If I'm going to resurrect one old series, it's only fair to resurrect its twin, right? This story, and "Letting the Cables Sleep" along with it, is first and foremost an experiment. I wanted to get some practice with … certain dynamics before I worked them into other works.

Inspiration is a fickle thing, and to those of you who were waiting for this for as abysmally long as you have, I have no justification. Just know that I'm coming back home to so many different stories of mine that have sat neglected, gathering dust, and this is one of them.

I know where this goes. I know what it will build.

And I intend to build it.

.

How did one define a bond? What did it mean to know someone, in that quiet way that sneaked into the room at night and whispered secrets in the dark? What was there to be done when something—someone—didn't so much enter into your life as reveal that they'd always been there?

These questions, and ten thousand others, had been plaguing Seto Kaiba's mind for months now. And when he looked at the young woman sitting beside him, looking out her window like a studious photographer seeking out a new subject, Seto tried to reconcile the fact that he had answers to exactly none of them.

Seto and Kisara weren't dating. That wasn't the right word. It didn't encompass anything that honestly mattered. Oh, sure, it was the word that got thrown around tabloids and TMZ shorts and YouTube videos. But this, whatever this was . . . just didn't feel like kisses on street corners and picnics outside scenic buildings. It didn't feel like coffee outside Starbucks or a late-night dinner.

It felt like history.

It felt like forever.

Sometimes, when his imagination allowed itself to drift, rare as that was, he remembered places he'd never seen before. He remembered limestone slopes and statues like gods. He remembered a sun that set the sky on fire, and a throne whose corners pierced flesh.

He remembered hallways and catacombs that weren't the same . . . but weren't they?

And every time, she was there.

It had taken him several months to broach the subject of these daydreams—which sometimes devolved into nightmares—and the strangest part of the whole sordid affair wasn't that she'd nodded and said she had the same visions, the same glimpses into a history past reckoning, a life past recollection yet as crystal clear as the day it had been lived.

It was the fact that he'd believed her.

"Something funny?" Seto asked, noticing the upward tick of his queen's lips.

"Have you ever thought about how many people have joked about you losing your virginity to a Blue-Eyes White Dragon?" she said.

Seto blinked. It was a startlingly specific image, and one he wasn't sure he was prepared to contemplate just now. Still, he said: "I'm sure 74% of the human population with access to a television have thought about it at least once."

Kisara winked at him. "Can you imagine how they'd react if they found out they were right?"