Senbazuru
emeralddarkness

Summery: Yuugi has an impossible wish, but than what is life if not a string of impossibilities?
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: No I don't own Yugioh, despite all the effort that I have expended on that cause….

Here ya are then. This started as a completely random story, written late at night when a plot bunny hopped into my brain and set up such a fuss that I had to write this, lest I go more crazy then I am right now. Many, many thanks to by good friend and beta, Carolyn, also known as Renaiya880727 round these parts.

I'd seriously suggest going to check out her stories, she's an excellent author.

OoOoO

Yuugi absentmindedly folded the square of thin paper; this one was black and white striped on one side, like a zebra, the other side plain and undecorated. Over, unfold, now the other way, unfold it again, another fold – diagonal this time – and unfold it again, once again in the other direction, tuck the paper in to make a smaller square and then fold in the corners to make a kite….

His hands moved without thinking – after all this time, they knew the pattern for themselves. There was a rhythm to folding the paper, after all. It was as natural as breathing, as soothing as a heartbeat, merely a bit of physical white noise occupying the fringes of his thought that, somehow, gave both more and less form to everything else.

A thinner diamond now – fold up, over, over again, unfold, do it again….

Honestly, it was almost embarrassing how natural this had become. If Jounouchi knew, Yuugi was sure that he'd laugh. In fact, he'd be more surprised if the other boy didn't tease him; Jounouchi was a friend, true, but he was still himself. A few more folds and then Yuugi tugged the bit of paper in his hand a little, adjusting the shape. A crane, zebra striped wings outstretched, sat quietly in his palm. It seemed to be looking at him. Strange, how much personality a few folds could give an inanimate piece of paper – Yuugi blushed as he looked at it for a few more moments, then shook his head and slid it onto the string that he was currently working on.

Automatically, his hands found another square of paper – this one had been carefully cut from the pages of a magazine, so the pattern should be interesting when he was done – and started folding again. First in half, unfold, in half the other way and then unfold again….

It had become automatic, almost a nervous habit – at school he sometimes wished that he had something that he could fold, but he hadn't started making cranes from his notebook paper quite yet. Yet, he supposed, was the key word in that sentence. He laughed at himself a little, blushing again, as he looked at his room.

For the most part it looked the same – his bed was still in the same position, as was his desk, and there were still textbooks on the floor, still puzzles and video games and decks of cards scattered carelessly next to the walls. The clothes in his closet were still the same – his bedclothes were still the same, as was the hurried way that he always made his bed. He rarely did more than simply attempt to straighten the covers a little before going to school, which resulted in a nearly permanently mussed appearance. Even the box was still there, the golden box that the pieces of the shattered Sennen Puzzle had been stored in for so long. It still held his dueling cards, though he didn't use them as much nowadays, other than when he was defending his title – and people didn't often get him to agree to a title match. He was kind of tired of all the drama that being ranked number one in the world had led to, really. Everyone wanted to duel him and almost no one was worth either his time or energy. It wasn't exactly in his nature to say something like that – to imply that he was somehow better than anyone else in any way – but there came a time when you simply had to acknowledge the truth, and when it was hard for him to even pretend to be interested in the matches that people challenged him to…. It was a pity that Atemu wasn't still around, as he would have enjoyed the endless challenges more, but… no, Yuugi was trying not to think too much about his other half, because if he did then he'd start to dwell on him (or, rather, the fact that he was no longer there) and he'd promised too many people – himself included – that he wasn't going to do that. And so his deck sat in the box that had once housed the unsolvable puzzle and his duel disk sat next to it, ready for those few times when he needed to use it.

Very little had changed, except, perhaps, for the fact that his CD collection wasn't in the disarray that it had fallen into while the Pharaoh was there – Yami no Yuugi had loved music but had rarely put everything back in its proper position after he was done listening to whatever had been the selection of the day; jazz had been mixed with classical in tottering stacks or messy piles, metal and instrumental sometimes sharing a single case because one had gone missing. In fact, the only difference that was really noticeable was the cranes.

He had folded hundreds of the things now, of all different sizes. Some were practically miniscule, from when he'd been running low on paper; some were made of practically whole sheets. Some were made of origami paper, some of foil paper and some foil tissue, some of magazine pages, some of colored or even white copier paper. There were even a few of an expensive kind of paper and a couple that were made of handmade paper, bamboo filaments visible in the uneven surface. Not many of those kind, however, as he really couldn't afford to buy a lot of paper that cost so much when the only thing that he was going to do with it was cut a bit off to make a square and make it into origami…. Still, there was a wide variety in size and color and pattern. The only thing that they had in common, really, were their shape – each one a crane, each one spreading paper wings as though preparing to fly.

Yup, it was embarrassing.

Yuugi laughed and shook his head at himself, blushing a little yet again, as his deft hands skillfully completed the last fold on yet another magazine crane and then slid it onto the string to join its companions.

"Let's see," he murmured, quickly tallying up the number as he looked at the string of cranes that he had just put his latest creation on, "I think… yup, that's it, another string done."

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid. He knew it wouldn't work. Still, it was something to do and so he figured he might as well. And then, of course, there was that ever trusting fragment in the middle of his heart that was still hoping…. He tried to squash it, he knew that he'd only be disappointed, but somehow he couldn't ever quite manage to. Therefore, although it was stupid and embarrassing and many other things – a waste of time, some might say – he couldn't stop feeling slightly giddy as he looked at the fruits of his labors.

He was hanging the completed strings of cranes in a line along his bedroom wall. They danced silently in the breeze from his open window like many colored wind chimes, only without any sound. Maybe they chime a melody in some other world…?

This really was stupid. Stupid, yet… exciting. He bit his lip, almost giggling. Honestly, just like he was in grade school – no wonder so many people thought he was younger then he really was.

There was that anticipation growing, like the feeling the evening before your birthday, as he looked over the strings and strings of origami cranes. He had over thirty now. Twenty-five paper cranes per string, so once he hit forty he'd have all one thousand of them.

Waste of time and paper, he thought again, trying to convince himself again and not succeeding, nor really minding that he wasn't. He didn't really mean it, and he knew that he didn't, but he still tried to convince himself….

Man. He sounded like he was completely crazy. And here most people would probably have thought that sounding crazy would have dropped off when the guy living in his head had moved out….

At least it gives me something to do!

When I should be studying. Study, Yuugi, study!

That, at least, was true. And so, even though half of him really did want to just keep on making cranes, he picked up his books and went off to the kitchen, where there would both be food that he could occupy himself with and no spare squares of paper to tempt his hands into the familiar motion of folding.

OoOoO

Really, Yuugi blamed Jounouchi – it was all his fault. He'd been the one who, back last year, when mou hitori no Yuugi had still been here and still been looking for his memories, when the Millennium Items had still been around and causing all kinds of trouble for all of them, had decided to make a Senbazuru for Shizuka as she was in the hospital and dragged all of them into it. Except, of course, Anzu had ended up having study school and so she couldn't do much and Honda had given up fairly quickly, not having the patience for that sort of thing, and so in the end it had just been Yuugi and Jounouchi folding. Jounouchi didn't have the patience either, of course, and so the stupid thing had never gotten done – Yuugi briefly wondered what had happened to the hundred or so cranes they had managed to make before dismissing it as unimportant.

It didn't matter, what did matter was that it had been Jounouchi who had both put the idea of the Senbazuru in his head and who had gotten his hands accustomed enough to folding cranes (because it had been him who'd done most of the folding for those that were created – which somehow seemed like cheating, not that he'd said anything) that he'd just started doing it. Yami no Yuugi had seemed fascinated by it – when Yuugi had asked him why, he'd laughed and said that you couldn't fold papyrus, certainly not in such intricate patterns. And so Yuugi had laughed as well and folded him several paper cranes, which had then been set to the side and forgotten until everything changed.

Ah, yes, when everything changed; the ceremonial duel, when Yuugi had won the duel and lost his best friend. Funny how that worked out, to win and lose at the same time – and when he'd come back to his room it had seemed so terribly empty at first that he'd ended up sleeping on the couch those first few nights, and the golden box that he kept his cards in seemed such a terrible empty shadow, an echo of things past that could not be again, that he'd almost gotten rid of it. Of course, in the end, he hadn't been able to make himself do that – to get rid of the box would be to get rid of his last real, physical tie to the Pharaoh. Instead he'd started keeping his deck in it – his entire deck, not just the god cards – to try and keep it from feeling quite so empty.

That wasn't all, either. He'd almost torn his room apart and rearranged the whole thing, just so that maybe he could get it into some shape that didn't reflect so many memories, but in the end he hadn't. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe it was a bad thing, maybe… he didn't know.

Everything had changed, that was all, and it was difficult to try and adjust. It was like suddenly losing an arm or a leg, and as glad as he was that Atemu could move on to his final reward after waiting for so very long… he'd been a part of Yuugi: his other self, just as he'd always said. Mou hitori no boku; that was what he'd called him and that was what he'd been. And it was jarring, suddenly to be without him.

It had been a few weeks before he'd found one of the paper cranes, and even then he hadn't really thought of it. Instead it had made him think of Atemu again – his fascination, his delight – and suddenly even the stupid cranes seemed painful. But it had made him remember, and making him remember had also made him remember the legend.

Stupid, really.

But the story of a Senbazuru – a thousand origami cranes folded which would grant a wish – had suddenly seemed to make a bit more sense. And it seemed oddly appropriate that the number was one thousand – thousands seemed to keep on finding their way into his life. The sennen items, sennen spell book, sennen puzzle. And all of them were magical….

Besides, it would be cool to just say he'd done it. It would be something to do rather than just moping. And he could wish on the cranes to see Atemu again. Even if the wish really wouldn't be granted….

Still, there was something inside him that believed, maybe that was the reason he kept on making the stupid paper cranes even though he knew that his friends would laugh at him if they knew. Or… well, Anzu wouldn't laugh – she'd beat up, or at least yell at, other people who did laugh – and he didn't think that Bakura would either, but Jounouchi and Honda would. Despite all this being Jounouchi's fault in the first place, he'd say that there was a difference in making a thousand cranes for your baby sister and making one simply for an impossible wish. And really, there was one – Jounouchi hadn't ever believed in the thousand cranes, he'd just thought that the sight of all the paper birds would make his little sister happy. Jounouchi was a sucker when it came to Shizuka.

Anyway, it didn't really matter why – Yuugi had fallen into the habit of making cranes. And now he was almost at the end. It was a giddy feeling, though he didn't want it to end. When it ended, after all, then he'd know that he'd been right, and that last bit of childish hope that was clinging to him would at last be extinguished. It seemed a pity to blow out that flickering spark, but better to finish than to leave it unfinished forever.

OoOoO

Thirty-nine strings had been completed, and he was almost done with the fortieth. Strange, how shaky he felt as he folded the cranes.

There was the twenty-third, a pattern of chrysanthemums splashing against the surface of its outspread wings… the twenty-fourth, cut from a magazine add – all text on one side, all bright colors on the other….

Yuugi threaded them onto the string and then pulled the last square of paper – the thousandth square – towards him and then stared at it. And… and he wasn't sure if he wanted to finish. To forever leave the chain not quite perfect, to stop at nine hundred and ninety-nine rather then one thousand and thus never have to be proven wrong... would that be better?

Absently, his fingers brushed against the edge before automatically beginning to fold the paper. And then, with a suddenness that was almost ferocious, Yuugi forced his fingers to stop their motion. He forced his hands to stop moving and not to crease it, forced himself to set the paper to the side, and then forced himself to back away until he fled his room, which suddenly seemed to have walls that were closing in on him.

The chains of paper cranes – thirty nine of them, made of nine hundred and seventy-five separate paper cranes – fluttered a little from the wind as he threw the door closed behind him. Behind, from his desk, the unfinished pile of twenty four cranes seemed to be looking at him with a reproachful attitude.

OoOoO

The final crane, the thousandth crane, stayed unfinished for a very long time. And yet, despite the fact that he didn't make the final crane, despite the fact that he took the thirty-nine chains down off his walls and put them in his closet (out of sight, out of mind) he couldn't quite force himself to move the last chain, the incomplete one, from where it was patiently waiting for the last crane – the last link – on his desk, next to the golden box. Thousand eye, thousand cranes, it seemed appropriate. Nor could he bring himself to throw out the last piece of paper.

It was red, with an underside of red foil, and there was a design in gold on the top that somehow made him think of Atemu. He'd never quite been sure of the reason for this, as the design really had nothing to do with Egypt or Pharaohs or spirits that lived in three-thousand year old puzzles. Somehow, however, it did. Probably the coloring: gold, the symbol of royalty, and red like rubies and blood and eyes of crimson, both used in a design that was regal, proud, and one that would always stand out –one which refused to blend in to the crowd….

Listen to him, getting all metaphorical about a scrap of paper.

That bit of paper mocked him, he swore it did, but despite that he still didn't move it. No, it was going to sit right there and wait until he used it, which he wouldn't – he wasn't going to make the last crane – until that bit of hope had been extinguished, because then he didn't need to worry about killing it with a bit of origami. And no, he wouldn't move the paper or the unfinished chain until then because it would seem too much like running away, like hiding. He refused to hide from a piece of paper – he might be a wimp, but he wasn't that much of a wimp.

How stupid. He really was pathetic.

But he couldn't bring himself to move it.

Instead he went through his days, both wanting to finish the chain of origami and not wanting to, because if he did then he would be proven wrong….

Until his grandfather asked him.

"Are you done then, Yuugi?" Sugoroku's smile was so bright – he'd been so proud when he'd learned his grandson was making a Senbazuru. They took patience to complete, after all, and not many teenagers would even start making one, let alone push through for as long as Yuugi had. Then again, not many would spend eight years putting together a puzzle either – a puzzle which they had never seen, which they didn't even know the shape of, which rightfully belonged in a museum, which might have (probably had, actually) lost at least one of its golden pieces in the three thousand years since it had been made. Yuugi had always been unique.

"A… no, jii-chan. Why?"

"Oh." A frown. "Do you need more paper? I can find you some…."

"No, that's fine." Yuugi made a face at himself once his grandpa had left the room, back to the front of the shop again. The bell that signaled someone walking through the door had tinkled, and not a moment too soon.

"Welcome to the Kame Game Shop," he heard through the open doorway, and his grandpa's cheerful voice made him smile. "Was there anything in particular you were looking for?"

The quiet, peaceful drone of voices in the background seemed to fade, leaving Yuugi to think. I really am being stupid – just finish it, then it will be over and… and I don't know, but it will be over and I can stop it already….

And so that night he finally had, if only to stop the paper staring at him.

Fold, fold, unfold, tug, straighten….

One thousand cranes.

He slid the last, the red and gold with the foil glinting brightly in the light of his desk lamp, onto the string and tied it off, then pulled the others from his closet and hung them again. A thousand paper cranes, a Senbazuru, and they were supposed to grant one wish.

Hah.

Oh well, at least it was done. Yuugi fell into sleep as into a tomb.

OoOoO

That night was a strange dream.

Yuugi hadn't seen his soul room since Atemu had left; he'd had no reason to. Or no, maybe it was that he'd see nothing but his soul room, just like he had before? He had no reason to leave, after all, unlike before – no reason to go there, he didn't even know how. It was where he stayed, so perhaps it was all he saw…? No, he lived in his soul room but he didn't see it. He was always there but at the same time he wasn't….

Gah, confusing. This was why he didn't think about paradoxes like this that often; they made his head hurt and honestly served no real purpose. It didn't really matter in any case; he'd thought that he wouldn't ever see the room of his soul again.

That night, however, he had visited it in his sleep, for the first time in nearly half a year.

At first he hadn't realized that it was a dream. The first thing he became aware of was the sound of someone knocking, and so he'd naturally assumed that he'd just fallen asleep and slept without dreams – that it had been one of those vaguely horrible nights where you just wanted to feel like you slept for a long time and it felt more like you had simply blinked – and now his grandfather was knocking at his bedroom door to get him up in time for school. And that simply was not fair, he was far too tired for it to be morning already and he'd thought that today was supposed to be Sunday and… "nnnnnnnn, go away, Jii-chan…."

"Aibou!"

No, sleeping, I-

Wait, Aibou?

Involuntarily, Yuugi twitched. He froze afterwards, not moving, barely daring to breathe, just listening to the silence. Only one person, after all, had ever called him Aibou – to everyone else he was just Yuugi, the shortest kid in his class, the one with the strange hair, the King of Games…. All sorts of things, really, but never Aibou. Only his other self called him that, but that was impossible because he was gone….

"Aibou!"

Oh crap, no, it was a dream and if he opened his eyes then he'd wake up and then he wouldn't see Atemu and that just wasn't fair…. Yuugi lay still in his bed, feeling his heart sinking, as he tried desperately to stay asleep and felt himself failing. Crap, no, it isn't fair, can't I just stay asleep a little while longer so that I can see him…?

"Aibou!" And he sounded so real. His voice, his tone, were both so familiar – a mixture of fond amusement and frustration. "Do you not want me here after all? Let me in! If you don't then I'll just have to leave."

And, despite the fact that he'd been keeping his eyes shut because he didn't want to wake up yet, his eyes flew right open at that remark. And when they did he found – much to his surprise – that he wasn't where he'd expected to find himself.

All right, he was inside, all right, he knew the room that he was in… but his window wasn't there, nor were the fluttering strings of paper cranes, nor his desk – piled high with textbooks and for once clear of puzzles; he'd been working on his cranes lately instead of a Rubix Cube….

Instead there were giant toys – plushies, oversized dice, electronic things that moved when you turned a switch or pressed a button on a remote – scattered across the floor, illuminated just enough in a diffuse light that was neither too dim nor too bright.

Yuugi was in his soul room.

"Aibou!" The affection and exasperation both stronger now. "I can't open this door on my own, you know, I no longer have that right and-"

Yuugi was out of the bed and at the door in a half second, flinging it open and there was his other self standing there, looking mildly bemused at having had the door fly open so suddenly – apparently just as he'd been about to knock on it again, his fist was raised and everything – maybe he'd yanked it away as he was knocking, actually, though if he had the sound had been too soft to hear. Yuugi's amethyst colored eyes met a ruby gaze that he never thought he'd see again, or at least not in this lifetime, and his breath caught in his throat.

Time seemed to freeze -

"Mou… mou hitori no… no boku?"

Atemu smiled then, letting his hand drop back down to his side, and his crimson eyes – such a hard color, you'd have thought – were soft as a cloud. "You seem surprised."

- and then explode, just like a bomb had gone off, boom.

And suddenly Yuugi flung himself at the taller man and grabbed him in a hug so tight that it hurt even him and almost started crying. Not yet, he wasn't there yet – or he wasn't crying with tears, but he was gasping almost as though he already was sobbing. This seemed to alarm Atemu.

"Aibou? Aibou! What's wrong?" Yuugi felt the other looking around them, the movement quick and sharp and protective, and it was so painfully familiar that he almost started crying for real. Even if he couldn't see, he could feel the subtle tensing of muscles as his other self looked around, falling so easily back into his old role as protector – even here, where there should, in theory, be absolutely nothing that could cause him the slightest bit of harm. It was so familiar, suddenly, and somehow painful as well because it couldn't exist anymore.

Yuugi lost the battle and started to cry.

"Aibou! What's the matter? What's wrong?" Atemu still sounded fierce, protective, though now he sounded puzzled as well, doubtless having failed to find anything that appeared threatening to him. And yet here he still was, trying to find where the danger was so that he could protect Yuugi, guard him, just as he always had….

Yuugi, meanwhile, still had his head buried in the cloth over the Pharaoh's heart. "You're wrong!" he yelled into the linen which was growing damp from his tears. Why was he crying, anyway? He was being stupid again – they weren't tears of sorrow, they were the product of his emotions being overloaded beyond all which seemed reasonable. "You're wrong, you… you…." Yuugi pulled back a bit and looked at the other – gold jewelry and crimson burning eyes and tricolor hair and tanned skin and regal features and a confused expression. Yuugi let go of him just long enough to punch him on the arm, as hard as he could, and then grabbed him again, with enough force that – had Atemu possessed ribs in this place – a few might have cracked, apparently so that he could go back to slowly soaking his friend's linen shirt through.

"Aibou…." He sounded so bewildered.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" Yuugi was yelling again, yelling and shaking and hugging so tight that it really was a good thing that they didn't need to breathe here, because if they did there might be problems. And at those words, Atemu – who had still been tense – relaxed a little bit, and if Yuugi had been looking he would have seen the other's features twist a little in something like sympathy and regret. After a few more moments of simply standing there and wondering what to do, however, Atemu decided that some form of action was needed. After a brief struggle, he managed to extricate himself from the other's vice-like grip and then took him by the shoulders and steered him back into the room of his soul, then back over to his bed. Gently, as though his friend's form was hollow and might shatter if not handled with the proper care, he pushed Yuugi back a little so that he sat down on the edge of his mattress and then sat next to him.

Atemu was struck by a wave of déjà vu as he looked down at the smaller form of the other. Yuugi's eyes were hidden by his golden bangs, but his hands were twisting together in his lap and suddenly it felt just like before, when Yuugi had been so worried that he wasn't any good and that Atemu would leave and he would fail or that things would go back to how they had been back before he'd solved the puzzle.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away from Yuugi again. And he wasn't even really sure what he was apologizing for – for leaving? For saying that he would stay when he couldn't? Or was it less then that – was he simply sympathizing with the other? None of them? All?

Atemu resolutely looked down at his shoe for a long moment, staring with such intensity that one might have suspected that he was either trying to divine the greater meaning of the universe from his footwear or else set the thing on fire. Finally he looked back up and smiled at the smaller figure sitting next to him. It wasn't, perhaps, the brightest of smiles, but then that expression would have been out of place, in that moment. This crooked smile, cracked with regret but still plastered on in an attempt to lighten the mood, was much more natural then a more cheerful expression would have been. "I've missed you too."

Yuugi's fingers, which had been twining around each other like snakes, stilled in his lap as he slowly looked up at Atemu, at the cocked head and the crooked smile. Time was doing odd things, as it did sometimes – the moment seemed as though it would stretch on forever, as though time had somehow frozen in place and all that was left was a snapshot, a capture of things in that instant. And then Atemu shifted slightly and the moment broke into a million crystal shards and Yuugi threw his arms around Atemu's neck and started sobbing into his shoulder. He felt very young in that instant, and it was vaguely horrible that there was even this – and yet wonderful at the same time.

Wonderful because the other sitting next to him was there and he was real and he was letting Yuugi cry against him. Horrible because the boy knew that it wouldn't last. Atemu, after all, was dead and he'd already moved on and… and….

The Pharaoh twisted carefully, so as not to dislodge Yuugi's grip again, and then wrapped his arms around the smaller figure and hugged him in return, something which only made Yuugi cry harder. He'd missed his other self, missed him more than even he had known before this. It made sense – Atemu had been the closest friend that he'd ever known, probably the closest that he ever would know. Still, Yuugi had never realized quite how much he'd missed his yami, or at least not until that moment.

Yuugi cried for what felt a very long time as Atemu simply held him and let him – Yuugi couldn't really tell him how grateful he was for that simple act. It was so small yet still so much, to simply let him cry. Yuugi felt a bit like a sponge, actually, one that had been soaked for a very long time and which was now finally having the water wrung out of it – it left him feeling oddly empty, but that wasn't so bad because he felt so much lighter.

When he'd finally cried enough that the tears were no longer blocking the words from his mind and tongue, they practically came tripping out over each other.

"I-It's not like I-I'm n-n-not glad that you got t-to move o-o-on like you were s-s-supposed to." His voice was shaking, his breath still coming in ragged little gasps that interrupted the smooth flow of syllables, chopping them up roughly and unevenly as he continued to cry, not looking at the one to whom he was speaking. Still, despite this he forged on – he needed to say this after all, and waiting until he was calmer would be stupid – chances were that Atemu would be gone by the time he was calmer and how would that have helped? "It's just tha-that I really m-missed y-y-you and it wa-was really w-w-weird without you t-there a-and…." Atemu simply tightened his grip on the other a little, pulling him into a less comforting but fiercer hug.

"I know."

Yuugi continued to cry for a while longer. It wasn't that long, not really, but to him it felt an eternity before he finally managed to get himself to stop and pull away a little. He laughed a bit, though his throat felt swollen and the sound came out distorted.

He coughed before speaking, as though trying to jar his voice back into its normal tones. It wasn't quite successful, but when he did speak at least he sounded a bit more like himself. He thought.

"Sorry about that." He started blushing again, lightly – it seemed that he'd been doing quite a bit of that as of late, and to be honest he was rather tired of it. But even so…. Yuugi sighed, mouth twisting a little.

"Nn." It was a small sound, but one of dissent – Atemu disagreeing with the apology. "Don't be." He sighed a little as well, and it seemed that he was no longer quite as strong as he had been before now that he no longer had to be so for Yuugi. Now that he didn't have to offer his shoulder to cry upon, he didn't have to be quite so unbreakable. "I've missed you too, mou hitori no ore."

Yuugi smiled a little, and although the look was admittedly just a little watery, still it was sincere. "'Mou hitori no ore?' You hardly ever call me that. You were always my other self; I was always your partner."

Atemu laughed a little. "You're right – you were. You are. But you're more then that; you are my other self just as much as I am yours." He shook his head a little, the smile fading slightly from his face. "I've… I've missed you too, mou hitori no ore. Aibou. Yuugi. It's been so strange, not having you there with me."

Yuugi sniffled a little (jeez, he really was acting like he was in grade school) and then looked up at Atemu. "What's it like, anyway? The afterlife, I mean. Anything like what you thought it would be?"

"I…." The Pharaoh's eyes grew distant. "It was, I think, what I had imagined once upon a time, but… but it's also so strange. I hardly know what I was thinking before I stepped through the gates – I don't know if I had given it much thought at all." He laughed – the sound sharp and harsh, almost like a bark. "I don't think that many of us think very much about it, however. We form vague notions of what we believe it might be like and never think far past that." Atemu raised his hand and ran it over his eyes, closing them – it was almost a relief. His eyes could become so very intense so easily; sometimes simply looking into his eyes was what Yuugi had always imagined to be the visual equivalent of holding a red-hot coal close to your heart – or no, more than that. It was more like swallowing that ember and feeling it sear down your throat, feeling it burn you from the inside out.

Atemu shook his head slightly, and the gold that he was wearing chimed. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again and leaned back on his hands, looking at the ceiling. "It is Egypt again – or Kemet, as it was when I reigned – only not and…. I don't know, Aibou. Everyone that I once knew is there, save Mahaado – but then no one expected him to end up in the human afterlife, given what he did to his soul when he turned himself into the Black Magician. He… he changed it, after all. It wasn't necessarily a change for the worse – I've asked him enough times, and never does he say that he regrets a thing that he did – but he certainly is different. In Egyptian Theology, the soul is believed to be broken into five parts – your Ib, Sheut, Ren, Ba and Ka. He fused some of those parts together, he somehow gained a whole new Ren, he… I don't really understand all that he did, actually. Still, no matter what he did, he's certainly different. He turned himself into a shadow creature – he's not really human. He wouldn't have a place in the human afterlife, even if he can visit. It does not work the other way around, of course – monsters cannot and never will be able to summon humans – but he can be called. Especially by me, he always answers my call – just as he vowed that he always would." Atemu smiled, just a little, and Yuugi sighed.

"That sounds pretty nice – just being able to be with the people who you knew when you were alive, being in the place that you knew. I'm sorry I called you away; I shouldn't have bothered you."

Atemu shook his head. "No, don't be – trust me, I don't mind at all. It's pleasant enough in its way, I suppose, but I wasn't really content there. Ironic, really, that it's what I sought so faithfully for all that time…." He laughed a little, softly, and shook his head. "The problem was you. You, and Jounouchi, and Honda, and Anzu, and Bakura – or the Bakura you know, of course, Ryou of the innocent eyes, not the Thief King – and all of the other people that I've met in this time."

Yuugi blinked, not understanding. "Huh?"

Atemu shook his head a little, the motion slightly fond and slightly sorrowful.

"I lived in two different times, Aibou; that's the problem. I have bonds and ties in each of them, and while it's nice to be able to have things as they once were… Yuugi, when I lived then I was merely Pharaoh. It was forbidden to so much as touch a member of the royal family unless you had their express permission, or the permission of Pharaoh. I was the Prince, the Heir. I…" he trailed off and then laughed again, the sound almost mournful. He shook his head at the hopelessness of even trying to explain.

"Yuugi, there is no one from Kemet who was like you. I don't know if there can be. And… and I was so used to you that it seemed a great loss." He smiled a little, and the smile was bitter this time. "That's the problem, I suppose, with having the memories of two lives. Those from one are dead, those from the other are living, and you cannot be with both. Or not immediately anyway, and the time spent waiting can seem long indeed." He sighed.

Yuugi didn't say anything for what felt a long moment, finally sighing as well. "I wish that there was some way that you could have chosen." He looked up at the Egyptian King. "If you could have, what would you have done? Really done I mean, don't just say something because I'm here or… or I don't know."

Atemu smiled a little. "I prefer friends to worshipers. I never knew the difference before, not really, but in Kemet… well, Mana was the closest that I had to a real friend, and even she was still very much in awe of me."

Yuugi made a little face. "That does sound a bit lonelier than what you first said. But still, if you missed me then why didn't you come and see me before this? I'd have gone and visited you if I'd been able to figure out how to do it – believe me, I spent long enough trying and I couldn't, or at least not without killing myself. Sorry, but I didn't feel like doing anything quite that drastic – if nothing else, it would really make Jii-chan sad. Besides, there's the logistics of the thing. I mean, I think it would be a bit harder trying to kill yourself than just saying that."

Atemu's expression was interesting – he looked as though he couldn't decide if he wanted to be amused or disturbed. "Well that's good news, I suppose, I wouldn't want you to be thinking suicide just so that you could see me again when you still have so much of life left that you haven't experienced… but you've thought about the methods?"

Yuugi bit his lip and blushed again. "Not really, and certainly never with an aim to do anything to myself. You might as well live, you know? Besides, most ways that people kill themselves – or at least try – really are pretty stupid. I mean, hanging yourself would hurt your neck and overdosing would both require something more potent than vitamins or a few aspirin, and-"

"I'm not sure if I like the fact that you've thought that much about something like this, Aibou." Atemu glanced sidelong at Yuugi, who blushed.

"I haven't, not really. I just started thinking about it one day when I saw this newspaper article about someone who had killed themselves, and I started thinking that every way that I could think of was really pretty stupid. Even just the idea of killing yourself and I think that's dumb by itself; it doesn't need anything further."

"Mm."

The silence was slightly uncomfortable for a few moments before Yuugi remembered something that was an out. "Wait, you never answered my question! If you missed me too then what on Earth kept you? We've already discussed the reasons I didn't visit you – if you could visit me any time then why haven't you?"

Atemu – slightly grateful that the world had been knocked back into a slightly more recognizable shape – looked at Yuugi and smiled a bit crookedly again. "But I couldn't."

"What?"

"I couldn't visit you anytime. I tried too, believe me, I could never find my way to you. Before tonight, I could never find my way. I don't know why. I don't understand why it was so difficult earlier, why I couldn't ever seem to find you. It was so easy, this time – all I really did was want to see you. Trust me; that was nothing new."

And, at that revelation, Yuugi had swiveled to more or less gape at Atemu with an expression that suggested someone had hit him on the back of the head several hundred times with a wiffle bat in the recent past, an expression that became more dumbfounded (if such a thing were possible) after the Pharaoh finished speaking. "Wh-what?" he spluttered, somewhat incoherently. "No way! Did the cranes actually work or something? But I thought that was just a story!"

Atemu frowned, puzzled. "Cranes?"

"Yea, the cranes – you know, the origami ones! It's called a Senbazuru – you're supposed to get a wish if you make a thousand of them! I made one, mostly just so that I'd have something to do (other than play games – I did enough of that too, but it tends to put you off a bit when everyone and their uncle want to play against you to say that they beat the King of Games, ooooh, and most of them aren't even worth the time), but I wished that I'd be able to see you again and I made the last one tonight before going to sleep and… and…."

Yuugi trailed off, his expression still befuddled. Atemu, however, laughed a little at the other's words – his tone sounded as though he couldn't decide if he wanted to be amazed or amused.

"Aibou, you made a thousand of those things?"

"Yeah – I know it was stupid and all, but I really wanted to see you again." And then Yuugi stopped and shook his head as though trying to clear away the cotton that his brain had apparently been replaced with just now. "Except if it worked then I guess it wasn't so stupid…. But jeez, are you sure that you didn't do anything different tonight? I mean, the Senbazuru is just a story!"

Atemu laughed again. "Perhaps, but stories can certainly hold the truth. I would have thought that you of all people would know that by now."

"Yeah, but… you didn't do anything? Really?"

Atemu shook his head, his expression an incongruous mixture of solemn and mischievous.

Yuugi flopped over backwards, as though all of the bones in his body had suddenly dissolved, and stared at the ceiling. "Really? It worked? Atemu, I never thought that would work. I mean, some bit of me hoped and all, but I never thought that it would actually work. I mean, really!" The boy turned his head and looked up at the other, who was sitting next to him and chuckling softly. "Ah, I'm sorry! If I'd know that it would work I would have finished it sooner!"

Atemu shrugged, somehow making even that simple gesture look both elegant and regal. "You finished it, Aibou – don't worry about the timing."

Yuugi shook his head again and then went back to staring, somewhat blankly, at the ceiling. "That doesn't even make any sense though. I mean, I'm glad it worked and all, but… but there are tons of wishes that people make on Senbazuru that don't come true. I don't know anyone other than me who has actually completed one, but that doesn't change the fact that I know some of the wishes people make. They wish for all sorts of things and none of them have their wishes come true. Why on earth would mine?"

The Egyptian man turned thoughtful, leaning back and supporting himself with his arms as he stared at the ceiling too. After a few long moments, he spoke. "Part of it might have to do with the maker, you know."

Yuugi pushed himself up and looked over at his other self – Atemu automatically straightened his posture as well. "Wait, what do you mean? I was the maker and there really isn't anything all that special about me."

Atemu shook his head, and now all traces of the good humor and merriment were gone from his face. His features were deadly serious. "You're underestimating yourself again, Aibou. You're far more unique then you give yourself credit for. Do you not know how you managed to solve the Sennen Puzzle?"

Yuugi fidgeted. "I didn't give up, that's all – it's really nothing that extraordinary, mou hitori no boku-"

Atemu laughed, almost disbelievingly. "You're the only person in three thousand years who could solve that puzzle and you don't think that it's a feat of note?" He shook his head and smiled a little. "Aibou, you're hopeless. You never give yourself any of the credit that you clearly deserve."

Yuugi, meanwhile, was fidgeting a bit more. "No, really, I was just being me! There are all sorts of other people around who do so much more than me-"

Atemu laughed again, more kindly then last time. "Which is exactly why you're so unique. You never do anything but just be yourself, and look at what that does! Look at who you are!"

"Me?"

Atemu laughed again. "Aibou, I'll never know what do to with you."

Yuugi shook his head again. "I… I don't know, but that still doesn't explain why my wish came true!"

Atemu shrugged. "Magic."

Yuugi stared at him again. It was funny, actually, as well as unfair – no one should be able to create that effect with just one word. Atemu, however, seemed to be able to summon that ability on command, when he so wished. Yuugi couldn't speak for what felt hours, and when he finally did his mouth and throat felt dry. "M-magic?" He swallowed and tried again. "Magic? Mou hitori no boku, there's got to be some mistake. I don't have magic That's you. You're the one who can summon monsters and create illusions and… and…." Yuugi couldn't find words and was reduced, instead, to waving his arms in an attempt to illustrate his point. "That's you! That's not me!"

Atemu's expression turned serious again, though it seemed (to Yuugi anyway, though admittedly he wasn't feeling very stable at the moment) a bit more gentle. "Aibou, there has to be balance in all things. Light could not exist without darkness, for the one defines the other. It's the exact same principle here – I have magic, yes. But because of that you have to have magic or you would never have been able to solve the puzzle. Solving the puzzle released me, after all, and in order for that to happen there had to be an equal and balancing force."

Yuugi just shook his head, but more because he was in denial than because he didn't see and understand what Atemu was saying. "But that still doesn't make any sense – I've never been able to do any of the things that you can."

"Of course you couldn't," Atemu said. "I wield Shadow magic, but if you had the same kind then it would hardly have been in balance – would it?"

Yuugi tried to find a flaw in the reasoning and failed. He shook his head.

"Of course you couldn't have Shadow magic, but you would need to have some kind of equal and opposite force. Some kind of Light magic."

Yuugi shook his head again. "But I've never done anything even remotely -"

"Except for this, perhaps?"

Yuugi's mouth snapped shut. "You probably only need a proper catalyst, and the cranes served as one, but that doesn't make it less magic. Shadow powers, after all, work at their strongest and best when paired with a game – any kind of game, it doesn't matter what it is – and it doesn't make them less like magic."

Yuugi couldn't say much in response to that, but then perhaps that was because he didn't really feel that he could think much at the moment either.

"Magic?" he finally whispered, looking down at the hands that were sitting in his lap. "Magic, mou hitori no boku?"

Atemu almost looked sad. "Balance is required in all things."

Yuugi laughed a little, though it seemed more a sound of near-hysteria than one of amusement. "But… but I'm just Yuugi!"

Atemu smiled at him. "You are many things, Aibou, but I don't believe that you could place the word 'just' before any of them. I told you, you are unique. You have magic. It's not the same kind of magic that I possess, so it would work by different rules and will do different things, but it's still magic. The nature of Shadow magic is to conceal, to lock and to bind or unmake. I can only assume that yours would work most easily in the other direction – illumination, unlocking, unbinding, creation." And suddenly, as he spoke that word, Atemu's face froze – he resembled something carved from marble, his expression almost blank.

"Creation," he murmured again. "Illumination, unlocking, unbinding…."

"Ah… mou hitori no boku?"

And suddenly the marble was gone and it was Atemu again, as Yuugi had known him, his crimson eyes like fire and his gaze as sharp as a razor blade. And then the young Pharaoh of Kemet looked over at Yuugi, and his eyes were like lasers. "Yuugi, would you be willing to fold another thousand paper cranes for me?"

Yuugi blinked, somewhat confused. "Ah… yea, sure. Why?"

Atemu simply smiled at him for a moment before explaining what he was thinking.

Atemu knew the powers and limits of his own magic – he knew them intimately and well, having the experiences of not just one but two separate timelines to draw on. He therefore knew what they could do, and because of that he figured he had a good idea what Yuugi's magic could do. Creation. If Yuugi wanted, as Atemu explained, then he could try folding another Senbazuru to see if he could bring Atemu back on a slightly more permanent basis then simply a dream.

If the paper acted as a catalyst for his magic, it just might work. It should work. And if it worked (if Yuugi wanted to try, of course – he didn't have to if he didn't want to, if Yuugi didn't want to have Atemu hanging around all the time then he certainly didn't need to try) then Atemu could come back, could have his own physical form, could finish living out the second of his two lives with the friends he had made and with his other self….

Yuugi stared for a long moment. "You… you think that I could do that? Really?"

"If you wanted," Atemu said.

"What am I waiting for?? How do I wake up? I have to start folding cranes!!"

OoOoO

Yuugi, to his great joy, was awoken only a few moments later by his grandfather opening the door and walking softly into the room. His eyes fell on the strings of cranes, and his gaze lit up.

"Ah, Yuugi! You finished!"

"Yea," Yuugi said, looking at the thousand paper cranes that were poised to fly, outstretched wings reaching out like a blessing. "Yea, I did." He started laughing, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. "But you know what? I still need quite a bit more paper."

His grandfather looked up from where he'd been admiring the cranes. "Eh? Why?"

"I need to make another one!"

"You what??"

But Yuugi only laughed, almost tumbling out of his bed and then running down the hall to the kitchen, where he folded his first crane out of newspaper, over a bowl of cereal.

OoOoO

Six months later, Atemu still laughed at it. Yuugi varied in his reactions, either blushing or teasing back – it was kindly meant, however, so it was just fine by him. Most things were fine by him, actually. The greater part of the world felt – and there really wasn't any other word – fantastic.

"I still can't believe that it only took you two days," Atemu would laugh.

"I had motivation!" Yuugi would always say, his tone almost defensive.

"Even so, Aibou." The Pharaoh would laugh again.

Atemu still called Yuugi Aibou. Yuugi's nickname for Atemu, however, would have caused a few more problems. Because of this, it had been changed.

"Aniiiiiiiii!" Now, instead of 'my other self,' Yuugi called Atemu 'big brother.' It had been Atemu's idea, actually, though Yuugi had fallen in love with it. It was true as well – physically, as close as they could tell, Atemu was about a year older then Yuugi. As to how old he actually was… well, there he was certainly older then Yuugi. "It's not like you don't appreciate it," he would point out.

"Certainly true, Yuugi."

And Yuugi would smile and in the background, life would go on. Only this time, things were right.

OoOoO

Reviews are how I survive. Please help the worthy cause?

At the moment this is only supposed to be a oneshot. I do have a few ideas, however, on other places that I could develop it… if I ever get a real plot out of those, I might continue. But for right now…? Hope you enjoyed it.