The king's head is on his torso.
._._.
Domino City Courthouse is many things: it is large, it is dignified, and in the central lobby, it is loud. Yuugi had been here twice before as a child, with his father and his grandfather, years apart. The first of these had occurred when mother and father had both been out of town for a wedding Yuugi was too young to properly ‘enjoy,’ and he’d been left to his grandfather’s care. It was before Yuugi and his mother had moved into the shop, and he hadn’t known his grandfather too well before the incident – a robbery at the Turtle Game Shop. After grandfather had identified the thief at the detention center, he had for some reason thought that Yuugi would appreciate knowing how the judicial system functioned.
Yuugi was six. It was a disaster.
After that incident, grandfather had refused to take Yuugi anywhere without at least one of his parents along for the ride, until Yuugi was eleven.
The courthouse was much louder now – and they were only walking up the staircase, not even having entered the domed building that was architecturally designed to amplify the sound and silence. Yuugi’s ears were wincing in preparation for the way all this noise would echo in his mind once they entered those tall, ominous doors, should the reporters ever clear the path and let them through!
It had been a year or so before his father’s death that he and Yuugi were brought in to trial on a case of attempted kidnapping – Yuugi’s. It had been summer, and the courthouse had been dark and cool despite the heat. Yuugi had been so nervous on the witness stand that he’d first accused the defense attorney of being the criminal. It wasn’t Yuugi’s fault – they were both Adults in Suits, and Yuugi’s assailant had been masked. The real problem of the case had been whether Yuugi’s father disabling the attacker by way of throwing knives fell within the realm of reasonable retaliation. As it turned out, the counterattack only barely counted as reasonable because the blade of the knife was less than seven inches, and Yuugi was an only son. That was one of the few occasions Yuugi thought his life wouldn’t have been easier as a girl.
This time, though, there were no paternal figures trying to comfort Yuugi when he’d done something wrong, and the government workers certainly weren’t looking at him with sympathy. There certainly hadn’t been even a full percentage of this many reporters at the other two occasions combined, or such a variety of gawking civilians.
Yuugi was trailing slightly behind his defense attorney, some hotshot Yuugi had obviously never heard of named Hoshikage Shin. Kaiba would not personally accompany Yuugi at this ‘trial of the century,’ no matter how much assurance they had of victory – directly tying the image of KaibaCorp to Yuugi, Kaiba had explained, would make Yuugi appear less credible because, of course, Kaiba could buy the entire Domino Justice Department if he wanted. Yuugi did not doubt that Kaiba would, should he or even Mokuba get in legal trouble.
Yuugi was glad that Kaiba had thought to send along some bodyguards for Yuugi, as the reporters kept trying to mob Yuugi and extract from him a pre-trial confession, and there were a great deal more teenage girls in the crowd than should be acceptable for a weekday morning. The girls had taken to throwing ballerina slippers at Yuugi, the unusual accessory Hikari had apparently donned before shooting everyone dead (not, of course, that they knew that last part).
The other Yuugi remained within the Puzzle, though Yuugi could almost feel the vigilance the other focused on their surroundings, almost able to hear more clearly through Yuugi’s ears than even Yuugi could. Yuugi was sure his tormentors were frustrated that he’d been able to dodge what few slippers that made it past the guard surrounding him. The other Yuugi could not, however, prevent the acidic words that were shouted and that echoed all around him – cries of “murderer!” and “die, you fucker!” and other such things.
They had made it through the main foyer unscathed save for minor hearing loss, and finally security started turning away their swarm of hecklers, reporters, and paparazzi. For a trial with this much public scrutiny, Mokuba had mentioned in the ride over, the police had actually signed a distribution deal with one of the big television stations. Channel D’Rage had exclusive broadcasting rights; other news outlets couldn’t get anywhere near the courtroom in which the trial would be held, but staking out the courthouse itself wasn’t prohibited.
“I know you’re nervous,” said Hoshikage as they passed into the lobby outside courtroom seven; the area was still more crowded than it should be for even a normal murder trial, but it was significantly smaller than the mob they’d had to fight through to get there, and the figures here were much more intimidating to Yuugi’s situation. “Just remember – you’re innocent, and as long as you believe we can prove it, we can.”
When Kaiba had promised Yuugi the best defense possible, Hoshikage was not exactly the sort of character Yuugi would ever have expected. Oh, he was professional, diligent, and most definitely qualified, but Yuugi would not have imagined being defended by someone so... well, someone who looked so awkward. Hoshikage Shin was a ridiculously tall man even for a Westerner (not that he was one), and he was scrawny, bearing all the muscle mass of a flagpole. He couldn’t be any older than thirty, probably not even twenty-seven, and his entire appearance seemed to scream “giraffe” to Yuugi – his limbs were too long and too thin, his facial features too narrow, and when his elbows or knees pressed into the fabric of his not too exceedingly well-crafted suit, the joints looked so obscenely large that it appeared as though the man were smuggling a collection of doorknobs into the courtroom.
Hell, Hoshikage even sounded like the voice actor for Kin Kirin, the alchemist giraffe from Yuugi’s favorite television show as a child, “Magical Fondue Coaster Mansion”: mildly pitched and highly comforting. Yuugi hoped that there were no other similarities between his attorney and the puppet scientist: Kin Kirin had been using his skills in alchemy in an attempt to kill the other characters on the show since none of them believed in science, though he was always thwarted. (Thus the title, “Magical Fondue Coaster Mansion.”)
When Hoshikage promised Yuugi that they would win the case, Yuugi couldn’t find the ability to doubt, but he did worry about how they would do it. Yuugi was afraid that Kaiba might have falsified the evidence, which would defeat the whole purpose of subjecting himself to the court of law in the first place! Hoshikage was probably expecting a response, so Yuugi forced a smile and nodded, craning his neck to meet his lawyer’s gaze.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just...” he said slowly, “I don’t even know what’s going to happen in there! I mean—” Yuugi’s brief glance around the room had picked up no familiar faces – but who was that in the cosplay wig? It looked expensive – and such isolation was still daunting to him. “—I don’t know what you could have found that would prove that she killed herself. Is it even possible to tell with the way she—”
Aibou, you’re rambling, the other Yuugi murmured in their heart, and Yuugi could feel him press against the cataract barrier between their minds, faintly physical. Yuugi pressed back gently, allowing that presence and gesture to comfort him and sooth his nerves.
“—Sorry,” he said, looking up at his attorney; Hoshikage, however, didn’t seem to have heard Yuugi, for his gaze was fixed steadily at a point across the room. Yuugi did not have time to ask what was so fascinating, for Kaiba Mokuba was approaching from a different direction with an all too common look on his face: tightened cheeks and a slightly downcast turn of the gaze.
“Mokuba-kun, what’s going on?” Yuugi asked, letting his worry color his voice. Mokuba shook his head, still glowering as he came to their very small clustering by some unnoticed wrought-iron chairs that had been bolted to the floor.
“I just saw the prosecution’s witness list. It’s not good.”
“What do they have,” asked Hoshikage, turning his attention to Mokuba swiftly, “quack doctors with falsified autopsies?”
“Probably, I didn’t check that,” said Mokuba, his attention barely diverted by the question; “they’ve got a name on there that shouldn’t be there. It’s bad. It’s really bad. It’s leagues beyond bad.”
Yuugi, understandably, was more than a touch confused at Mokuba’s rising panic. “What’s wrong? Who is it?”
“Remember big brother’s file?”
The fear was instant, and Yuugi’s body was filled with ice and terror. Fuck!
“But... but I thought Kaiba-kun—”
“He did! ” hissed Mokuba, defensive as if it was he himself taking the insult, “but we weren’t expecting anyone to recover! And certainly not testify!”
Impossible! Nothing can break a Penalty Game—
Unless they actually learned from the penalty, right? Isn’t that what you told me?
Well, yes, but no one ever has before!
... what about Kaiba?
... it’s exceedingly rare. Not many have the strength of heart to overcome such trials.
“Who?” Yuugi asked, pulling out of their thoughts and not at all liking where this was going, or the sudden hand holding his shoulder. Hoshikage, Yuugi was sure, had not been told about Kaiba’s ‘list.’
“Souzouji Minoru—”
“But Kaiba-kun said—”
“I know what big brother said,” Mokuba spat out tersely, his body wrought with tension and anger, “and that name’s on the list of witnesses. Be glad that I told you before you freak out when he takes the stand!” Yuugi did not flinch under Mokuba’s harsh tone, but he felt angry with himself regardless of the fact that he was being reprimanded by a ten-year-old brat. Yuugi was glad that Souzouji had gotten better, but... he was sure that as soon as it came out the he’d driven the other boy crazy, then everything else could possibly come out, including exploding a guy with dynamite over carnival games. Yuugi was sure that after finding out about that, no court would have difficulty finding that of course he had motive to kill two pop stars – he was a psychopath! That’s what psychopaths do! The case would close with Yuugi in the electric chair, or the hangman’s noose, or whatever it was that they used to kill people these days. Yuugi clenched his hands into weak fists to stop them from shaking.
His was a weak penalty, the other Yuugi added, quietly, but still, I did not expect... aibou, for all this... I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry, Mokuba-kun,” Yuugi said quietly, “I didn’t mean to snap at you...”
Mokuba just waved him off, shaking his head. “Hoshikage-san, I need to fill you in—”
“No,” Yuugi cut in, his voice shaking, “I will, I’ll—”
But Yuugi could not explain the Dark Games, or how utterly terrible it was for there to be that classmate as a witness: one of the bailiffs had intruded upon their small triangle, a burly, walrus-like man with only a half-circle of white hair encompassing his skull like a laurel woven from silk. The bailiff led them into the courtroom proper, directing them to their table beneath the towering presence that was the bench and podium of the Judge. Yuugi numbly drifted to his seat, Hoshikage Shin following next to Yuugi with a reassuring smile that faltered as he lowered into his seat until it was painful to even ignore, and Mokuba moved into the ‘public’ pews.
The prosecuting attorney entered, a man so trim and straight that Yuugi instantly thought of rockets, and bullets, and Yuugi’s hand shook and nearly jerked to cover the round scar on his shoulder that lay hidden beneath his borrowed suit. The man that took his seat next to the attorney was a foreigner, a man well into his fifties, but well cared for and strong; everything about the man’s appearance shouted to Yuugi of both money and vanity. The man’s hair, bleached into a variety of shades of blond, was cut in a slightly messy bowl, the hair coming to just shy of the top of his smooth jaw. His suit looked as though he had worn it off the set of a stage production of some Victorian comedy, the reds of it dark and some crushed material that, even at a distance, looked slightly fuzzed; velvet? Yuugi couldn’t be sure, having never taken a particular interest in fabrics. The man’s face, too, showed a complexion that was too even to be natural, and touches of it wore subdued color to make him look younger.
Yuugi had seen the man several times before, but now he could only remember him from a single picture, in which all the people captured looked too ridiculously made-up and overdone for it to simply be a normal family’s portrait; Sasori Tadashi glared at Yuugi with fire and hatred and a sick sort of glee that Yuugi couldn’t identify but made him shiver internally all the same.
The courtroom filled with dull noise as bailiffs and security and stenographers and cameramen finished setting up their stations and equipment, and as family and reporters and politicians began filling the pews. Yuugi did not turn to seek out his mother’s rigidly calm face, or his grandfather’s appraising gaze to determine how much Yuugi had changed in the past weeks, or find Grandmother Kameyo hidden in plain sight. He did not see Anzu and Honda, sitting side-by-side, watching Yuugi with a conflicting mixture of hope and despair.
He would not have recognized them based on prior meetings, but had Yuugi looked around the room, his gaze would have rested on a family of three sitting near Mokuba; the adults of the family were glaring at Yuugi, the woman very calm while her husband was shaking with some repressed emotion. It was not these two, though, that would have captured Yuugi’s attention: it would have been the girl sitting between them. She would have looked familiar to Yuugi, had he looked, but he would know he’d never be able to tell where he had seen her before for the bandages around the entire top half of her face – was she blind, or merely injured?
As it was, Yuugi did not see any of these people, could not feel their hatred or sense of relief or betrayal or belief in him, could not see them at all, for his gaze was turned downward to where the other Yuugi had materialized, kneeled by Yuugi’s side, the other’s hands and Yuugi’s folded together on his upper thigh.
I’m so sorry, the other Yuugi murmured, and Yuugi could feel the other’s worry and fear seeping into his own marrow, it’s all because of me, for everything, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—
“Other me, I forgive you, it’s okay,” Yuugi whispered, his lips barely moving and the words almost inaudible and necessarily so. Yuugi turned his gaze up momentarily before focusing on his lap and their entwined hands, his gaze occasionally darting to the other Yuugi; he dared not stare into the otherwise empty space his other self inhabited, for worry of notice by the hundred plus people around him. “We’ll pull through this. We have to believe we’ll get through this. It’s a game, too, remember?”
After a moment of silence the other Yuugi seemed to calm, and his apologies ceased. At the following summons, Yuugi too rose to his feet when the walrus of a bailiff called, his attention landing on the entering robed man. He was a small and seemingly frail elderly fellow, whose bones pressed so sharply against the skin of his face that Yuugi wondered if his skeleton was so anxious for death that it would leap out of its cage of muscle and skin should someone merely cough in the Judge’s vicinity. The cameras were already rolling, and so began the trial of Mutou Yuugi.
._._.
“Court is now in session in the case of the City of Domino versus Mutou Yuugi on the charge of unpremeditated triple homicide. How does the defense plead?” The voice of the Judge was a deep, commanding bass, and it shattered Yuugi’s initial perception of a man staring death in the face. Well, that wasn’t exactly true: the man stared at death without fear, but not submissively; it was the voice of someone who would not hesitate to get into a knife fight with God if the latter stepped out of line. Yuugi probably would stutter out his ‘not guilty,’ had his attorney not done so for him without the slightest hesitation or weakness in voice.
“The defense pleads ‘not guilty’ of all charges, Your Honor.” The Judge had to slam down his gavel repeatedly at the sudden collective cry of outrage and disbelief from the courtroom at large.
“Order!” he called out, pulling out the proverbial knife against his opponent. “The court recognizes the defense’s plea. Will the prosecution now start so that this mockery of justice can be done with as quickly as possible?”
“He’s always like that,” Hoshikage whispered to Yuugi quietly while the prosecutor began detailing how the police had found and seen the crime scene, with Yuugi the only survivor. “He’s probably the best Judge the city has, but likes claiming that any justice department that has him as the top judge must have something wrong with it.”
Yuugi wasn’t sure how to react to the light-hearted distraction, and instead refocused on the prosecutor’s monologue.
“—cers Sasaki and Satou arrived at the apartment of Sasori Hikari and Hebi, two school girls famous for their roles in such blockbuster classics as ‘The Girl Who Could Do Anything Except Reunite Her Estranged Parents,’ and ‘If You Only Live Once, Wear Only Beautiful Shoes.’ When police arrived at the scene, they found four high school students, only one of which was still alive.
“Those teenagers were: Jounouchi Katsuya, age fifteen, had a record of gang-related criminal history but has since become a hard-working student. Autopsy reports indicate that after suffering a severe wound to the gut, the boy bled to death. Sasori Hebi, fourteen years old, honor student and pop idol, was shot once in the temple at point-blank range and died instantly. Sasori Hikari, also fourteen, was assaulted with a knife and died from blood loss resulting from a slit jugular. The fourth and only other person in the apartment was none other than Mutou Yuugi, age sixteen, who suffered only from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his left shoulder—”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Hoshikage called, glaring at the prosecutor. “There’s no indication in the medical records that the wound Mutou-san suffered was self-inflicted.”
“Objection sustained. Please strike ‘self-inflicted’ from the record.”
“... As I was saying,” the prosecutor cut in snidely, “Mutou suffered only from a likely self-inflicted gunshot wound to his left shoulder. Both murder weapons – the knife and gun – were found on the scene, and there were no signs of forced entry or escape. It is not difficult to imagine what happened – and not difficult to see Mutou-san’s guilt in this matter.” The prosecutor looked like a fox, sleek and cunning; Yuugi was not comforted by this realization.
Hoshikage stood next, to give his opening statement, but Yuugi couldn’t focus on the words – Sasori Tadashi and Prosecutor-the-Fox whose name Yuugi had not caught earlier were going over some official-looking documents with a sort of thoroughness that begot a sort of joy in their closed-off faces.
If you want, said the other Yuugi, rising on his knees and following Yuugi’s gaze, I could go look.
“We have to trust our allies,” Yuugi whispered with barely moving lips, his gaze going back up to Hoshikage, who was going on about Yuugi’s passive nature, lack of motive, and the lack of physical evidence that he committed the crimes. Yuugi turned his attention back to his lap. “We have to trust that Hoshikage-san will win, that Kaiba-kun’s team’s evidence is enough. I’d rather we lose than cheat justice.”
The other Yuugi said nothing to this as the first witness was called to the stand. Instead, he dissolved back into shadow and retreated to Yuugi, and Yuugi welcomed the presence within himself once more. Officer Satou – the limping cop that had arrested Yuugi – sounded much more steady on the witness stand than he had in the interrogation room during Yuugi’s questioning.
“It was around half past three in the morning when we got the call – graveyard shift. The woman says she’s hearing some gunshots from the floor below. My partner and I, we head out to the crime scene – it’s a rougher neighborhood than most, there’d been a bunch of dead hobos turning up around there, so Sasaki and I were hoping we’d gotten a lead on that case. Took a bit under half an hour to get there, arrived around four, and when we got there, we knew it was something else entirely.”
Even though Yuugi had been in the back of their mind then, he clearly remembered Satou and Sasaki break down the door in their haste to get to the scene. It had seemed a bit of an overreaction, now that Yuugi thought about it, considering they hadn’t once shouted a warning that they were coming in.
“We get into the flat, and the first thing I see is Sasori Hebi, dead on the couch, everything soaked in blood. There were two bodies on the floor – Sasori Hikari, the other star, was on the ground closer to the door, and the third we didn’t see until we actually went into the room, because Jounouchi-san was behind the couch. When we went in, we’d no idea who the girls were. Anyway, the two people on the floor were dead, the girl on the couch was dead, and there was a kid standing behind the couch covered in blood. The kid was watching us – we’d broken down the door, and he looked startled – and he said ‘good morning.’ Good morning? What sane person says ‘good morning’ when surrounded by dead people? Oh, and the kid was bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound.”
“And this ‘kid’ you saw,” prodded the prosecutor, “was the accused?”
Satou nodded instantly. “Yeah, he’s got a pretty distinctive hairstyle, and I had plenty of time to memorize his face when we had him in custody.”
I realize that this is meant to determine whether I live or die, Yuugi murmured to his other self within the confines of their shared heart, but I am bored out of my mind. Yuugi felt the other give something like a derisive laugh, though it seemed forced.
You appear to still be here, replied the other Yuugi, his ‘voice’ still colored with worry even as he tried making a joke. Yuugi had to suppress the smile at the effort. If you would rather be elsewhere, you could project outwards and move, as I do.
And leave you in charge? No way! You’d probably start sorting through Grandpa’s deck right at the table where everyone could see you!
At least I wouldn’t be ‘bored out of my mind,’ aibou.
“Do you find it at all odd,” Yuugi heard from Hoshikage’s questions, barely paying attention, “that everyone excepting Hikari-san was shot, including my client? The gun still had bullets in it, after all, and—”
... it’s a pity we don’t have the Millennium Scales you mentioned before, added the other Yuugi after a long moment of cross-examination, for then we could just weigh your heart.
Or the Eye, added Yuugi, because then the Judge could talk to Jounouchi-kun and sort this whole mess out. ... I really miss him.
I never... spoke with him, myself, but he was a just and loyal friend to you.
I just have to remember we’re doing this for him – so that no one will see his face and remember her deeds.
There were two short-lived witnesses after that – another person from the Justice Department that stated that although the gun was registered to Hikari, there were no fingerprints on the gun, and only Hikari’s were found on the knife, and how easy was it to kill someone, wipe the prints, and then wrap a dead girl’s hand around the handle? Very easy, argued the prosecutor. The other was the upstairs neighbor who’d made the call, and who had been coincidentally recording a video letter to her uncle in the military and had accidentally caught the sound of each of the gunshots in the background: bang, six seconds, bang, bang. She’d apparently been recording it at such a ridiculous hour solely because she knew there’d be no sound interference. The prosecutor argued that Yuugi first slit Hikari’s throat in order to get the gun, stole that weapon, shot the sister, hesitated, then shot his friend before turning the gun on himself.
Yuugi was forcibly not paying attention to the prosecutor’s arguments, or to his attorney’s counter-attacks – if he followed every word and gesture of what was going on, he knew he would call out inappropriately against all the lies and half-truths being thrown around. Unless he was called to the witness stand, there was nothing he could do but trust in his attorney, and in the evidence, and hope for the best.
It was for this reason that Yuugi, instead, attempted solving a Rubik’s cube within his imagination, and only at Hoshikage’s prodding did he realize that the Judge had called for a short recess.
._._.
The courtroom lobby was much louder now, what with almost everyone from the courtroom having bypassed traditional decorum to congregate in the defendant’s area, as opposed to the courthouse proper, or the prosecution’s end. Yuugi was very glad that the bodyguards Kaiba had assigned had not deserted Yuugi as quickly as had the state-appointed security. The ring of suits kept away most of the reporters and the Sasori fangirls, so Hoshikage was able to talk strategy almost in peace.
“Don’t worry too much, Mutou-san,” said Hoshikage, misinterpreting Yuugi’s silence, “it always looks bad at first, but the truth will come out.”
That was what Yuugi was afraid of – the whole insanity plea inducing truth. Yuugi was getting sick of worrying. Hoshikage had assured him that there were laws against giving the death penalty to minors, so the worst case would only be life in prison. The assurance was not helping.
“Yuugi!” an ever-familiar masculine voice called, and Yuugi’s entire body clenched, “Tell your goons to unhand me!”
“Grandpa!”
Mutou Sugoroku, looking sorely out-of-place in his formal suit, had attempted to breach the ring of Kaiba’s security without success; both of his arms had been snatched and trapped by men who seemed to be designed solely for the purpose of being strong, silent, and who wore their suits like armor they’d trained for their whole lives to wear properly.
“Hey, he’s okay, let him go! That’s my Grandpa!” Yuugi exclaimed to the guards, rushing towards them and breaking away from Hoshikage’s one-sided attempt at conversation. Grandfather barely had time to get his arms back before they were almost pinned again by Yuugi’s painfully tight and emotionally wrought hug.
Yuugi could have asked him about all the terrible things he’d heard from Grandmother Kameyo – about how the Puzzle had cursed him, or why he lied so much about his past – and he would, just as soon as he was finished thanking every deity he could name, and many that he couldn’t, for proving his fears that he would never see his grandfather again to be just fears.
“Ah, Yuugi,” he said kindly, returning the embrace easily and with equal fervor, “we’ve all missed you—”
“You’re just mad that you had to stock the inventory yourself,” Yuugi cut in, smiling and pushing the sadness away. Grandfather laughed.
“You underestimate me! We were perfectly able to manage the shop without you.”
“We? Never in a hundred years would Mama—”
“Oh, no,” his grandfather interrupted easily, “I hired that friend of yours, Anzu-chan.” There was a sly grin forming on the old man’s face, and Yuugi’s surprise was fading when he realized—
“...You only make her stock the top shelves, you pervert!” Yuugi accused, and Grandfather laughed and laughed, but Yuugi could tell it was because he was right.
Grandfather released him from the embrace, going in to mess up his hair. Yuugi tried dodging the cranial assault to no avail. “Impertinent brat, disrespecting your elders—”
“I love you too, you crotchety old man.”
He laughed, and pulled Yuugi into another hug, but after a moment Yuugi pulled away.
“So where is she? She... she did come, right?”
He hesitated. “Ah, she’s... having words with Kawai-san; Jounouchi-kun’s mother.”
Yuugi knew what ‘having words’ meant when his mother was involved – he was surprised he hadn’t heard her high alto ricocheting off of the lobby walls, in this case. She wasn’t a violent woman by nature, but Yuugi had seen policemen cry when she turned her anger upon them. Jounouchi’s mother probably didn’t deserve it, either – to be verbally torn down by the mother of the kid who she likely believed killed her own son? This was probably a bad thing. Yuugi sighed. He didn’t know where they were, and to venture out now through all these people to find them would be suicide; when all this was over, he would seek their forgiveness – especially from Jounouchi’s sister.
After that whole episode with the Rintama High gang, Jounouchi had told Yuugi all about his family: his father’s tendency towards drink when work was especially grueling and as a method to dealing with his depression over his divorce from Jounouchi’s mother, how Jounouchi almost wished custody laws would have let him move with his mother, how close he and his sister Shizuka had been growing up and how they kept in touch even following the divorce. After only about a month of grieving, Yuugi was sure she was still devastated by his death; but these thoughts were for another time.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your deck, Grandpa,” Yuugi said after a moment, smiling.
“Oh? Did you have to duel while you were gone?” The walrus bailiff had returned, Yuugi could see; the trial would probably be resuming soon.
“No,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “It helped me... it helped me find what was most important to me... and you, too.”
Grandfather’s face clouded, his perplexed thoughts showing in the deep trenches of age on his brow. “To me?” he asked, and Yuugi nodded with a smile. Now, grandfather would be so distracted by this mystery, he would hopefully not worry overly much about what went on during the trial. Yuugi’s grandfather wasn’t a weak man, but so much stress, Yuugi knew, would take its toll on Grandfather, and his old age certainly wouldn’t help matters.
“Mmhmm!” Yuugi agreed, “I’ll show you later, too, if—”
“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt, Mutou-san, but—”
Yuugi gave another too-bright smile. “That’s all right, Hoshikage-san, I’m ready. Wish me luck, Grandpa!”
Grandfather just smiled, and gave Yuugi an ostentatious wink, his gaze sliding down momentarily.
“Yuugi, Yuugi,” he almost chastised, “who needs luck?”
._._.
