One thousand and one souls were the original creations. As time passed, more souls were created to fill the ever-growing world of humans.

Yugi didn't care much for the process, mystical as it may be. He held his clipboard and called out, "Alright, it says here I should have a soul who's been here for - ten years? Damn, deathspans are getting shorter."

He squinted at his list. "Date of death was December twenty-third of two thousand…?" He looked up to see several souls push their way to the front. "Not you. Or you. Oh, there you are." Yugi motioned the soul - it had a scarlet triangle on it's left shoulder - a little closer.

When it complied, he went through the usual protocols. He checked to make sure it wasn't damaged - though he'd been lax lately. They seemed to be missing morals, certain emotions, etc. more frequently than ever.

Well, it wasn't his problem. He grabbed the soul by the scruff and tossed it down the hole beside his feet. Then he flipped to the next page. "Alright, a soul whose life ended abruptly due to a train accident. It was this year - I believe you saved a baby?"

No souls reacted.

"Huh. Alright." Yugi frowned. Usually souls clamored to return to the living world. He sighed. He would have to look for it himself. Stowing his pen in his pocket, he navigated through the crowd of souls. Barely corporeal, but they were tangible enough for him to shove out of the way.

Being the immortal tasked with recycling souls, Yugi had a special power that he had hadn't used for centuries. Whichever soul meant to leave bore a red mark on it's forehead; a mark that only Yugi could see.

But as he looked around the millions of souls, he saw only the dark grey of their transparent bodies. No color in sight.

"This soul is making my job harder," Yugi muttered to himself. Although it was a nice break from mindlessly recycling soul after soul, he still felt irritated. He checked his list again. "A soul that died in a train wreck… Oh, look at that, the only one to die. Amazing. No wonder it gets to go back early."

"You're so emotionless. You don't care about us at all, do you?"

Yugi looked up. Before him stood a soul with a red eye emblazoned on it's forehead. "Oh, there you are," he said disinterestedly.

The soul shook it's head. "Seriously? No defense? No hello?"

"Hello," Yugi said drily, checking his list. "Okay. It looks like you still have your morals… somewhat. Emotions: check. Check. Check. You still have a strong personality even in death, but that's not a problem. Looks like you're good. Follow me."

"I'm not following you anywhere," the soul snapped, crossing it's arms.

Yugi tilted his head. Usually souls were eager for life. After all, they couldn't recognize each other. Memories faded fast in death, but this one had died awfully recently. Less than a year ago. Yugi entertained the idea of simply dragging the soul against it's will, but then he remembered that part of his duties included easing the souls into the idea of another life.

Never mind that he never needed to do it before.

With a sigh, he tucked the clipboard under his arm and asked, "So what was your name in your previous life?"

The soul glared at him.

"Fine. I'm going to call you Yami."

"Hey! My name is Atem!"

"So Yami, why don't you want to have a second life?" Yugi asked, studiously ignoring the soul's outcry.

The soul frowned at Yugi. "You're not a therapist, and I'm not a patient. I've barely been here - why am I being reincarnated, anyway?" It glared at Yugi as if he chose the soul personally. Of course, he didn't, but Yugi supposed the soul wouldn't know or care.

So he said, "You saved a baby. So it was decided that you would be recycled early."

"Recycled?" Yami repeated, baffled.

"Yes. That's basically what reincarnation is, you know. More souls have been created though. Must be because the humans only think about family. Honestly, the world could stand to have a few less souls in it."

The soul just stared at him as if he were crazy.

Yugi shook his head. "Anyway, if you want to stay, you'll have to have a reason. Really, any will do."

"I don't want to go."

"Except that one," Yugi said with frustration.

"Well, I don't have any reasons," Yami snapped. The soul shook it's head. "Fine. Whatever. I don't want to go back because I'm going to have the longest deathspan. I heard about it from a spirit. I just want to see if I can do it. Without, you know, going crazy."

"Did… did you die on purpose?" Yugi asked.

The soul laughed. "No."

"Alright." Yugi checked the soul of the list. "The longest deathspan is a few centuries, by the way. Good luck with that."

The soul with the red eye laughed, it's mark slowly fading. "Thanks."

Three hundred and fifty-three years later, Yugi called out, "Alright, let's see... the next soul died in a train crash a few centuries ago, the only one during that accident..." He looked up and grinned. "Hello, Yami."

"I told you my name was Atem!" the soul laughed, a familiar red eye pulsing on it's forehead. "So is it my time?"

"I think it is," Yugi said. "Congratulations. You beat the longest deathspan by a day."

Yami rolled it's eyes. "Now I don't feel as special," it complained. It stood before him as he did the customary checks - just to ensure the soul didn't degrade during it's death. Yugi found himself lingering a little more than he ought to, and sighed. "Am I good?" the soul asked impatiently, staring at him.

Yugi nodded. "Come over here," he said. "Let's get you recycled."

"That still sounds weird."

"That's what you said the last time," Yugi chuckled before he caught himself. But the damage was done - the soul frowned at Yugi. "Last time?" it said, confused. But of course it wouldn't remember. That was the whole point. Still, Yugi would. In the monotony of his life, there was no way he could forget the strong-willed soul.

Yami was still waiting.

"Nothing," Yugi lied, tossing the soul into the portal. It would be reborn, never to remember the conversation they had.

Just like the last few times.

Yugi grinned at the thought of Yami coming back, only to try and beat it's deathspan record - again.