Shuffle: A Kaitou Kid/YuGiOh! Crossover
By Ysabet

1. Cutting the Cards

Up until what Kaito later thought of as That #$!ing Accident, the day had gone pretty smoothly, all told, really it had. Things Had Happened As Planned. But that was then and now it was NOW and things just weren't going right at all…

He had been doing his last pre-heist checkups in the Kodachi Memorial Convention Center hallway, and things had been going okay—a bit crowded, but hey; crowds were fine, if anything went pear-shaped, crowds made it easier to slip away, didn't they?. Busy, though, Kaito had thought a little bemusedly, and not with the usual conventioneers either; for the most part these were determined-looking people clutching small boxes or containers of one sort or another had been hurrying back and forth between rooms, and hadn't he seen some sort of table full of fliers advertising—

What on earth is 'Solid Sound Hologram' technology? Sounds interesting…

--oh yeah, it'd been games of some sort. They had some big gamer's convention going on that day. Kaitou blinked at a group of middle-schoolers as they jostled him in their rush for the escalator; they swerved, too intent on their conversation to even apologize, and he caught a scrap or two as they passed:

"—deck? I dunno, I got ripped to pieces when I tried that before. Maybe if I bring in a Cyber Bondage and—"
"—shit yeah he's good; he won at that big tournament last year up in Ise, swatted the best player they had like he was a—"
"—think that girl from the French group might want to trade? I've got two Harp Spirits and an extra Giant of Stone, but I want—"

Oh; card games, role-playing, right? Or something. That sort of stuff had never really appealed to Kaito, not counting poker—he had enough roles as it was.

Besides, he thought smugly as he slipped through a crowded doorway to one of the function rooms, I've got a heist to take care of tonight. There's a big, fat emerald with my name on it just waiting for me. Betcha Nakamori's frothing at the mouth about this crowd, though; what a security nightmare. Of course, only part of the Convention Center had been given over to the gamers; Kaito knew for a fact that a private gem showing was being held in the east wing of the building (the part with all the plainclothes cops and the newly-installed alarm system. Convention Security was really proud of its new system; it was just a pity that the newer the technology, the easier it was get the skinny on if you were really good at hacking on the Internet—and Kaito, being a kaitou, was quite good, in the way that you could say that Mount Fuji was 'quite a mountain'.)

Jeeze, gamers were noisy. Sharp senses scanning the crowd like radar, he continued to listen as he walked:

"—you're on, loser. Just watch; betcha five hundred yen I'll make it at least two levels further than you do this year—"
"—time. One really can't understand the game unless you've been at it for at least a couple of years. These younger duelists—"
"—saw this guy cosplaying Dark Magician and he was HOT. So afterwards I went up and asked him to show me his—"
"—tuna? Aw man, I hate tuna onigiri, couldn't you have picked up something else? Now my whole deck's gonna smell like—"

Kaito winced in sympathy; ugh, tunafish... He dodged another group (college students this time) and stepped sideways--

"OOF!"

--only to end up ass-over-teakettle in a sprawling heap on the floor with a knot of teenagers who had been traveling the other direction.

Cards and bodies went tumbling; "#$!"he sputtered as he picked himself up; how embarrassing (but good for your cover, isn't it? said the thief inside his head as he checked reflexively to make sure that his current disguise was still intact). A chorus of complaints and pained noises blended in with his own, and the people he had smacked into climbed to their feet over each other and over Kaito, who yelped.

"Aaaack! Yuug', get your butt out of my face--"
"OWW Anzu that's my FOOT yaargh watch where you put your kneeeeeeeeyaaaagh—"
"—Oh, Honda-kun, I'm so sorry—"

A disheveled-looking blond shoved his hair from his face as he scrambled upright, grabbing a loosely rubber-banded deck; one of his companions was already scooping up his own fallen cards with quick, deft fingers that caught Kaito's eye; Good hands on him, could almost be a magician himself—or a thief; heh. The kid (short, with unquestionably the weirdest hair he'd ever run across, and that was saying a lot) looked up apologetically as Kaito picked up a few items of his own. --program and map, check, notebook, check, cards for my cardgun, whoops, check--

"Are you okay? Gomen ne, we were in a hurry—"

Wow; the kid had the biggest Bambi-eyes Kaito had ever seen; girls probably fell all over him, with that innocent look and a smile that could light up a room. Shame he was so short. Aoko'd want to take him home and feed him; Akako'd eat him for dinner, probably with a dipping sauce and maybe a side of asparagus. Mentally he shook himself. "No problem—here, let me help you with that—" The guy's cards had gone all over the place; a few minutes of mutual scrambling with the others in his group had them together. His own deck (the special one, not the usual) was scooped up quickly before anybody else could touch it and wonder about the weight; metal-reinforced cards did not feel like regular ones. Hands still working automatically, Kaito rocked back onto his heels and peered up at the younger teens. "You guys are gamers, huh?"

"Duelists." That was the tallest of the bunch, the one who had stepped aside and missed being part of the mass-fallout. A smaller black-haired kid peered around from behind him. "'Gamers' are people who rattle dice, move little lead miniatures around on tables and seldom shower enough." Cold, impatient eyes swept over the thief and he suppressed a mental shiver.

Iceberg. Cold fish if I ever saw one. Ergh. He shuddered, mentally changing the thought to 'bad audience' instead. "Sorry." With a sort of half-shrug-half-bow, Kaito straightened up and passed over the last handful of fallen cards. "You guys playing in any of the tournaments today? I saw a schedule…" His half-question petered out at the cold-eyed teenager's small smile.

"You could say that. Never mind; just watch where you're going." With a swirl of white trenchcoat, the other turned on his heel and strode off into the crowd, leaving his friends (?) behind. Said maybe-friends looked at each other, shrugged, and hurried off in the same direction, the last one (the one who had been hiding behind Mister Attitude) lingering to give him an apologetic look.

"Sorry—Nii-sama hates it when they start a match without him. G'bye—" And he scurried off, yelling for the others to wait up.

'Nii-sama'? Whoa. REALLY cold f—I mean, bad audience. No, I take that back; let's call a fish a fish. Frozen fish; possibly tuna. Brrrrr. The thief shook his head and then went his own way.

And that should have been the end of it.

"—brings up the possibility that the cards draw on something in the creative depths of the mind." The lecturer looked out at his audience (of which Kaito was one; and man, was he regretting it. 'Strategies And Tactics: A Psychological Overview' had been what the program said, and it had looked interesting, but it was boring, BORING, boring.) The lecturer droned on. "If we were to look into the supposed Egyptian roots of the game, we'd find all sorts of archetypes; an obvious theme would be the various priest and magic icons acting as defensive forces, or the sacrificial rituals evidenced in—"

Blahdeeblahdeeblahh. Even Nakamori's pre-heist pep-talks are more interesting than this. Kaito amused himself for a few minutes by picking the pocket of the guy slumped half-dozing in the chair beside him, examining the contents (an overstuffed wallet, four mismatched dice, a half-full matchbox, a set of keys, two foil-wrapped condoms (apparently even gamers—'duelists'-- got some occasionally) and a lot of lint) before replacing it all; the guy never noticed.

Aaargh. Dueling cards… monster cards, trap cards, magic cards… They can keep 'em. Not my style.

"—the cards exist as much inside our minds as on the board. It's plain to see that the better players have mastered visualization techniques that allow them to call upon this, to work with the archetypes as if they were manifest." The lecturer directed a thin smile towards his audience. "Occasionally one even hears rumors of, ah, actual manifestations outside the hologram arenas, but these are of course just fantasies. As much as it would be interesting to see a Curse of Dragon or a Kuribou materialize into the real world, it's important to remember that cards are just cards, and the game is only a game…"

Kaito turned his head; someone a few seats down from him had snorted softly at that last comment. ? Hey, it's one of the guys I ran into earlier, the one with the punk hair. The small, spiky guy was sitting with his arms crossed, muttering softly to himself; funny, he had looked a lot nicer earlier, and he…

Kaito stiffened, cold creeping down his spine. …something's… wrong?

Light danced across the pendant-thingy that the spiky guy was wearing as the teenager turned sideways to say something to the scruffy kid sitting next to him; for a second, his face looked…

…different.

darker? His eyes are--

…and then, no, he was-- fine. Perfectly Okay, emphasis on the 'kay' part; same Bambi-eyes and all. Just another high-school kid barely younger than himself with a really freaky dye-job and a thing for black outfits and dog-collars. No problem there; nice jewelry for a Goth, though most of them tended towards silver, not gold. Cute girl on his other side, not a Goth. Kaito mentally thumped himself on the head as he settled back into his seat again; Goths were usually okay (though he preferred to wear white himself) so…

…why oh why was his Weirdness Radar going ping-ping-ping right off the scope? Maybe it was the hair. I mean, what IS he—blond, brunet or redhead?

Rrrgh.

He eyed the kid sideways (God, he really was short, wasn't he?) for a little while, noticing the restless way the other's fingers flipped and reshuffled his deck of cards when the lecture got particularly boring. You could learn a lot about people from their hands. This kid's fingers were thin and strong, callused along the tips of the pads; his forearms had faint traces of scuffs where something had been buckled or fastened—bracers? No, it was only the one arm. Surreptitiously Kaito checked the scruffy blond beside him; yeah, he had the same marks creasing the sleeve of his shirt.

Fingers of somebody who handles paper a lot, but those scuffs—huh. Interesting. I saw some sort of gizmos on display earlier, maybe those-- And hey, what was with that weird attitude earlier? Like when Kudo knows I'm around but can't see me, that same kind of alert feeling… I don't like this. The sooner I get this heist over, the better. Gamers, duelists, whatever… I'd rather play poker anytime. Never mind; concentrate on the heist, just a little while longer and it'll be time to play MY kind of games…

……but my radar's still going off. Nggh. I don't like this. Something feels itchy, like when Hakuba's watching me from behind my back. Like when I know Kudo's around but I can't see HIM. His gaze flicked sideways again, back to Short n' Spiky; the kid's eyes were intent on the lecturer, and Kaito tuned him in again for a second:

"—so-called 'God Cards' based on Egyptian mythology, Ra and Osiris and so forth, supposed icons of unlimited power--"

"Almost unlimited," murmured Spiky; his blond friend muttered something uneasy-sounding in return and the kid shrugged, smiling slightly and settling back in his chair with his arms crossed. The heavy pyramid-thingie hanging around his neck glittered as if it might've been made out of actual gold than the brass it was sure to be. Teenage Goths just didn't run around with real gold pendants big enough to choke a horse around their necks, nope.

Oh well. The lecturer was droning on about the roots of mythology now, and Kaito could feel a headache coming on; he rubbed at his eyes, careful not to smear the makeup that was currently darkening his skin-tone. I'll just keep an eye on the kid for a bit, see if I can figure out what it is about him that's setting off my alarms. Not like I've got much else to do, really; everything's in place, everything's ready—I just have to be there on time. Can't keep my target or the cops waiting; wouldn't be good manners, and I'm supposed to be a gentleman thief, aren't I? Heh.

And so he settled back himself with a yawn that was was only half-feigned, to watch.

Half an hour later, he had several facts down…

One: Duelists tended to play with their decks when bored. (And he didn't even want to start on the innuendos that a person could pull out of that.)
Two: A lot of the duelists knew each other, whether or not they were sitting together; they constantly scanned the crowd, pausing as they hit on familiar faces.
Three: Duelists, for the most part, had good hands. Even the rough-looking blond beside Spiky (he could recognize a street-fighter when he saw one) had deft, dexterous fingers. Wonder if any of 'em have sidelines similar to mine?Kaito mused.
Four: They held grudges. BIG TIME did they ever. There had been some major Looks shot back and forth across the lecture hall that would have curled the hair of worse than Nakamori.
Five: They were, unquestionably, very protective of their decks. Most of them carried the cards in cases, bags, boxes or belt-pouches; Spiky had his in a belt-mounted case, while Blondie had just stuffed his inside his jacket. But anytime one of those intimidating Let's-Fight looks crossed, hands crept up to cover or slide along the edges of their cards.

Hm; maybe if I got a closer look--? Spiky was still giving him bad vibes, and the others of his group were sitting a little further away. Wonder where Mr. Frozen Tuna and his little bro went? Never mind; Blondie there has his deck right inside his jacket, a little sidestep and stumble and taaa-daaaaa, no problem. Sheesh. Better never wear this disguise again—I'm giving this face a reputation for being a klutz.

And that was how it went.

It had been easy—the lecture had finally finished (definitely with more of a whimper than a bang) and everybody had tromped towards the exit in the usual stampeding herd, desperate to get to something more exciting and shake some life into legs that had long since gone to sleep. He had slid sideways in the crowd, jogged a bit this way, dodged a backpack-laden bunch of gamers (oops, duelists) heading that way, and stuck a long leg out as he turned—

"AAACK!"
"Jou—"
"Itaii!"
"Oh man, not again-- Shit, I am so sorry—"

--and it had been easy to flip the rubber-banded deck right out of the guy's jacket. So easy, in fact, that it had been a complete surprise to find the rubber-band snapping, sending brown-backed cards absolutely everywhere…..

The next few minutes had been a scramble of reaching hands and no few glares; apparently Blondie was fairly well known among the dueling community (Kaito caught several mutters about 'Battle City finalist'; he'd have to look that one up later). And dammit, there was no way to get more than a passing look at the guy's deck, not in that mess…

…so he'd just have to examine a few cards instead. He'd return them later, of course.

With Blondie throwing him an exasperated glare, he apologetically left the lecture hall and made his way to a small service alcove to one side of the crowds; it wouldn't be a good idea to pull out his prizes right there, after all—

Hmmm. 'Red Eyes Black Dragon'…… nice art. Looks like it's been used a lot, the corners are foxed. Wonder if it's a good card or not? What else've we got… Celtic Guardian…. Some kind of cyber…thingie?…… and a dog with a unicorn-horn, weird… Huh. Kaito scratched his head, baffled.

I don't get it. Maybe I need to watch them play—

Oh well; never mind. Not much time left before the heist; maybe he could return them afterwards. If not, the convention was supposed to last all weekend—he'd find run into Blondie again eventually. It wasn't that big a deal.

…and he had been feeling maybe just a little bad about those cards. Because Blondie and his spiky friend and the rest of his bunch had been charging back and forth across the convention center like demented bloodhounds, the looks on their faces ranging from abject horror to homicidal rage, depending on who was doing the looking. Somebody was in deep trouble, and if Blondie figured out who had snitched his precious cards…

Jeeze; if he'd just slow down for five minutes, I'd sneak 'em back into his pocket. Where's he getting all that energy?

'Course, it wasn't like he could throw stones or anything… Kaito sighed as they went charging past again. Maybe if he stuck his foot out again, he could-- nahh. Too clumsy. Too coincidental. Too lacking in style. Anyway… it was about time to start thinking seriously about getting ready for his heist, the whole reason he was there in the first place. Hello, Earth to Thief Boy—Showtime, remember? Big, fat emerald? Forget about Spiky and his friends, you can catch up with 'em later.

Subduing a feeling of guilt as Blondie and his troop went dashing past double-time yet again, he turned towards the elevators. His gear was stowed away safely several floors up, and he needed to focus.

In front of him, the elevator chimed as the car reached ground floor and prepared to open; Kaito flexed his fingers, already beginning to do the mental warm-ups that led to becoming the Kid. Get your brain working, Kuroba… Nakamori's waiting with his goon squad and so's the target; you never know; tonight might be the night when you find the real McCoy, the Pandora Stone itself, and then--

The doors opened, and he stepped forward—

"AAACK!"
"#!$!"

--into a striding flurry of white trenchcoat and a brief blizzard of flying cards. AGAIN. And this time it wasn't even deliberate.

From his undignified sprawl before the elevators, a familiar glare nailed Kaito cold. "YOU."

Kaito swallowed. "Frozen Tuna!"

"—what?"

"—uh—"

Ignoring all efforts to help him up (and giving Kaito a look that clearly showed doubts about his mental status), Mister Frozen Tuna-san climbed to his feet. "I suppose it was inevitable," he snapped as he collected his fallen cards and carefully shuffled them back into his belt-case. "Do you ever watch where you're going? Brainless idiot. Count yourself lucky, if I wasn't in a hurry-- Even the Mutt's better on his feet--" Blue eyes icy, he strode away angrily into the parting crowds.

Kaito pulled himself up, blinking after the departing white trenchcoat. "Was it something I said?" He glanced down at the brown-backed card that he had reflexively snatched out of the air, and a small smile crooked his lips. Sometimes the fingers just worked on autopilot… "Hmmm. Wonder what this one's for?" he asked himself out loud, slipping it into a handy pocket.

Oh well; he'd take a better look at it later…..

After his heist.

White-gloved hands fingered the contents of various pockets.

Cardgun: check. Loaded? Yes. Smokebombs: check. Sonic-boom Specials: yup. Concussive grenades: more than enough.

No watch was needed; inside the thief's head, a counter was ticking off the seconds with perfect accuracy, one after the other. A hat was tugged down a little more firmly, and thin white fingers adjusted the set of a monocle.

Okay; we go in, we mess with Nakamori's head, we take the target, we get out via the third-story air-ducts. Nice of Keibu-san to go through 'em yesterday morning and put grills in at all the junctures; it made it that much easier last night for me to knock 'em loose. Substandard welds, though; tsk tsk.

Do I have enough sleeping-gas boomers on me this time to go around? It wouldn't be fair of me not to bring enough for everybody… Yeah, got 'em, got the Pink Smoke ones too. A thumb slid along the edge of his deck, and he frowned at the feel; something wasn't right… Wait, there were loose cards in his pocket. Can't be having that; don't want to get myself sliced up accidentally. That would amuse Nakamori far too much. Careful fingers shuffled the wayward cards automatically into their pack, slotting them into the cardgun's magazine. There.

Everything ready? Check….. check…….. and check. Come to me, my leetle emerald. Let's see what you're made of.

Let's go.

Now:

And it was showtime, and he had just aimed his card-gun and fired at the floor in front of Nakamori and his good-squad. It had been a playful gesture on his part; the card he had been expecting was one of his Pink Smoke Specials, with the sleep-gas emitter built in; after all, Nakamori-keibu had looked awfully tired. Too many late nights; the poor guy probably needed a nap—hey, he'd thank him for it someday, maybe...

Except, well… now it didn't look like any of them would be getting much sleep for a while.

And as the Kid stared in complete and utter shock at the Blue Eyes White Dragon that had materialized with heart-stopping suddenness in the middle of the room, he slid one gloved thumb edgewise across the cards that he had packed into his gun earlier.

Yep, they did feel different. Oh hell.

"You know," he remarked quite calmly as the dragon roared like a thousand freight-trains and Nakamori passed out cold on the spot, frothing, "I think maybe I loaded a wrong card or two…."

"I would say that that's a good possibility," whispered a voice from just behind the thief's shoulder; he jerked in place—

Howthehell? Somebody snuck up on me? Who--

--as a hand came down on his shoulder, gripping cruelly tight. "Let's play a game," said the voice softly even as the lights seemed to fail and darkness began to bleed through the air like ink across wet paper…..

Oh shit, yelped the small voice in the back of the Kid's head as everything went away; Magic, and this time it's not Akako. I am so screwed… What is it they always say at times like this in the movies? -- oh yeah, it's 'fade to black'—

--fade to—

--fade—

--to--

…purple?

Purple smoke? He doesn't usually do purple-- Inspector Nakamori Ginzo blinked, staggering upright (and he had NOT passed out, dammit, no matter what anybody said) and fanning at his face as the drifts of darkness dissipated into nothing (really nothing: no goddamned thief, no goddamned gem, no dragon (thankyouthankyou) and—)

"—who was that anyway?" the Inspector asked out loud, scanning the room warily; there had been somebody else, slipping up behind the white menace like a shadow just before the smoke had spread, and now… gone. Hell. Must've been an accomplice, or a distractions or something, like that #$!ing big white lizard… Hologram? I know the technology's getting pretty good these days, but— New tactic for the Kid, but at least now it's gone…

His eyes swiveled to the smashed display-case at the other end of the room. #$ing $#!; so's the emerald. No Kid, no dragon, no target—huh? Something had just rolled underfoot, making little clinkety noises; numbly the Inspector bent down and picked up the flawless stone, green facets reflecting back verdant fire between his fingers.

"WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE $&! JUST HAPPENED HERE?"

To be continued...

Ysabet's Notes: Alright, I admit it. I wrote this entire first bit in its original form (muuuuuch shorter) so I could do the sight-gag at the end. See, we were discussing YGO in a chatwindow and somebody (might've been me, dunno) mentioned how funny it would be if he somehow managed to do this and… uh…. Well. It was that mental image of Nakamori confronting the Blue Eyes White Dragon, and it was SUPPOSED TO END RIGHT THERE, and… I wish I could draw, because then this would be a lot shorter, but…. and I'm sticking with Icka M. Chif's concept of 'MK-as-intrinsically-gifted-wielder-of-real-magic-even-if-he-doesn't-know-it'; so there. -- I have no shame. None whatsoever. And this damned thing will be three chapters long and a stand-alone story instead of the original short-little-silly-blurb because my friend and fellow Bad Influence Dogmatix nudged me into it. Aaaaaaaargh… but then, she's been writing lovely Stargate/YGO crossover ficcage as well as stand-alone post-series YGO stuff, so this one belongs to her. Mati, I personally blame you. (primal scream) Oh well; I need something to keep my other story 'Windfall' from eating my brain. Meh.