Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! GX, or any of the characters here, unless otherwise mentioned (all original characters belong to me). I do not own Kazuki Takahashi, and no money is being made off of this piece of fiction. This story was written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement was intended. Please, do not sue. All original ideas are original (duh) and belong to me, unless otherwise mentioned. I would like to share credit for much of this story with my friend and beta, The Mad Poet, who sloughed through the outline and rough drafts. Also, for coming up with many ideas and helping me to flesh out the story (and for playing Marco Polo until the wee hours of the morning). This story begins just before Saiou and Juudai's duel at the end of second season, and may contain: violence, language, mind games, biblical references, cultural and religious jokes/criticism, some crude humor, psychological trauma/mental instabilities, romance, and possibly sex or sexual references. If you lack the maturity to handle all that, then please leave now. For everyone else, enjoy.

Saving You Saves Me

"The pain in your heart, you can let it all out to me. I've always been saved by that smile of yours. So go ahead and cry for now, because I'll be here as long as you need." – 'Teardrop,' BOWL

Chapter One

Juudai never regretted any of the times when he took things seriously, and he never felt any remorse or twinge of guilt over his actions. He did what was needed at the time, and – for the most part – that was enough for him. Sometimes, though, late at night when he was sitting out on his cliff looking over the edge at the water far below instead of being in bed asleep, Juudai wondered if there was something wrong with him. He wondered if that something was important, wondered if normal people could choose to be childish and naïve and carefree in place of the coldly calculating adult that he knew that he could be, if he wanted. Juudai was not an idiot, although he loved to play the part of the fool. Being a fool meant that he did not have to be an adult, and that was a very good thing, he thought. He did not like the kind of adult that he would grow up to be. That kind of adult was a little on the scary side.

He looked up from the Life Point counter on his Duel Disk, staring across the expanse of white to the young man who would not be his opponent; the young man who refused to accept his childish terms and conditions to decide the fate of the world. Because, really, Saiou was right: now that he had the key to the laser satellite of destruction, there was not any reason to stand around and play a silly children's card game. And though that suggestion had surprised him at first, Juudai knew that it was okay. They did not need to play cards. Juudai was good at other things, too. People – people like Kenzan, who, had he been there, would have happily offered assistance – could attest to his many skills. But Kenzan was not there. In point of fact, no one else was there in that colorless room except for Saiou, and the Light inside him.

And Ed, come to think of it. Then again, Ed was unconscious, lying in the hands of the Scales of Justice above pits of lava, so maybe that did not count.

Saiou was saying something, but the pale young man was ranting, going into some kind of religious psychobabble that was hard for Juudai to understand. Primarily, the difficulty was caused by the fact that every word was run into the next, and Saiou had the obnoxious habit of holding onto his vowels and swallowing consonants. And then there was the double speech. Juudai had never liked anyone who could not simply say whatever it was that they meant, and this was no exception. When every other word had three meanings that fit within the context of the sentence, it was no wonder that he had long since stopped paying attention to the leader of the Society of Light.

"I hate to break it to you, but. . ." Juudai interrupted, casually calling out to the young man across from him. He took his Duel Disk off and set it aside. If anything bad happened to any of his cards he would never forgive himself, and this could get messy. Juudai started to walk towards Saiou, who was so stunned – at least, Juudai thought he must have been stunned, because there was no reason for him not to be stunned – by this that he stuttered to a halt. "You're annoying. You and your stupid Light."

"What now, my foolish hero?" he used the word for 'hero' that also meant 'the butt of a joke,' a slight emphasis caused by the way that he spoke. Juudai did not pause or falter as Saiou continued. "You do not yet have the power to unleash the Dark Warrior inside of you; you are but a child in the presence of God. And we are not afraid."

"Well, fear this."

Perhaps Saiou was taken by surprise when Juudai's fist connected with his nose. But maybe the Tarot-obsessed freak already knew what would happen next. Whatever the case, Saiou fell back with a gasp, bringing a set of long-nailed fingers up to his face. His mouth was open – in shock? – and blood that seemed too bright to be real began to drip from his nose. Had blood always been that red? Juudai did not think so. Then again, every color seemed special here, seemed amazingly brilliant when surrounded by so much white. Saiou's breathing was heavy. Juudai got the impression that no one had ever punched him before. He felt kind of special to be his first.

"You—"

"You don't want to play cards?" Juudai was speaking too loud, the not-quite yell overpowering whatever it was that Saiou had been trying to say. His eyes were narrowed and he realized that his voice sounded angry. But that was not right. He did not feel angry right now; there was a chilly, hollow feeling in his chest, the feeling that was always there when he decided to take things more seriously. It was the Grown-Up Juudai, the Juudai that did not get sidetracked by emotions. This was the Serious Juudai that got things done when nothing else worked. The feeling was spreading, and he lowered his voice back down to a normal speaking level. Grown-Up Juudai did not yell, because he knew that yelling did not solve anything. A cold, authoritative tone took the place of the anger. "That's fine, because I don't want to play games with you anymore. And there are consequences that you have to face because of that."

Juudai did not think of the Grown-Up inside of him as someone else. It was not a darker side, some twisted and sinister individual that he housed within. Serious, Grown-Up Juudai was not someone else. It was not a part of him that he thought that he hid from people, not a part of him that he was ashamed of. There was not a distinction that he consciously made between them. This was just the kind of person that he was, the kind of adult that he would eventually become. Growing up was just a decision that he made in tough situations when childish thinking finally failed him. When this was done, he would go back to laughing and playing the fool and being happy again. And he would probably "Gotcha!" the next person he saw or played with like nothing had ever happened. He always did, after all.

"I—"

"Nothing you say is going to change this."

Blood was getting on Saiou's robes. It was going to stain, of this Juudai was certain. Saiou began to scoot back on the floor, his shaky and bloodied hands slipping and smearing red in wide arcs as he tried to crawl away. Juudai did not bother to waste any more time with idle talk, with complacent conversation. Saiou opened his mouth to speak again, but Juudai slammed his boot into the young man's face.

The sound that someone's head makes when it is kicked hard enough is a little odd. It is a dull sound, a muted quiet sound of something hard hitting something softer, a slightly wet sound. Juudai did not like that sound; it made him think of bursting watermelons. And he hated it when people broke watermelons, because it was such a waste. But that sound was gone in a moment, was replaced by the thunkcrack of Saiou's head hitting the white tiles when he fell back. The young man was gasping, coughing to keep from choking on the blood that had suddenly filled his mouth. His face was starting to bruise and swell, and some of his teeth had broken off, chipped fragments cutting into his gums. Saiou spit them out onto the floor beside him, body lifted slightly and supported by his elbows.

Juudai had a leg on either side of Saiou's ribs, resting on his knees as he grabbed the front of those splotched robes with one hand. The front was not white any more. Saiou's blood was too red, and there was too much of it. Juudai wondered briefly if the young man had a clotting problem, or if this was normal and he was simply out of practice. Card games really were so much cleaner. Saiou's legs flailed in panic, but Juudai pulled his free hand back, building tension for a fraction of a second before releasing and letting his blow land.

Saiou was crying – or, perhaps, the Light was laughing, it was hard to tell – when Juudai pulled back for the third punch. Tears sprang up in his bright eyes, eyes that were too wide as if the hand of God held them open against their will. By the fourth punch his nose was definitely broken, a mottled mess of flesh that was quickly beginning to turn black and purple and so many other unnatural colors. His head was lolling from side to side, perhaps seeking a way out. There were none. On the fifth punch, his eyes were swollen shut and the tears finally stopped. Juudai's hands were beginning to hurt; his knuckles were sore, and the muscles in his arm ached from being contracted for so long. His wrist felt stiff and unresponsive after absorbing so many shocks.

"You will bring death to all that surrounds you!" Saiou shrieked in a pause before the next blow, taloned hands coming up to grip the collar of Juudai's jacket frantically, words coming out in a desperately fanatical rush. "This is only the beginning, and the darkness that sleeps inside of you will grow to consume the flesh and souls of men. This is your last chance, you fool! Accept the Light, let it burn you clean and absolve you of your sins; the Wheel of Fate—"

He did not respond. When Juudai hit him for the seventh time, blood was being sent up in light sprays, flecking his own face and school uniform. The bones in the oracle's face were beginning to give way, lending the dull sound of flesh pounding flesh a few cracks and snaps, but mostly allowing that wet sound to grow. Saiou was not making any noise anymore, the silence of the room adding like deafness to the horror of each blow.

The worst part about beating a man to death with bare hands, Juudai decided, was that he knew exactly when Saiou was going to die. He was beginning to feel his fists sink in deeper with every hit, the bones all but shattered beneath the skin, which was splitting along curves to reveal musculature and pour out blood. Juudai wondered if there was any skin left on Saiou's face; he could only see the red plasma streaming onto the floor and soaking into once-white robes. Why did the skin split like that, anyway? Where did it go when it broke apart? It seemed to disappear, like there had never been enough skin to cover everything.

Saiou was not crying out anymore, was not twitching or gasping or doing anything that live men did.

After a moment, and three more punches, Juudai released the front of the oracle's robes, sitting back on his heels while he took a deep breath. He went to wet his lips with his tongue and tasted blood. He shivered slightly, and let the apathy – that hollow grown-up feeling – slip away.

Their second year was finally over.

There had been times when Manjoume had not believed that they would live to see the seniors graduate, times when the very thought of sitting through the principal's farewell speech seemed too much to hope for. But now, seated in the Osiris Red section of the Dueling Arena seats for the graduation ceremony, surrounded by people that he disliked and was in turn disliked by, Manjoume came to realize just how impossible not surviving would have been.

"Psst! Manjoume—"

"–San da," he muttered the additive almost under his breath reflexively, lips hardly moving as he tilted his head toward the speaker.

After all, if he had died, he would not be stuck next to Juudai for the mind-boggling span of two and a half hours as Sameshima wrapped up his less than inspiring sendoff. Manjoume sighed, rubbing at his temple idly with one hand. This was divine retribution, he reminded himself as he half-listened to the boy next to him. This was payback for. . . well, he was not quite sure what he had done to deserve this kind of torture, but it must have been something really, really bad.

"Hey, Manjoume! Manjoume, what are you doing for summer break?" Juudai asked in a low but curious tone, his mouth curved in a mischievous grin.

"No."

"Huh? Whaddya mean—"

"Whatever it is that you think that we should do. The answer is, 'no, never.' I'm going home for the summer," even as he spoke, Manjoume knew that he would regret those words, knew with that sick sinking feeling that he tended to get whenever he said anything to the fool beside him. Something terrible was going to happen next. He did not yet know what it was, but he could tell from the flash of stupidity – or perhaps some strange perversion of insight – that crossed Juudai's face. The grin grew, and so did the heavy feeling in his gut.

". . . You don't really want to go home for the summer, do you?"

"I know exactly where you're going with this," Manjoume growled, slouching in his seat and folding his arms over his chest sullenly. He stared down at the Dueling Arena, at the lines of chairs that had been brought out onto the field for graduation. Last year there had been an impressive Graduation Duel between his companion and the Kaiser, but when the new top senior had asked, Juudai had strangely declined. With this year's Graduation Duel – between the top senior, a boy that Manjoume did not know but hated for taking the spot away from Asuka, and the head of the Ra Yellow dorms, Kabayama-sensei – already come and gone, there was little else to do but wait for the ceremony to end. Sameshima had announced earlier that, since there had been plenty of insanity throughout the year, they were going to have a boring, normal graduation after the duel. Manjoume could understand that, between the messes that were the GeneX Tournament, the Society of Light's overtaking of the school, and the rebuilding after the White Order's disbanding, a lot had happened in one year. No one really minded the slow-down before going home. In fact, many – Manjoume included – were relieved to be having a graduation just like any other high school, where things like radical religious sects and the destruction of the world were not commonplace.

Manjoume idly noted the green berets stationed at each entrance and exit of the arena, holding loaded M-16s at low-ready. Ah yes, totally normal and now safe, all thanks to the efforts of the Morality Committee. Duel Academy would never quite be normal, despite its efforts.

He heard Juudai laugh, saw the boy stifle the sound with his hand out of the corner of one eye. But the principal had finally finished his speech, and the teachers and professors were moving from their chairs to form the line of faculty that the students would walk past. Manjoume paid close attention, narrowing his gaze as his vision swept across the graduating class in blue and yellow, searching. . .

. . . For her.

"I think you should stay with me for the summer," Juudai was rambling again, leaning in as he gushed about how 'awesome' it would be. "Sure, my place isn't big, but my mama is totally nice, and I really think that you'd—"

"Shh!" Manjoume ground the command for silence out between clenched teeth, his jaw tight with tension as he watched her intently. Her name was the second called, which was not surprising, considering that the Academy did everything according to class rank. She stood calmly, serenely, and walked forward. His breath caught in his throat, and Manjoume sat up straighter without thinking. She took her diploma from Sameshima, and then moved on to shake the hands of her professors and exchange thanks and congratulations.

"No! Promise you'll be around for summer."

"Do you mind?"

"It's just Asuka, Manjoume."

"–San da!" he snapped vehemently, heat rising to his face at the mention of her name. Why Juudai never added an honorific to either of their names was a mystery to him, but he could not bring himself to think of their upperclassman as anything other than Asuka-sama. He even thought of that as a stretch, as a private admission that he allowed himself only in the secrecy of his mind. After all that had happened this year, he was nearly certain that she did not want to be on a first name basis with him anymore. "And you should be more respectful; Tenjoin-kun is graduating and won't be here next year, you know."

". . . Huh?" Juudai cocked his head to one side, finally looking down to the arena below. "What? No way! Asuka is totally going to be back for next year; what makes you think that she doesn't want to hang out with us?"

". . . You're an idiot," that statement was the only thing that Manjoume could think to say as he stared at Juudai with a mixed feeling of amazement and disgust. How did anyone manage to survive that level of stupidity?

"Does that mean you'll stay for summer break?"

"No!"

"Oh, come on," Juudai whined, nudging Manjoume's shoulder with his elbow. Manjoume glared at him, swatting at the annoying boy with one hand before returning attention to the graduating seniors. Actually, he was returning his attention to her, but that was a trivial detail not worth mentioning. She was shaking the hand of Professor Satou, who was smiling and probably telling her what an amazing and wonderful student she had always been, which would not have been surprising. Asuka was a wonderful person, after all. Wonderful, beautiful, amazing people were always good students; others were invariably drawn to their natural perfection. Manjoume sighed wistfully. This was probably the closest he would be to her for years. . .

"Just give me this moment, Juudai. That's all I'm asking, really."

". . . If you promise to stay with me over summer break, I'll give you all of her contacts."

Manjoume jerked to look at the smug student beside him, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he tried to come up with something to say. But of course Juudai would have Asuka's new cell phone number, and her email, and probably her college address, too. Somehow, Juudai always had everyone's number, though how he got that kind of information was far beyond Manjoume. He stuttered, stammered, blundered for a critical moment before blurting out. "I can get that from Fubuki, thank you!"

"Oh yeah? Are you sure?" Juudai asked, his tone slightly teasing as he poked Manjoume with one finger to the ribs. The student in black squirmed in his seat, diverting his gaze to the sticky auditorium floor. "I mean, I thought that he wasn't talking to you, an' all, so. . ."

That stung, but only because it was true. When Asuka had been taken into the White Order, Fubuki had been less than pleased, to say the least. Ever since she had left it, her brother had hovered around her like an angry shadow, glowering at anyone who came close. When Manjoume had tried to talk to her, to make sure that she was okay, but also to ask if she remembered anything – anything at all – about the White Order and the grace of God, Fubuki had stopped him. Fubuki had politely dismissed the two of them and placed a hand on his shoulder in a brotherly way just before slamming him into a wall and snarling into his face that if Manjoume ever so much as thought about speaking to his beloved and darling baby sister ever again, Fubuki would know about it and there would be consequences. Manjoume had not asked for any elaboration on what those 'consequences' might be, but he imagined that it involved a substantial amount of excruciating pain and irreparable bodily harm. He gulped, and looked to Juudai cautiously, weighing the risks.

". . . Would I have to stay the whole time?"