the one who emerged the victor in this brief scuffle. Grimson, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

“Ghostrick Warwolf’s effect activates when it’s flipped face-up,” Yūrei called out, “and lets me inflict 100 damage to my opponent for each Set card on the field! My monster makes one—and your monsters make three!”

Roşu ducked just in time—all of a sudden, Warwolf had let fly with a bellowing roar to his face that made Kaede jump right out of her shoes with a squeak. The Romanian’s reflexes were impeccable; he avoided the worst of the shockwave by way of a quick step to the side. Nevertheless, the force of the noise still blew a few black hairs off his neatly trimmed sideburns—and by the time Roşu had regained his composure, his LP gauge was seen to sit at 3400.

He touched his ear, grimacing, and Yū faintly saw his fingertips come away red. Why that sent a shiver through his spine, he wasn’t sure.

Warwolf paused only to kick up dirt on the spot where Grimson had last been seen before he shuffled back to Yūrei. The Wight Duelist was almost dancing where he stood.

“What was that about my tricks never working twice?” he taunted Roşu, grinning ear to ear. “Even the oldest trick in the book can work if you’re not expecting it. Guess that says more about you as a Duelist than me.”

But the Romanian didn’t seem willing to dignify this with a response; he was already sliding a brace of cards into his Duel Disk. “I Set. Two cards,” Roşu spoke, in a voice as cold as ice, watching each of them vanish before his eyes, “and end turn.”

Jong sidled over to Yū with worry all over her face. “I really wish Yūrei would stop doing that,” she whispered to him. “I don’t care how well they know each other. Friends just aren’t supposed to push each other’s buttons. Not the way he’s doing right now.”

“I’ll talk to him after the Duel,” the LDS Duelist reassured her.

But the Korean shook her head. “You’re not going to get the chance, then. I guarantee you that Roşu is taking all that taunting personally right now. If Yūrei goes too far … ” She swallowed, but did not finish her sentence.

Yū was about to reply—but the Romanian’s voice cracked like a whip across the Action Field at that moment.

“So!” He brandished the single card in his hand like it was a ninja star he longed to throw—perhaps even at Yūrei. “I end turn with one card, as you did—just as I made promise. Who has done more for first turn of Duel, then?”

Yūrei tilted his head. “How the heck should I know?” he shrugged. “You’ve got more Life Points, and more monsters—stronger monsters—but you can’t use those monsters thanks to me, can you?”

A tiny gasp escaped Jong’s mouth—loud enough that only Yū and Kurokōri heard it.

“That’s what he’s doing!” she was musing, half to herself. “He’s stun-locking! Yūrei Sets his monsters to defend himself from attacks—and then uses his Field Spell and his Continuous Traps to clog Roşu’s own field! A full board of monsters won’t mean a thing if you’re not able to use it!”

For an instant, the smallest of smiles drifted over her lips. “That boy’s got some on him, I’ll give him that.”

Yū put a finger to his lips and shush Jong—smiling in a way that he hoped would tell her “Don’t give up the game”. Kurokōri, for his part, was eyeing the unfolding Duel with calculating silence.

By the time Yū returned his attention to the Duel, Roşu was speaking once more. “Why you Duel with these little Ghostricks?” he demanded at Yūrei. “What reason they give you to pick up Deck and Duel Disk every day?”

“Huh?” Yūrei had drawn back a pace or two, apparently not expecting the question. “ … What kind of a question is that? Why does anyone make a Deck with the cards they have? They’re like me—they speak to me, you know? Only Ghostricks like to scare other monsters and other people,” he added, shrugging helplessly.

Roşu was unmoved. “You think Ghostricks scare me?” he snorted. “My country has enough history to scare him.”

He stabbed out with his finger at Kurokōri. Everyone turned on a dime towards the Xyz Duelist—everyone except for Jong, who was still staring at her companion with a strange look on her face.

“Kurokōri is not only one here who fights for right to live—right to survive,” Roşu went on, apparently not noticing or even caring who was around to hear what he was talking about. “But his fight … different from mine.”

Kurokōri leaned forward, intrigued by the Romanian’s discourse. “He knew peace in young life. Joy. I see this all over face. He lived good life—but Academia destroyed old life. Old joys. He fights to feel them again. I do not.”

“What’re you talking about?” Yūrei looked thoroughly stumped now. “Are … are you saying Dueling doesn’t make you feel happy?”

“No. Feel alive.” Roşu delivered the last word through clenched teeth, and with such conviction that everyone took an instinctive step backward. “Like I deserve breath in my lungs. There are people in world I would wish less on.”

He took a deep breath, and spoke more quietly now—but so silent was the Action Field, and the spectators of the Duel taking place, that all present heard his next words.

“I come from children forgotten by madman,” growled the Romanian. “Children with no mother—no father. Too many like them, back then. Too many to live—to feel happy or alive. Born like cattle, to be devoured by world.”

“Sesang-e!”

Jong stumbled back with a huge gasp. Her almond eyes were wide with horror.

“I should have known,” she breathed, shaking like a leaf. “Ceauşescu … his parents survived Ceauşescu … ”

She looked left and right, her voice hushed as she took in the macabre scenery around them. “No wonder he doesn’t like this Action Field,” she murmured. “So much destroyed … so much forgotten … ”

“What’s Chow-chess-coo?” Kaede asked.

“Not what,” Jong said quietly. “Who. He … ” She swallowed. “You’re too young, Kaede. Even if you were smart enough to understand, some parts of history are just too much for young minds to take in.”

An ugly grimace twitched across her lips. “The most I feel comfortable telling you was that he was not a good man. Because of him, an entire country got run into the ground. A whole generation of boys and girls, made into orphans when their parents couldn’t afford to raise them or even feed them … then sent into the streets and gutters when the orphanages got too crowded. Rations on everything from food to electricity to pay off debts to foreign countries; invasion of privacy, riots … no. Romania was not a place you’d want to live in when Ceauşescu was in power.”

She was looking at Kaede; the Cuisine Duelist’s face had gone as white as powdered sugar. “Roşu’s the only person here who could possibly tell you more than that,” Jong went on, “assuming you’d want to hear more to begin with. But if he never told me about any of this, I don’t know how much more of his life he’d trust with all of you.”

Kiko blinked. “He never told you?” she wondered out loud. “But Roşu knows you better than any of us!”

Jong shook her head. “You’ve got it backwards. I told you: I know him better than any of you. I found out the hard way that he doesn’t like talking much about his life before LDS. I first met him at the meet-and-greet our exchange program did at the start of term. A week later, I asked him once. Only once.”

Kiri tilted her head. “And?”

“He ignored my question. And then he ignored me for the whole week after that.” Jong sighed, while the three girls traded looks of shock. “I was annoyed at first, but eventually I got the hint: if he wanted anyone to know about what it was like growing up in Romania, it’d be on his own terms—and in his own words.”

“Madman’s fall was only beginning,” Roşu spoke up just then. Whether Jong was right, or if he was genuinely that upset with where he was Dueling, every word he spoke came through teeth so clenched they were dangerously close to becoming a fine powder. “Like turning rocks to find worms underneath. I will not darken day to speak of them.

“But … ” He clenched the fist beneath his Duel Disk, so tightly that the knuckles turned white, and the single card still held in his fingers nearly creased. “ … I may live good life than before. Better life. But always I remember. I must remember, so I do not forget who gave me life. Or what they did … to make sure I had chance to live it.”

He turned his attention to Yūrei quickly enough that he might have just noticed the boy was there. “We have that much in common with Kurokōri, hmm?”

Yūrei moved his mouth, but so confused was he that for a moment, no words came out. “Do we?” he eventually managed to say. “My parents weren’t … ” But he quickly closed his mouth, and did not finish his sentence.

“Is because of parents that you and he and I did more than most to carry Duel Disk and Deck,” Roşu elaborated, and Yū leaned forward at this, frowning, unsure of whether to focus more on his student or his schoolmate. “This, too, I see all over face. For them”—the Romanian gestured carelessly to Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri—“Duel Monsters is only game to be won. For others”—he pronounced the word so sourly that he looked like he’d tasted a lemon—“it is weapon of war. For us … it is, every day, un motiv de supravieţuire. Reason to survive—to face dawn of new day.”

He drew himself to his full height, and hefted his Duel Disk. “You wish to defeat me, yes?”

The Wight Duelist nodded. “Then your reason to survive must be greater than my own,” said Roşu gravely. “It is only way you win. Only way Kurokōri will take you. If you cannot … if it is not … then he will be death of you.”

Chapter Text

XI

The Duel site had gone utterly quiet. Vladislav Roşu’s words felt as heavy and pervading as the mist that blanketed the park. The crimson moon of Tomb World, blocking out the sun of the real world, cast long shadows over his face that made him look far older than any human had a right to appear.

Sakuragi Yū, however, was paying next to no attention to the Duel for the first time today. Miss Jong looked faintly pale. Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri had a little more color to their faces—but none of them were looking at the Duel, either. All of them—and Yū had to wonder if any of the other spectators were doing the same—had slowly torn their gaze from Roşu and Yūrei, and turned as one upon the boy who had brought them all together.

Perhaps Kurokōri had become invested in the Duel enough—and in what he’d heard during the lull in the action—that he wasn’t immediately aware of all eyes being trained on him. But eventually the silence became crushing enough that Yū thought surely he had to have noticed at some point—and sure enough, he saw Kurokōri’s yellow-green eyes narrow at each of them, and his frown turn a little bit more inwards with each face he saw.

“What?” He shrugged. “When you think about it, he’s right.”

“About what?” Kiri suppressed a swallow, but kept her gaze locked. The Blue Sea Duelist was trying not to look or sound accusing, Yū thought … and having a hard time succeeding at either. “About your parents being the reason you became the Duelist you are? Or about you being the death of us?”

“About winning and surviving being the same thing,” Kurokōri said simply. He pointed at Jong. “Think of it this way—your friend says he came from a country that was just getting over the leadership of a dictator. I’m not going to pretend I know what that’s like—I’m not that insensitive. But I can guess how rough of a time it was to rebuild after those years. And I do know what it’s like to go through a rough rebuilding.”

He leaned forward from where he sat. “Times like those, every day can feel like a struggle to you. Every single day, you’re looking to find decent food and water—or something worth trading for it. I’ll tell you right now, that’s easier said than done when the grocery stores in your city are either blasted to rubble or so run-down that half their food’s expired—rotted past the point of eating. I think Kurosaki’s sister Ruri put it best: ‘Even a cold bowl of soup can feel like victory to an empty stomach.’”

Kurokōri smiled—but Yū could feel the bitterness from where he sat. “There was a lot of soup we gave out to the survivors—a lot of wins, in their book. I remember seeing the smiles on their faces—all the old folks and the little kids—while they ate. But for some of us, surviving wasn’t enough. We wanted to claw our way back to the glory days—we wanted victory to mean more than just a bowl of soup. And so we began to resist.”

Yū felt his brain seize on the last word—but Kiko had beaten him to the punch. “Your Resistance.”

“The Resistance.” This time, Kurokōri’s smile felt much more natural. “Funny, isn’t it—how something so big can come from something so small?”

His gaze lingered on Kaede for the smallest of moments. The Cuisine Duelist went pink under her makeup.

“So … what were your mom and dad like?” she asked anxiously. “If Roşu’s parents had to survive so he could be a Duelist … and he said the two of you had that in common … did that mean yours were part of the Resistance, too?”

Kurokōri looked away so quickly that Kaede, young as she was, could instantly tell she’d asked the wrong question.

“I … um … I didn’t mean to … sorry,” she mumbled, scuffing her shoes against the grass.

“No—I understand.” Kurokōri reached over to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder. “And yes—they were. In their own way.” But just as quickly, his gaze turned glassy. “If it’s all right, I’d … rather not say more about that.”

Yū heard the “were”, and instantly suspected why Kurokōri had had to use the past tense at all. He could almost see the flash of violet light in those pools of yellow-green.

Jong, alone of them all, had turned her attention back to Roşu’s and Yūrei’s Duel. “There’s just one thing I want to know,” the Korean said pensively. “If Roşu said his mom and dad had something in common with your parents and Yūrei’s … then what makes his so similar?”

She was looking right at the Wight Duelist. Nobody made any move to answer her.

“Hey, Takeshi! Look who the wind blew in—it’s Yūya!”

“Yūrei, Kenji. Just because my hair looks like this doesn’t mean I’m Yūya. No matter how much I wish I was.”

“Sometimes I wish you were, too. Can you imagine the promotion my brother and I could get because of you? The Ogawa brothers—the biggest and best card dealers in Maiami City! And OTK Cards would be the go-to for every tournament in town!”

“Sounds like you’ve got one of those going on in the back room right now. How many?”

“Just enough for a pool of thirty-two. Most of them are girls. And most of them looked like they were coming in to get a look at this one boy.”

“Local celebrity?”

“I wish. Sure acts like one—foreign, though, by the look of him. Barely spoke three words when he signed up to play. Probably a transfer student—you know how the younger sorts get when one of them shows up in this town.”

“Yeah … ”

“… It’s slim pickings, Yūrei. I’m scraping to rent out this space as it is, and most of my clientele’s older than I am. All these Duel Schools … all these fancy gadgets … that’s what draws in the younger crowd these days. People just don’t appreciate the old appeal of tables and playmats anymore. I caught myself a lucky break with all these girls today, but I know a bandwagon when I see it. They’re not here for the vintage. They’re just here to window-shop.”

“Here’s to the best of both worlds, then. My usual delivery.”

“A first-print Black Hole! Still sleeved … mint condition at that … kid, how in the world did you get your hands on this?! LDS has been snapping these up for their schools’ practice Decks like they’ve been snapping up the schools! You know how much of a draw I could get if I offered this for a prize? I’d be set for rent for the rest of the year!”

“C’mon, Kenji. You can’t at least allow me a little bit of reputation?”

“I’d hate to think that reputation wasn’t as well deserved as you’ve been leading me to think, hmm?”

“ … ”

“I’m just kidding, Yūrei. Here—the usual finder’s fee for the usual delivery … and a few Protective Seal Swords of Darkness as well. Should be perfect for the Deck I’ve been hearing you’re trying to build.”

“More than perfect. I’ll shout you out when this helps me win my first championship, Kenji. Oh—hey, Takeshi!”

“Hey, Yūrei. Kenji, that foreign kid is asking for a judge. You better get in here … he doesn’t sound too happy … ”

Sakuragi Yū would have dearly loved to know what had gone through Yashiki Yūrei’s head to put the color back in his cheeks so quickly. One second, his student had been trembling where he stood after being given a history lesson he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. The next, he’d taken a breath, tensed, and pulled out his card with a “My turn! DRAW!” that sounded most unlike him.

The Wight Duelist studied his card for only a second—and played it just as quickly. “First, I’ll Summon Ghostrick Stein in Attack Position,” he cried, “and then, I’ll Reverse Summon my Ghostrick Skeleton!”

The two monsters that rose from the cold mist of Tomb World could not have looked more different from each other. Stein came first: a hulking humanoid a head taller than its Summoner and almost as wide at the shoulder, with hands that looked as though it could crush any tombstone it wanted to (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 0). It took Yū one second longer to properly see Skeleton, its bony figure skulking behind Stein in a black robe that made it harder still to see amidst the mist and darkness of the Action Field (Level 3: ATK 1200/DEF 1100).

“Ghostrick Skeleton’s effect activates when it’s flipped face-up,” Yūrei explained. “For every Ghostrick monster I control, I can banish cards from the top of your Deck, Roşu … face-down,” he added, his grin growing wide. “And since I Reverse Summoned him after I Summoned my Stein, that makes three cards banished!”

That got Yū’s eyebrows to arch an inch. Banishing cards was bad enough, even in a day when so many cards could either banish themselves, or bring such cards back. But the LDS Duelist was experienced enough to know that more often than not, banished cards could only be retrieved if they had certain qualifying characteristics—a certain Level, a certain name, and so forth—and that many of the former such cards banished face-up by default for this reason.

Banishing them face-down threw all that out the window. Roşu wouldn’t be getting those cards back any time soon, Yū knew as he watched Skeleton hurl a wicked-looking scythe directly at the Romanian. Roşu dodged it—but half a second too slow. The blade struck his Duel Disk, shaving off a trio of cards from the Deck inside—and by the time the scythe had returned to Skeleton’s hand, those cards had faded from sight forever.

By now, Yūrei’s grin was threatening to split his face in two. “And now,” he snickered, “I’m going to use my Level 3 Warwolf and Skeleton to construct the Overlay Network! GO!”

Both monsters left nothing but columns of mist in their wake as they leapt into the air, so high and so quick that in a trice, they were little more silhouettes against the crimson moon. But even before they’d reached the apex of their leap, violet energy licked at their bodies, consuming them until all physical form was lost to sight:

“Eldest of all bloodsuckers! Emerge to feed upon the fear of your enemies!”

“Xyz Summon!” Yūrei chanted. “Come forth from the shadows! Rank 3! Ghostrick Alucard!”

By the time the last word had dropped from his lips, the mass of dim purple light had darkened to a pitch black that threatened to suck all light from the world. A single thunderclap, deafening in the silent Action Field, revealed the Xyz Monster at last: a pale-skinned and -haired monster, slightly taller than Yūrei, whose black eyes and black lips glinted just enough to mark it as a vampire (Rank 3: ATK 1800/DEF 1600; ORU 2). The elegant red-and-black cape it wore snapped in a wind Yū could not feel, billowing out so much like a bat’s wings that he wondered if Alucard might just transform into one, right in front of them all.

“1800 ATK?!”

Yū rounded on Kiko. The girl was fiddling with her prosthetic hand again, her eyes scanning the field analytically.

“Roşu has no face-up monsters,” she was murmuring, “so Yūrei’s Museum Field will let him attack directly!” She blinked. “I don’t believe it—that creep’s got enough damage to win this turn!”

“Really?” Yūrei looked the picture of innocence. “Well, doesn’t that just bite?” Even he couldn’t resist sniggering at his play on words—and neither could Alucard, judging by the way his black lips had twisted in a grin. “I’d been hoping to make my combo last a little longer than this—but I’d be a bad sport to just rub it in your face, Roşu.

“Because I know what it’s like to take the low road to success, too,” he told the Romanian. His gray eyes shone like flint. “Nobody in the Wight School’s born with a silver spoon in their mouth. But that’s the point of why we were founded in the first place. Sometimes it’s all that people can do to make ends meet every day. But why should that keep their kids from enjoying Duel Monsters, too?”

Yū tilted his head. “I traded pack filler for months just to scrape together the money for these Ghostricks to see the light of day,” Yūrei went on, “and a whole year after that for this Duel Disk! I’ve got classmates whose first Decks were built from diving in dumpsters! But our school doesn’t care how poor we are—how broken our families were. As long as you have the cards to show your love for the game, that’s all that matters to us! Everything else is just one more step up the ladder to true success—and that includes this Duel!

“Now—Battle Phase!” Yūrei directed his free hand at Roşu. “Ghostrick Stein—attack his Life Points directly!”

Maybe the monster was just faster than he looked—or maybe Yūrei’s speech had struck a nerve in his opponent that Yū hadn’t thought existed. Whatever the case, Roşu moved half a second too slow; Stein shoulder-checked him into a particularly solid-looking headstone. Nothing gave way save for the mist that surrounded it, blown back several meters by the shockwave—and by the time it settled, Roşu’s LP gauge had dwindled to 1800.

But even as Roşu held the crook of an elbow to his mouth, Yū thought he’d seen something off about his eyes. For one thing, they looked far too narrow to have registered the pain that such an impact would have caused him. And he could have sworn that the red gleam they’d held for a split second was too dark to have been a reflection of the moon that illuminated the Duel, hovering far above like some sinister sentinel—and was it his imagination, or did his skin look a little paler than usual, too?

Yū glanced left and right, wondering if anyone else had seen what he had glimpsed just then—but the only ones who looked even remotely concerned were Jong and Kurokōri—and they were too busy looking at Yūrei for them to have noticed. Everyone else was watching the Duel with bated breath.

As for Yūrei himself, if he had seen the strange sight, he was far too in his element to care. “Since a monster caused battle damage,” he said, “my Museum’s effect activates, and changes that monster to face-down Defense Position—and then, since the monster that inflicted the damage was Stein, I can use his effect to add 1 Ghostrick Spell or Trap from my Deck to my hand!”

Stein—almost as if he had somehow heard his Summoner—chose that moment to slip behind a tombstone, grinning gormlessly all the while, but did not reemerge until a wide puff of mist at Yūrei’s feet betrayed the appearance of a freshly concealed card. By then, the Wight Duelist had ejected a second card from his Duel Disk, and snickered.

He stared at it for only a split second longer before returning his attention to the Duel. “It’s only right that my own vampire wins this,” he told Roşu—right before stabbing out at him with a finger. “So go for it, Alucard—attack Vladislav Roşu directly! Life-Leeching Claws!”

But scarcely had Alucard floated into the air, clawed fingers spread outwards, than Roşu had suddenly sprang into action. “Tu nu vei!” he spat, slamming the one card left to him onto his blade. “I activate Vampire Fräulein from hand! If monster declares attack, I Special Summon in Defense Position!” The mists at his feet swirled, spiraling upwards in an upside-down tornado—and then, barely a second later, Yū felt his heart skip a bear as something round, spiked, and black unfurled from within its midst, dispelling it with a dull whump.

It was only when the shape tilted downwards to face Yūrei and Alucard that he recognized it as a parasol—and by then, enough of the mist had settled down that the monster holding it could be seen: a young woman, pale, slender and impossibly tall (Level 5: ATK 600/DEF 2000), whose leathery wings had settled over her red-and-black dress so seamlessly that it took another moment for the LDS Duelist to make the distinction between body and outfit.

From behind her umbrella, Fräulein leveled a crimson gaze so piercing that Yū couldn’t blame Yūrei for hesitating. But the Wight Duelist didn’t hesitate for long. “She’s cute—I’ll give you that,” he admitted. “And that 2000 DEF would’ve foiled me any other day—except,” and he broke out into a smirk, “you forgot that I still have Rollshift on my field, Roşu! And I’ll use its effect to flip my Stein into face-up Attack Position—and your Fräulein face-down!”

Exactly how Stein had managed to hide its bulk behind the headstone from which it leapt, Yū couldn’t be sure. But leap it did—right onto Fräulein, body-slamming the undead maiden so thoroughly that no trace of her could be seen, even as the mist billowed out from the shockwave until half the field had been laid bare (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 0).

“And since you don’t have any face-up monsters on your field again,” Yūrei went on, as Alucard rose into the air for a second time, “I can replay my monster’s direct attack … and finish this Duel! GO!”

Roşu did not move until Alucard had weaved its way past his face-down monsters, so quickly that the vampire was a red-and-black blur. Then—so quickly that Yū suspected he had planned it from the very beginning—the Romanian had dropped to a knee, rolled sideways behind a half-crumbled tombstone, and reemerged just as quickly—

—with a shining card held viselike between his index and middle finger. “Action Magic: Choice of Miracle!” Roşu barked. “Damage from battle is cut in half!”

That was all he had time to say before Alucard was upon him, hissing in glee as it opened its mouth wide to show its gleaming fangs. Monster and Duelist went down together in a tangled heap, but a quick movement from Roşu threw off Alucard an instant before the fangs would have sunk into his neck—surely a killing blow, if he hadn’t been lucky enough to find that Action Card, Yū thought.

But the attack had done its work all the same; by the time Alucard had retreated back to Yūrei’s side, Roşu’s LP had drained to a mere 900. The Romanian Duelist was slow to rise to his feet; he was looking away from everyone else, and Yū wondered if he had been wounded during his tussle with the Duel Monster.

He leaned towards Miss Jong, intending to put the question to her—but the Korean seemed to have expected him to ask it before the words were on his tongue. “He’ll be all right,” she said softly. Then, more softly still: “ … I hope.”

Before Yū could ask what she meant, he was distracted by Yūrei suddenly sprinting behind a headstone. “Since my Museum changes any monster that inflicts battle damage to face-down Defense Position,” he was saying, “Alucard gets changed as well! Except”—and he reappeared just then, a second glinting shape held tightly in his fingers—“I just found the Action Card: Petrify! And by using this on Alucard, I can keep its battle position from being changed for the rest of the turn—by me or by you!”

Alucard’s body darkened as suddenly and quickly as though a cloud had passed over the moon ever so briefly. Yū was almost ready to think the monster had turned to stone before Yūrei made his next move.

“Ghostrick Alucard’s effect!” He sounded quite a bit more confident after bringing Roşu to the danger zone. “By detaching an Overlay Unit, I can target and destroy any Set card my opponent controls—”

“Counter Trap: Vampire Domination!”

For an instant, Yū wasn’t sure who had spoken. It took him a second to realize it had to have been Roşu—except the Romanian sounded nothing like his usual cold, aloof self. What he had heard just now sounded far more feral.

Yūrei took a step backwards. “What the—?”

Roşu was still crouching where he was—but even from what little he could see of him, Yū could tell something was off. The light of the Solid Vision moon was reflecting off him strangely, turning his already pale skin a nasty shade of greenish-white. Even his black hair didn’t look so black—more of a dull, tarnished silver. He looked almost as if all the color was being washed right out of him.

Jong froze. “Geuga haji anh-assdago malhaejuseyo … ” she muttered.

“If Spell or Trap or monster effect is activated,” hissed Roşu, oblivious to them all as he slowly climbed to his feet, “I negate and destroy! Then, if card destroyed was monster, I take original ATK—and gain it as Life Points!”

On the word “take”, he reached out with his free hand, made a fist—and before anyone could make heads from tails of what was going on, some invisible force had crushed Alucard into a formless mass of darkness, so quickly that its controller jumped a few feet in the air in shock. In an instant, the mass had become a long tendril of smoky shadow, squirming its way over Roşu’s hand, then his arm, and finally his whole body, obscuring him from view even as his LP jumped to 2700.

The shadows dispelled at length—revealing a Roşu who looked no worse for wear. Whatever changes Yū thought he had seen on his body were nowhere to be found. But he was no longer convinced he’d been seeing things, either. With how quiet the three girls had become—and with how much quieter than any of them Jong had been for the last few minutes—he suspected they were having the same thought.

He had only to look at Yūrei to know the truth of that. The Wight Duelist was better placed than any of them to see whatever it was that had happened to his opponent after grappling with Alucard—and he was trembling visibly from head to foot, in a way that Yū suspected had little to do with one of his strongest monsters being destroyed so easily.

“G-Ghostrick Alucard’s second effect!” Yūrei’s swallow was visible even from where he sat. “If it gets sent to the Graveyard for any reason, I can target and return 1 other Ghostrick card from my Graveyard to my hand!”

He did so … though not without needing to shake the jitters out of his fingers first. “Now for Ghostrick Stein’s second effect—once per turn, I can change it to face-down Defense Position!” With a flick of his hand, Stein disappeared behind the nearest tombstone, leaving nothing behind but a puff of mist.

Only then did Yūrei seem to relax. “One more card face-down—and I end my turn!”

The soft whoosh of his Set card dispelling the mist for a brief moment was lost in the sigh he exhaled. But it didn’t sound like a sigh of relief to Yū; as the LDS Duelist watched Roşu begin his turn, he couldn’t help but liken it to the brief lull that separated the proverbial frying pan from the fire.

“We weren’t bothering anyone, sir—honest!”

“Sorry, girls—I’m not buying it. Even if he hadn’t told us you were violating his personal space, we have a distance rule for a reason. Come back when you’ve learned to obey it.”

“But my match is in ten minutes!”

“Then you’d better use those ten minutes wisely if you still want to play it. Out. … Ugh. Kenji, I’m calling a break. I need to compose myself after this whole mess.”

“I’ll dig out the sale tags on the snacks. Again. Hey—Yūrei! Do me a favor—see if that boy wants anything. Get him some water, too; I bet he needs it.”

“On it!”

“I draw.”

Roşu spat both words through gritted teeth, as though just saying them caused him physical pain. He held the card in his hand like he’d just pulled out the knife that had caused it—and his eyes shone with a feverish light.

“You are bold for boy your age,” the Romanian said. It was hard to tell if he was directing a compliment at Yūrei—mainly because his voice was still a steely growl that sounded two steps away from openly hostile. “Too many like you think only way to victory is strength. To Duel you and your Deck … what is phrase? ‘Breath of fresh air’?”

He wasn’t smiling, though. “But skulking in shadows forever will not bring victory.” Roşu drew himself to his full height. Yū could feel the card in his hand, almost begging to be played. “Sooner or later—when time is right—one must step out into light. So, Yashiki Yūrei—I give you gift of time.”

The Wight Duelist tilted his head. “Time?”

Roşu nodded. “Let us see how long it takes”—his eyes glittered strangely—“for you to see blunder.”

And before Yūrei could so much as frown in confusion, the Romanian made his move. “Now—I Reverse Summon! Vampire Retainer, Attack Position!”

Yūrei froze. He scarcely moved a muscle as Roşu’s two-faced hound leapt onto the field as if it had broken right out of the mist-covered earth (Level 2: ATK 1200/DEF 0). Not even the feral growl Retainer loosed from its jaws—half submerged in squirming shadow—seemed to break the boy out of his stupor.

“Wha—how’d you do that?” he demanded. “My Ghostrick Night stops you from Reverse Summoning while there’s a Ghostrick on the field—both yours and mine!”

“And you have none,” Roşu said simply. “Ghostricks are not Ghostricks when face-down.”

“Huh?!” Yūrei’s jaw had gone slack—but Yū understood. The moment that a monster was switched to face-down Defense Position, it lost all the characteristics it had when it was face-up—its Type and Attribute, its ATK and DEF, its abilities … and even its very name. By doing just that with his Ghostrick Stein—no doubt to use his Rollshift to trip up Roşu again the next time he attacked, Yū suspected—Yūrei had lost the only Ghostrick on his field.

And it didn’t stop there, he knew—the Wight Duelist’s own Ghostrick Museum, and its direct-attacking effect, went both ways. Yūrei had been ensnared by his own strategy—Roşu could Reverse Summon every single monster if he wanted, and attack for the win!

… Or could he?

Yūrei, he had just seen, was smiling.

“Just kidding!” he sniggered. “Trap Card, open: Ghostrick Panic! I can target as many face-down Defense Position monsters as I want, and change them to face-up Defense Position!” And then”—he waited just long enough for his Stein (Level 3: ATK 1600/DEF 0) to jump up from the ground, and hit the field with a THUD—“for each Ghostrick monster I changed, I can change one of your monsters to face-down Defense Position! Sorry, poochie!”

But it was already too late for “poochie” to hear him; Retainer had taken one look at the hulking Stein and promptly scurried behind a headstone. Yū was almost certain it was the same grave it had used for cover the first time, too.

“What was that you were saying about no Ghostricks on the field?” Yūrei looked close to dancing where he stood.

Roşu, on the other hand, was curling his upper lip in a nasty sneer. “Vom vedea,” he said coldly. “Trap, activate: Vampire Awake! I Special Summon Vampire monster from Deck, but destroy at end of turn! I Summon Vampire Scargelet, Attack Position!” A black hole swirled beneath the mist in front of him, expelling a column of shadow … and from that, a man with white-gold hair and fine clothes that might have looked finer still were it not for the black tatters draped over his shoulders and clawed hands that sufficed for his cloak (Level 6: ATK 2200/DEF 2200).

“Scargelet effect!” Roşu threw out his hand. “When I Summon, I pay 1000 Life Points—then target and Summon Vampire monster from Graveyard! Come—Vampire Red Baron!”

The torn edges of Scargelet’s cape ripped outwards in every direction, screeching and flapping like so many bats. If Yū had been paying more attention, it might have registered that they actually were bats, swirling in the air in clouds so dense that they seemed to be darkness made whole. But from the moment Roşu had said he would be paying Life Points to use this effect, his eyes had instantly fixed themselves squarely on the Romanian.

It happened in an instant: Roşu seized up with a grunt, his skin glowing pale green and his frame bent nearly double as his life gauge dropped to 1700. Yū had expected this—his interest was only in what might happen after.

But even as Red Baron—a massive armored warrior in gilded black-and-gold armor, holding an equally gilded lance in one hand and the reins of an equally armored warhorse in the other (Level 6: ATK 2400/DEF 1000)—burst out of the ground and onto the field, trotting so slowly and deliberately that every iron-shod step it took cracked the misted earth beneath, Yū saw nothing happen—though he still kept his eyes trained on Roşu.

“Now, Red Baron effect!” boomed the Romanian. “I pay 1000 Life Points, and target 1 monster on opponent’s field and 1 other Vampire on mine—and switch control of both! I target and switch Scargelet with Stein!”

“ … What?!”

With a quick flick of its lance and a quicker look at Scargelet, Red Baron had directed its companion to walk over to Yūrei’s field—even as Scargelet’s eyes gleamed ruby-red as they zeroed in on Stein. Narrow slits turned into round pools and back again, drawing the monster under its hypnotic spell. The effect was as quick as it was brief: inside of three seconds, Stein was lumbering over to Roşu’s field, gormlessly laughing all the while.

But everyone had swiveled round to look at Kurokōri so quickly that all this had gone unnoticed—even Yūrei had devoted his full attention to the Xyz Duelist, his shock at Red Baron’s effect completely forgotten.

“He had two Level 6s!” Kurokōri muttered. “Roşu could’ve Xyz Summoned just now—why would he throw away the chance to do that? He’s got too many monsters on his field—he won’t have the chance to do it again!”

“Maybe Roşu drew another Level 6?” Kiri wondered out loud. “He hasn’t used his Normal Summon yet.”

Kaede nodded sagely. “And I bet he’d Release Stein to Advance Summon that Level 6, too.”

“Um … guys?” Kiko’s voice was trembling. “What … what’s happening to Roşu?”

A cold silence fell upon the Duel site as all present turned their eyes onto the Romanian Duelist. His LP gauge had just finished dropping to 700—but the deathly pale glow that came from paying all those Life Points to activate his monster’s effect had yet to fade, Yū now saw—even as Roşu took a deep breath, standing up so straight and stiff that it looked as if his spine was turning to stone.

He lowered his arm from his face—and Kaede screamed. Yū felt something sharp and icy clutching at his stomach.

Roşu’s face had always been pale and narrow, his jaw prominent and pointed. But even as the LDS Duelist looked on, he saw his countenance turning grayish-white and horrifically gaunt. The blood-red full moon that hung above the Duel cast long shadows over his cheekbones, throwing his mouth into sharp relief. His lips were black as chips of obsidian and very nearly as thin, creased in a snarl that showed the tips of his teeth—while his hands had grown spidery and thin inside the sleeves of his blazer, with inch-long talons sprouting from each finger.

Kaede’s knees were knocking. Her mouth worked in silent horror. “M-mommy … ” she could only say.

Kiri was shaking her head slowly, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Is this more Solid Vision?” she mumbled numbly. “Like my costume program?” She didn’t look too convinced. “I mean … he can’t actually be … can he?”

Whatever she thought Roşu might have been, no one had the opportunity to find out. For the Romanian’s eyes had snapped open—and in an instant, everyone went deathly quiet at the crimson that now filled the whites of his eyes.

“Acum vei suferi, Yashiki Yūrei,” he hissed through bared teeth. Yū felt the icy knot cinch itself tighter around his insides with every word he breathed. “You have played me fool for last time.”

“ … Hey.”

“ … ”

“They told me you might be thirsty.”

“ … ”

“ … Okay. I’ll just leave this here … all the way over here. … Um. … Right. … Anything else you need?”

“ … Marcaj.”

“ … Sorry, I don’t know a Marcus.”

“Marcaj—for book. Girls make me lose place.”

“Book … oh! Bookmark! Um … hang on … where’s some scrap paper when you need it? Ugh. Here—you can borrow one of my cards while you’re in the shop. Kenji and Takeshi sell some better ones here if you want.”

“ … Ghost … rick … Alucard?”

“Yeah. The first card I ever got made for me—and only me. I like the spooky monsters. All the things that go bump in the night. I mean, look at me—I’m pretty spooky myself, aren’t I?”

“ … Eh. Mai bine un cal sărac decât niciun cal.”

“ … I have no idea what you just said. But I’m guessing it means you’ve seen worse?”

“ … ”

“ … Oh. Right. Is, uh … is that Charlaine Harris? You like reading vampire books? Cool.”

“ … ”

“Uh … sure. Shutting up now. Leaving now. I’ll hang around the shop. If you need anything else.”

“ … ”

“We are, the both of us, creaturi de umbră,” hissed Roşu, looming so tall and thin that he might sprout wings at any time—at the moment, his appearance looked more akin to any one of the bats that flapped around his monsters than it did any human anymore. “But shadows are more than cheap costume, to skulk and scare and play pretend as you! Shadows are home—even in ruins and rot! In shadows, all alone—all naked—all helpless against all we fear!”

His rock-gray hand made a fist. “Weak succumb to shadow, as so many did in old country—in long, dark days after madman. So many saw fear in shadow—felt it in own hearts. Gone—seized … consumed. But strong of heart and will face fear, and with strength seize fear instead, and make it weapon—and so in shadow, all become stronger.

“Let me show you what I seized from shadow, Yūrei!” the Romanian growled, leering at the Wight Duelist with an utterly inhuman glare in his eye. “Let me show fear I have made my weapon! First, I Release face-down Retainer, and Advance Summon! Vampire Grace, Attack Position!”

As he slammed the card he’d drawn to start his turn onto his Duel Disk, more mist whirled at his feet, displaced by a form bigger than anything he had Summoned up to this point. Yū caught a glimpse of something vaguely conical in shape, revolving slowly as though perched atop a daïs—before it unfurled into a stately woman in a billowing cape and a dress to rival Kaede’s favorite outfit in size … if not in style. Yū doubted the Cuisine Duelist would be caught dead in the dark violet corset and gown that Grace was wearing—which, again, seemed a darkly funny thought to entertain (Level 6: ATK 2000/DEF 1200).

By now, Roşu looked almost indistinguishable from any of the undead monsters he commanded. “Now I construct Overlay Network, with Level 6 Vampire Grace and Vampire Red Baron … and Level 3 Ghostrick Stein!”

“Wait—but—he—I—just—WHAT?!”

No one answered Kaede’s spluttering exclamation. Kurokōri and Yū had leapt to their feet in unison. In the corner of his eye, the LDS Duelist saw shock written all over his Xyz counterpart’s face—from the yellow-green gaze that bugged in his head to every filed tooth in his slackened jaw. Yū didn’t doubt for a second that he looked the same.

“ … You can’t be serious!” Kurokōri managed to say. “How did he learn to do that?!”

“Learn how to do what?!” Kiko hollered. “What he’s doing isn’t just impossible—it’s illegal! No Xyz Monster can be Summoned with monsters whose Levels are different! They have to be the same!”

“And he didn’t change them with a card effect, either!” Kiri cut in. “So why is this still happening?!”

She’d gestured out to the Duel field as she’d spoken—and it was apparent at a glance that what was happening at this moment was anything but illegal. For Grace, Red Baron and Stein were all rising into the skies, mist trailing in their wake—their bodies coruscated with violet energy that licked at their limbs, consuming them piecemeal—

“Unholy hybrid of blood-red moon, return from earth to cast your shadow on world of living!”

The Romanian had raised his clawed fingers to the sky as he chanted on, as if conjuring some malediction … some perversion of the natural order. Yū thought the latter more appropriate; whatever monster Roşu was about to bring down upon Yūrei and Maiami City went against every single lesson in Xyz Summoning he’d ever learned.

And now a great hole had opened in the sky: a yawning black maw that gorged itself on all light that dared to touch it—from pale stars to crimson moon. Ebon lightning carved the heavens in every direction as the unlikely Overlay Units sailed into its core—the hungry hole swelled, filling half the sky in half a heartbeat—

“Xyz Subjugation!” Roşu roared. “Apărea! Rank 6! Al Dhampir – Vampire Sheridan!”

He made a fist, and brought his free hand down upon the earth as the mass of shadow exploded above him, revealing a blond-haired, aristocratic-looking man nearly two meters tall, swathed in fine white silk trimmed with yellow gold and lined with red velvet. The cape that draped over it all looked so black as to be made of a moonless, starless sky; its wide collar curled either side of Sheridan’s head and over the pair of skulls that armored his shoulders as though it was just as alive as the monster himself (Rank 6: ATK 2600/DEF 1000; ORU 3).

Yū swallowed. Kurokōri looked like he’d been punched in the face and offered a winning lottery ticket by the same man, in the same breath. He was swaying slightly, and seemed to have no idea where he was—though that was still more than could be said for Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri; all three of them stood on wobbly legs, petrified by the sight.

“Incredible … ” was the only word Yū could catch the Xyz Duelist saying.

Yūrei, for his part, looked even more flabbergasted by this impossible monster as it drifted down to earth, stopping just a few feet above the misty ground. He was even more incredulous than Kurokōri.

“Dude … ” He shook his head, hoping against hope that he was dreaming. “ … How in the world did you do that?”

Alone of them all, Jong Bo-Yeon remained unmoved, sitting as quietly as ever—but looking all the tenser for it.

“Xyz Subjugation,” she explained. “That’s not its official name—it’s not nearly practiced wide enough for that. It’s only used by Roşu, so far as I know—he created it, he named it … and I’d be the first person to know if anyone else deserved to learn it from him.” She sniffed, eyeing Yūrei. “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

Kiko found her voice. “Wait—so Roşu created a whole type of Xyz Summoning?!”

Jong nodded, turning to her newfound friends. “His Xyz Monsters come with a unique Summoning condition: if he controls a monster with a Level, but the opponent owns that monster, then Roşu’s able to use it as an Overlay Unit for one of those Xyz Monsters, regardless of what their Level ever was on the field.”

“Jeez … ” Kiri let fly with a wheeze of a sigh as she flumped down on the grass. “What am I doing with my life, if other Duelists are going off and not just making Decks—but whole new ways to bring out the monsters in them?”

“Don’t get too excited,” the Korean cautioned her. “Your Deck is more than just a product of your imagination. It’s the sum total of your experiences in life. Far too often, I see Duelists use cards based on their memories, their secret desires—everything they wish they could be. But Roşu’s Deck is … not.”

“What’s his Deck based on, then?” But even as Kaede voiced her question, the look on her face told Yū that she had just gotten the same answer he did. The Cuisine Duelist went pale, her round face slowly deflating.

“Fear.”

Miss Jong spoke the single word as if it was the be-all, end-all to all of their questions. “That’s Roşu’s gimmick. In his mind, it’s better to be feared than to be respected—or even to be admired,” she added blithely. “He took his fear of being consumed by the crumbling country his parents were raised in—that he himself lived in—mixed it with the daily struggle they endured just to survive … and turned it into a weapon only he can wield.”

“Because who else could?” Understanding flickered on Kurokōri’s face. In retrospect, Yū wasn’t shocked that he—out of everyone here—was the first to voice the thought. He refrained from adding, “Who else would want to?”

Jong laid down against the grass. “LDS’ Bucharest branch specializes in what you might call psychological warfare. Tactics and devices designed specifically to weaken the enemy’s mind and morale,” she elaborated, perhaps seeing the blank expression each of the girls shared. “If you apply them to Duel Monsters, they can be used to increase the chances of your opponent making a misplay. When they make an error—wrong monster to attack, the wrong card to activate or effect to chain—it allows the Duelist to slide in through the opening, and begin their strike for the kill.”

Kaede took in Roşu’s grotesque figure with wide eyes. “So that really is just Solid Vision? He’s not actually a real-life vampire?”

Jong made a so-so gesture with her hand. “It’s hard light, yes, but that’s not the most important piece of the puzzle. See, what makes psychological warfare work isn’t the weapon—it’s the mind and body that’s wielding it. It’s a bit like performance art—you slip into a costume, you become the role you play in whatever scene you’re acting out.”

“Like a cosplay?” Kiri wondered. “Or a LARP?”

“More than that.” The Korean curled her lip. “Cosplay implies that your audience already has an idea of who you are, or what you’re doing. The same is true for live-action role-play. Performance art is different—more abstract. You’re not simply dressing up in a costume—you’re transforming yourself into the personification of an entire idea. It’s a tough medium of art to master—and I’m sorry to say it’s something I have very little patience with. It can be … difficult to take in, especially for the younger audiences. It can shock, it can disgust, and it can even—”

She broke off, considering, then shook her head. “Never mind. The point is that people who aren’t in the know can take one look at what you’re doing, and decide you’ve gone mad.”

“So let me see if I got this straight,” Yū decided now was a good time to speak. “Vladislav Roşu is performing as his own fear—his determination?” This is supposed to be an exhibition of Dueling, not of modern art, he thought. “And he’s doing this … why? To freak Yūrei out—to force him into making the wrong play?”

“No. He’s already done that.” And Jong said it so casually, so bluntly, that Yū felt his mouth snap shut against his will. “Now that Yūrei knows what we know—what Roşu looks like in the dark—Roşu will try to find out the same of him. And he won’t do it quickly, either—he’ll take as much time as he’s got to find the answer that satisfies him.

“So you might as well make yourself comfortable, Sakuragi,” she sighed from where she lay. “This Duel’s over.”

“Sheridan effect!” Roşu boomed. “I detach Overlay Unit, then target your Rollshift and destroy! Begone!”

Yū faintly saw an echo of Stein separating from its parent monster with a mournful noise, before fading completely. One second later, Sheridan flicked his wrist, conjuring a whip of shadow that sheared through Yūrei’s precious Trap in the time it took to blink—and a large number of headstones in the immediate vicinity, Yū couldn’t help noticing.

He felt a chill.

“Now, no more Ghostricks on field.” It was hard to tell between the dim light and the way Roşu’s Solid Vision was interacting with it—but Yū was ready to think the Romanian had smirked at this, just for an instant. “Your Night is useless—nowhere to hide now. So—I Reverse Summon! Vampire Grimson, Vampire Fräulein, Attack Position!”

This time it was two tendrils of mist that snaked upwards from the ground, either side of Sheridan. Within moments they had dispelled, revealing the solemn, slender waif that was Fräulein, parasol draped over one winged shoulder (Level 5: ATK 600/DEF 2000), and the sinister, gaunt Grimson, her gray-blue visage half hidden behind her hood and mask as she readied her scythe for a killing blow (Level 5: ATK 2000/DEF 1400).

Four pairs of blood-red eyes—only three of which were light made solid—now fixed themselves on a Yashiki Yūrei who looked as though his legs had turned to marshmallow. A deer in the headlights all over again, Yū thought.

“Aleargă, băieţel.” Roşu’s dark lips dripped with malice. “Ghosts and tricks no more use now. Battle Phase!”

The two words jolted the Wight Duelist as if he’d been electrocuted—and he tore off through the endless graveyard of Tomb World, looking left and right for anything that even betrayed the slightest glint of hard-light salvation.

But by then, Roşu had already stabbed out at Yūrei with a talon-tipped finger. “Vampire Grimson, destroy enemy Scargelet—but first, second effect of Fräulein! Once per battle, if Vampire battles opponent’s monster, I pay Life Points up to 3000, and battling Vampire gains that much ATK and DEF for battle! I pay 600 LP!”

What happened next gave Yū a bizarre urge to yell out for Kaede to cover her eyes. Fräulein had drifted over to Scargelet as lightly as if she weighed less than the mist that covered her feet. Their blood-red eyes locked—

—and then Fräulein, inches away, hooked one arm around Scargelet’s midsection, using the other to pull at his hair, exposing his neck. Gleaming fangs sank into his neck—the luckless vampire went limp—

SLASH.

Grimson’s scythe sang in the cold air as it impaled the helpless Scargelet in his hip. Scarcely had her point gauge swelled to 2600/2000 before both halves of the vampire collapsed at her feet—but Grimson didn’t linger. Within an instant she was airborne again, making a beeline for Yūrei, who’d ducked behind a tombstone—but to no avail. One more SLASH later, and it was the Wight Duelist who was sailing through the air this time. The force of the slice had carved through the grave marker as easily as it had Scargelet, and caught Yūrei in the shockwave.

He fell to earth in a heap, his LP gauge at 2400. “Domain effect,” Roşu said with grim finality. “If Vampire inflicts battle damage, I gain equal LP.” A pale glow settled over his body, but not so bright that it could have gotten rid of the glamour that had transformed him. But even as his own life gauge climbed up to 500—for he had deliberately brought himself to the precipice of 100 in order to use Fräulein’s effect—Yūrei was climbing to his feet.

“When you … d-destroyed Alucard,” he coughed, “I used its effect to—to return Ghostrick Mary to my hand. And since I took battle damage, I c-can discard Mary—and Special Summon a Ghostrick monster from my Deck in face-down Defense Position! And Museum’s effect will put Grimson back—”

“—in face-down Defense Position.” Roşu hardly even flinched at the maiden in the mirror as her shade rose behind Grimson, ever so silently—and let fly with an echoing wail that sent the vampire sprawling onto the mist-shrouded ground, never to rise again. “Will not help. Other effect of Museum allows direct attacks if all enemies face-down.”

He folded his arms against his chest as Yūrei’s mouth fell open. “I told you—ghosts and tricks no more use now.”

Yū just barely managed to keep himself from nodding with him. Roşu had forced his protégé into a truly nasty fork: in flipping his Ghostrick Stein face-down to use with his Rollshift’s effect, Yūrei had allowed the Romanian a brief window where he could Reverse Summon any monster he wanted. That this monster had been Retainer had been proof of his feint—Roşu had used the weakest card on his field to bait Yūrei into revealing his Panic too early. At that moment, it wouldn’t have mattered what position Stein had been in—without anything to disrupt his opponent’s field even further, Yūrei’s Deck had no answer to the overwhelming strength it had held at bay up until now.

I wonder what he’s like at chess, the LDS Duelist thought. The way he’d turned Yūrei’s entire field against the boy had been done with the ease of a seasoned veteran of the board game. I bet even I’d have a hard time against him.

Roşu lifted his hand—and so did his Xyz Monster. “Vampire Sheridan—direct attack. Strânsoarea Sângelui!”

Yūrei’s hands snapped to his sides, as if suddenly bound to them by invisible ropes. His legs stiffened and locked so swiftly that he might have been ordered to stand at attention. His gray eyes were round as coins.

Then—Yū felt his blood run cold—Fräulein walked toward the doomed Wight Duelist slowly, almost tantalizingly. Instinctively, he looked at Kaede. The Cuisine Duelist was trembling from head to foot; she knew what was about to happen next, he realized. So did Yūrei, it seemed; he was struggling against bonds he could neither see nor feel, even as the vampire continued to approach him with hunger in her eyes.

Sheridan angled his outstretched wrist slightly, a red-black cloud enveloping his gloved hand as his ATK climbed to 3000—and before Yū had registered Roşu’s LP falling to 100 a second time, Yūrei yelped as his feet left the ground, his body rising until he was neck-and-neck with Fräulein. She darted—

Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri all squealed. Though the hands they’d clapped to their mouths had muffled them somewhat, it didn’t make the sight of Fräulein biting into Yūrei’s neck any less gruesome. The boy was so thoroughly petrified that he didn’t even cry out in pain. Yū wondered if he even could.

It seemed to take an eternity for Fräulein to pull back from him. But by the time she did, the twin punctures she had left in Yūrei’s neck were visible to all—slits of black the size of a pinkie nail that leaked scarlet drops. Yet even as they looked on, those drops of blood became a trickle … and then a silent stream.

And with another flick of the wrist from Sheridan, that stream twisted into a long, liquid thread, winding through the air and straight for the vampire. The instant it made contact, Yūrei’s life gauge blipped over him, reading 2300—

—2200—

—2100—

Yū felt sick as he watched the LP drain past 2000. “Savurează gustul,” Roşu hissed. He clamped his fist tighter, and his monster followed suit. Yūrei could only manage a helpless rasp. His face was purple—the LDS Duelist realized that Sheridan was strangling the boy right before their eyes—

—1500—1400—1300—

“Jong.” Yū crept over to where she sat. “Jong, he’s proved his point. He can stop now.” But the Korean was far too mesmerized by the grotesque spectacle to register a single word he said. Kurokōri proved no better—the Xyz Duelist’s eyes were shining with such an intense light that it was clear he was imagining Roşu doing the same thing to one of Academia’s footsoldiers.

—900—800—700—

“S … st—sto—p … ”

How Yūrei could speak at this point was a miracle. But he had—and perhaps it was this that brought Kaede to her feet. “That’s enough!” she yelled at Roşu, stamping her heel on the grass. “Put him down now, you big bully!”

The Romanian turned slowly to regard her. “Please—stop!!” Kaede almost screamed the last word—and that was to the worse for Yū. For he’d seen Yūrei’s lips move just then, and muster enough air to gasp out a single word he could not hear. But Roşu had heard; he was much closer to Yūrei, and therefore well within his ability to do so.

And whatever Yūrei had said made him whirl on the boy, his bloodshot eyes wider than Yū had ever seen them.

Then, as if the Wight Duelist had uttered some kind of magic spell, Sheridan released him from his crushing grip—though none too gently. The boy was thrown back some five meters before he crashed into a particularly large and unyielding tombstone, and slumped against its edifice in a heap, unconscious. His LP gauge cut the suddenly silent Action Field with a shriek—it had finally been depleted to zero, far more slowly than anyone had expected.

But for the first time, nobody—not even Kurokōri—seemed to care.

“ … Aştepta.”

“Hm?”

“ … How you know of writer?”

“Who—Harris? I know her books got made for TV. The TV got left on a lot during the night. I’d sneak peeks at it when I was little. I like stuff that’s got undead and stuff in it—all those really old films with mummies, vampires, or Frankenstein’s monster—those were my childhood. I liked them enough that I started making a Deck after them.”

“And?”

“It’ll be a … a while. Having your own Deck is easy. Making your own … isn’t.”

“Mm. Books better, anyway. Maybe read, next time you design, hm?”

“As if. I’ve seen the books those movies were made from. I’m not old enough to read those yet.”

“Who says? Teachers? Parents? Ei te limitează. Only limit in life is you. Only you.”

“You don’t know my life. You don’t know what other people go through every day.”

“Hm. Try me. I am good listener. One more reason why books better.”

“Okay, boys—break’s almost up. I’ll be letting the players back in shortly. You good to go over there? … Great. Best thing I’ve heard all afternoon. C’mon, Yūrei—I’ll ring up your order.”

“Thanks, Kenji. I’ll be right out. … Guess I’ll see you around, Mr. … um … Mister.”

“ … Roşu. Just Roşu. For now.”

“ … What do you mean, for now?”

“Five blocks west, two blocks north, is bookstore. I browse before Sunday morning practice. Talk more then?”

“ … Um. Uh, sure—yeah, I’d like that. I’m Yūrei—by the way. Yashiki Yūrei. I’ll see you then, Roe-shu!”

“ … eh. Close enough.”

No one moved. Nearly a full minute had passed after the Action Field had become nothing more than an unpleasant memory, and the pleasant sunny day in Maiami City had returned to them, before anyone thought to even stand.

Roşu—all ten fingers well manicured, his skin as pale as ever, his hair as black as before, and his eyes back to their dark and narrow self—was bent over Yūrei, whispering something in his ear. A few minutes later, Yū slumped in relief as his protégé raised an arm, grasped the Romanian’s outstretched hand, and hauled himself to his feet.

Then, quite abruptly, the Wight Duelist switched off his Duel Disk, and trotted away. Jong met him halfway, on her way to Roşu—but Yūrei either did not know or did not care that she was passing by. He blew right past the Korean, half walking, half running past them all. Yū made as if to stop him, but a long, wet sniff stopped him in his tracks.

His brain suddenly felt very foggy. Yūrei was crying.

“Where’re you going?” But Kaede might as well have talked to one of Tomb World’s gravestones for all the answer she got. The Wight Duelist had broken into a jog, determinedly not looking at anyone around him as he sped away.

Jong rounded on Roşu, fury in her face. If he had waited one second longer, Yū thought she might have punched the Romanian’s lights out. But as it was, he’d held up a hand as she’d walked up, and muttered something in her ear. In less than a second, whatever he’d said to her made her body go slack. She’d wheeled around, her almond eyes wide with worry—but by then, Yūrei had disappeared into the park.

“ … O-o-okay.” Kurokōri rose from his own seat on the hillside, plucking stray blades off his clothes. “That, uh … that could’ve gone better,” he said, rather lamely. “Might be best if we leave it here for today. Girls”—he nodded over at Kaede, Kiko, and Kiri—“you all Dueled amazingly out there. You can stick around if you like, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go. I’ll find Sakuragi later—he can reach out to you once I’ve made my decision on our new Resistance. Oh—Kiri, feel free to linger if you still want to show me more of that costume of yours.”

The Blue Sea Duelist managed a small smile. She was still looking at where Yūrei had run off.

“What about the rest of us?” Yū asked.

“I’ll hang around them for a while longer.” Kurokōri was eyeing Jong and Roşu. “You, though … you’d better find your kid student. I don’t know what got into him, but I feel like you’re the first person he needs right now.”

Yū frowned. “I’d love to know why myself. I’ve never seen Yūrei act like that in all the time I’ve known him.”

“Well, for his sake, I hope he won’t again,” Kurokōri said cautiously. “I got a good look at his face before he sped off. Yūrei wasn’t crying because he was hurt, Sakuragi. Something about that Duel got to him—and I don’t think it’s that he lost.” He was looking longer at Roşu now. The Romanian’s brow was furrowed in concern.

Before Yū could ponder on that, his Duel Disk suddenly began buzzing—someone was trying to contact him. He pressed the screen to pull up his chat function, hoping it might be Yūrei.

It wasn’t.

My office. Now. Come alone.

The sender said only “Private Account”—but that was enough for Sakuragi Yū to feel the color drain from his face, and start sweating as though he’d just run a marathon in the snow. Even before he’d turned to the giant crystalline skyscraper that housed the Leo Duel School, and the upper floors that housed the office space of the top executives of the Leo Corporation, he could almost feel the pair of ice-blue eyes that lorded over Maiami City—almost see the heart-shaped face they were set in.

And he felt, even now, as though he was being physically dragged to that familiarly opulent office … from where its current resident had no doubt seen everything.

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