The smoky air around me glowed red and orange with the fire burning behind it. I spun around, looking for an exit, my friends, anything. I panted for oxygen, but mostly inhaled smoke, and coughed before I could have the chance to exhale it.

"Yuugi!" I called, my voice drowned out by the crackling, cracking, and shifting of the burning building I was trapped inside. He was in here, somewhere, but I couldn't see anything. My eyes watered and stung, and I tried to blink away the sensation. "Yuugi, where are you?"

I heard someone cough, but I couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. My head whipped around, trying to find the source through the haze, but all I could see was the smoke swirling around me.

"Yuugi!" I tried yelling out one more time, but before the echo of my voice faded off, the building shuddered, and the following crash jolted me awake.

I sat straight up in bed, eyes wide as I panted. The air was free of smoke, and the only sound was that of the fan on my desk, rustling the papers beside it.

I took a few moments to catch my breath, then reached over to my bedside table, sliding open the one small drawer. Taking the little blue notebook and matching pen from inside, I rolled over onto my stomach, writing out all that I remembered of my dream.

This was a habit I had picked up from my mother. She had always been able to recall her dreams in incredible detail, and when I expressed jealousy at the idea, she told me that she wrote down every dream that she could remember, even if it was the smallest thing. I had immediately taken to the habit, and now, my mom and I would often make time to discuss our dreams with each other. Though, we usually just discussed mine. She often marvelled over how 'precognitive' my dreams were, though most of the time, it involved tiny details, like a moment of cooking in the kitchen, or a small story on the news that popped up the next day. Most of the time, it was fun. My mom's enthusiasm only made me enjoy it all more, although I couldn't begin to explain it to anyone outside of the house. A lot of people would chalk my mom's love of metaphysical things up to being occult garbage.

As if my mom would care. Instead, she focused on what she loved.

Sometimes, though, my mom would take my dreams less lightly. She told me my dreams more frequently came to fruition, and when I reminded her that they were usually stupid little things, she'd tell me that my dreams also would show me things much nearer in the future than hers did. I was never sure if she was saying that so I would take my dreams more seriously, or if it was the truth.

Then, there were times that I had dreams like these, that scared me. Nightmares always scared me more than necessary, because I was scared they would come true. Most of the time, they didn't, but there were a few little occasions. Never anything major, thankfully, but it felt like it was a matter of when, not if.

When I finished writing the dream down, I made a note to talk to my mom about this one as soon as possible, then checked the time. My alarm hadn't gone off yet, but I only had a half hour before it did, so I decided to get up early. Trying to sleep that last half hour would only make me feel groggy in the long run.

I tried to put the dream out of my head as I got ready for school. It had been a few days since the whole Otogi incident, and with Sunday right around the courner, I was ready for the day off of school. This week had dragged on, and I was ready for it to be over.

Even by the time I got to school, despite my efforts to distract myself, I couldn't think about anything other than that dream. It was scary. A burning building with my friend trapped inside. I didn't like the idea of it. I just hoped when I saw my friends at school, it would help me relax.

But, when I got to the lockers just inside, they weren't there, where I often saw them. My brain immediately wanted to think the worst, but I shook my head to clear it and switched into my indoor shoes. Getting paranoid wasn't going to help anything.

I headed up to my classroom. They weren't there either. Makoto was, though, sitting at his desk, talking, or being talked to, by a frantic Critias. From the sounds of it, the blond had forgotten to do his homework and was begging to borrow Makoto's before class started. As Makoto handed the papers to him, I sat sideways in the seat in front of Makoto and set my bag at my feet, drawing their attention.

Makoto spoke first, looking a bit confused. "'Morning. You alright?"

"You look a little worried," Critias chipped in, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Critias, somehow, was better at picking up on other people's emotions than even Makoto. He, however, also thought worst-case-scenario more than anyone I knew.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a weird nightmare."

Critias nodded as well. "Those're the worst. M'sorry." The blond moved to sit in the seat behind Makoto, presumably to get started on copying Makoto's homework.

I turned to Makoto. "It's not just me being distracted-Yuugi isn't here, right?"

Makoto looked even more confused. "Right. You sure you're okay? That's kind of a weird thing to say."

"I know, but... It was just that nightmare. I can't stop thinking about it. I was in a building that was on fire, looking for Yuugi, and I couldn't find him. And he's not here yet." I sighed heavily, looking out the window.

My heart dropped. A column of black smoke rose from a building in the distance. It couldn't be a coincidence. There was no way.

"Mara?"

I barely heard Makoto's voice, but I realized I'd risen to my feet. I couldn't just stay here and not know.

"Mara, hold on a second-"

Before Makoto could try to stop me, I was running, out of the classroom and then the building, only pausing long enough to switch back into my outdoor shoes before sprinting toward the smoke as fast as my legs would carry me.

People stared as I passed, but I paid them no mind. I was locked on the smoke column, following it all the way to an alley, where a cheap card table laid on it side, as if throw over. Behind it, the walls of the alley were plastered with white papers that had red arrows printed on them. They were pointing every which way.

I didn't let those distract me, keeping my eyes on the smoke as I made my way through the buildings. As I got closer, I began to smell the smoke, and when the buildings gave way, I found myself looking at an old warehouse, up in flames.

Firemen and trucks surrounds the structure, and in the midst of them stood Anzu.

Not a coincidence.

I ran to her, grabbing the sleeve of her uniform, making her jump. "Anzu, what's going on?"

Her gaze on me was incredulous. "Mara? What are you doing here?"

I shook my head. "Long story. What's happening?"

She looked to the building. "That's a long story too..."

"Short version?" I was almost begging at this point. I needed answers.

"Someone stole Yuugi's Millennium Puzzle, and I went to get Jonouchi and Honda. We found our way here, but by then, the building was already on fire..."

"So... Yuugi's inside...?"

Anzu nodded.

I wanted so many more answers, but I was sure she didn't have them.

"How long have they been in there?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure exactly, but a while..."

I nodded, staring at the open doorway. They were inside, and I didn't know how long for. Maybe it didn't matter. What mattered was that they all came out of there alive.

Then, before I could grow any more distressed, two familiar figures burst from the building, and a moment later, I realize that Jonouchi and Honda had Yuugi with them, carrying him. His hands were clutching the Millennium Puzzle to his chest, but it was obvious he was unconscious.

Anzu and I ran forward to meet them, and Jonouchi's expression easing my nerves.

"It's alright, Yuugi's fine!" he told us, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "He recompleted the Puzzle inside of the fire. He wouldn't let go of it, no matter how hard we tried to pull him away."

My eyebrows rose. "It got broken?"

"I guess so."

Even though it appeared Yuugi would be alright, he was loaded into an ambulance, and we all headed to the hospital, where Jonouchi and Honda got bandaged up, and we waited for Yuugi to wake up. When they asked me about it, I was vague about my explanation for being there. I didn't think I could explain to them that it was because of a dream. We had all seen some crazy stuff, but I still wasn't sure they would believe me.

We were at the hospital for a good chunk of the day, and didn't go back to school. I slunk back home around the time I normally would. When I pushed open the front door, I was greeted by the old radio my mom had owned since probably forever, blasting the top forty station.

So, Dad definitely wasn't home.

"Mom! I'm home!" I yelled over the music, slipping out of my shoes and pushing them neatly out of the way with my foot.

Then, my mom hurried into the room to lower the volume on the radio—only enough that we could speak over it, of course—her hair in a messy bun and one arm loaded with old books. It was Mom in her natural state.

"Is it that late already? Whoops!" she twittered, pushing a stray lock of wavy brown hair behind her ear.

"You look like you've been busy," I spoke with a grin, stepping up onto the tatami mat floor. "Where's Dad at?"

"Oh, he got invited for drinks with some of his coworkers. It's just you and me for dinner tonight." She set her stack of books on the counter. "I was thinking we could have a little girls' night out! There's this new curry place that opened near my favourite bookstore that I've honestly been dying to try."

I blinked. I couldn't remember the last time my mom had suggested going out to eat when it wasn't someone's birthday, or some other occasion. However, she had quite the weakness for curry.

"That sounds fun, sure."

"Oh, good! If you want to go get changed, I still have to clean up all my books. We can go after that!"

I only had enough time to say, "Okay," by the time she had scooped up her books and was headed out of the room. Sometimes, I was sure she had three brains, all doing completely different things all at once.

I made my way out of the room as well, trotting down the stairs to my room and setting my school bag at the foot of my bed. I didn't rush to change, knowing my mom likely had a lot to clean up. First, I moved for another bag, my purse. A small, blue, canvas backpack, nearly empty. I rarely used it, since I didn't tend to leave the house much outside of school. Until recently, anyway.

I transferred a couple things from the school bag into the backpack, such as my phone and wallet, then grabbed my dream journal from my nightstand, plopping it inside. Maybe I'd get a chance to talk to my mother about it.

Who was I kidding? She'd likely ask if I had any recent interesting dreams before I even had a chance to bring it up.

I zipped the bag up and approached my closet, picking an outfit that reflected the warmer evenings. A cardigan still ended up stuff in my purse, though, just so I could tell my mom I brought one.

As I was finishing braiding my hair over my shoulder, my mom called for me.

"Mara, are you ready?"

"Just finishing a braid. Are you?"

"What's that mean? Of course I am!"

I chuckled to myself, pulling my hair tie from my wrist to close off the end of the braid. "I'm heading up, then." I snagged my backpack from my bed on my way back upstairs, finding my mom waiting for me in the kitchen. She'd only changed her comfortable pants for nicer black ones, and her hair was in a slightly less messy bun. Still Mom.

As I stepped into the pair of sneakers I kept near my school loafers, I grinned at her. "We're ready, then?"

"We are," she hummed, picking her purse up from the counter beside the front door as she led the way out. Hers was perhaps more practical, a burlap shoulder bag with a beautiful sun motif on the side, but it had been ripped and sewn back so many times, I didn't understand why she wasn't ready for a new one yet.

Stepping back out of the house, I locked the door behind us. "So, bus?"

She grimaced. "Unfortunately. That poor car is on its way out. I doubt it'll ever run like it used to."

I frowned, turning to join her on the driveway so we could head down the street. "It got a lot of years to it, though."

"It was your grandfather's first, so I would say so," she twittered.

I'd never met my father's father, as he'd passed away before my parents had adopted me, but a lot of my dad's belongings were originally his. "Well, just because it's about done doesn't mean we have to get rid of it."

She shook her head. "We haven't even considered it. It's not like we'd get anything out of it anyway. Besides, your father is convinced that he will get it fixed back up."

I tilted my head. "Why? He doesn't use it for work or anything."

"He's more sentimental that he shows. And just between us, I think he likes the idea of being able to tell his coworkers that he's fixing up the family car."

I laughed. "That sounds like him."

We chattered the rest of the way to restaurant. At times like these, I was reminded how grateful I was to be as close to my mother as I was. I didn't know many people my age who would be as happy to casually hang out with either of their parents like this, no matter how great their family life was. As I'd gotten older, my mom had become more casual with me in general. I think once I hit my teenage years, she found it easier to back off of the least fun parts of parenting. Whatever she considered that to be. While she still had very parental moments, she didn't have any friends she spent time with, at least not that I knew of. At some point, it seemed I'd become mature enough to her to be able to fill that space for her. It may not have been conventional, but I was happy to take that role.

In the curry house, we were seated, ordered drinks, and were left for a bit. My mom was already speed reading the menu. Knowing her, she was looking for something specific. And, it looked like she found it, as she set the menu aside. I'd... just get whatever she was planning on getting.

"So," I started, stacking my menu on hers, "did you tell Dad we would be going out for dinner?"

"No, but we should beat him home anyway. If we don't, he'll know we went somewhere with the door being locked."

I nodded. "He doesn't go out with coworkers often. Did something exciting happen?"

"Oh, I think someone was promoted? Or was someone retiring? I can't remember. Maybe it was both." She shook her head. "Anyway, it's good for him to do something different."

I chuckled, but nodded, reaching for my water. My mom may have been a bit of an airhead, but no one could say she wasn't supportive.

"What's been going on with you, though?" she continued. "Summer break is coming up soon, right?"

"Kind of. In July."

"Oh, I was thinking June for some reason. How about your singing lessons, then?"

I smiled. "I think those have been going well. I love working with Ms. Yukimura. She's so... She finds really fun ways to approach things. Plus, I'm her only Tuesday appointment, so I get a little extra time sometimes. Like this last week, she helped me with a song I'd written. We reworked it a little, and it sounds really awesome."

"That's wonderful! You'll have to make sure you thank her when you're famous; give her a big boost in business."

I laughed. "Don't worry, I already promised her I would. Credit goes where it's due."

Before the conversation could continue, the waiter came back with our drinks—an iced tea for my mom, and iced green tea for me—and took our orders. My mom was apparently just planning on getting the katsu curry, but since I had hardly looked at the menu, I had to stick with my plan of ordering the same.

The moment the waiter turned away, my mom asked the question I'd been expecting. "So, how about dreams? Anything interesting lately?"

An automatic frown pulled the courners of my lips down. "Well, yeah, actually."

Immediately, my mom's expression turned concerned. "What is it?"

I shifted nervously in my seat. "I... had a scary dream last night, and it predicted something that happened today," I explained sullenly as I reached for my purse, beginning to unzip it and pulling out my dream journal. Opening it up to the most recent page, I slid it across the table to her.

Confused, but curious, she took the notebook and began to read. As she did, I sipped silently at my green tea, waiting.

"Is this about the fire in that old building today?" she asked when she finished, looking up at me. "I saw that on the news."

"Yeah. And three of my friends ended up in it, Yuugi included. They're all fine, but it was really scary..."

"It was during school hours, wasn't it?"

I grimaced. Oh yeah. "Uhm... kind of. It was the beginning of the school day, but... I had the dream, and I got to school and Yuugi wasn't there. Then I looked out the window and saw smoke, and... I panicked. So I left school to go check it out. I went with them to the hospital after, too... Sorry, Mom," I sighed.

She frowned, but shook her head. "I understand, honey. You don't go missing school on a whim, I know that much. Just don't make a habit of it. Your grades are still important, but I'm glad your friends are alright."

I nodded. "As long as they don't make a habit of ending up in burning buildings, I should keep pretty good attendance."

I reached across the table to pull my dream journal back toward me, flipping through the pages. "There hasn't been much else recently, though. And it's not that I feel like I'm not remembering them. I just feel like I haven't had that many dreams."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," she told me, twisting a ring on her middle finger. "Perhaps you've been more tired than normal, or there isn't that much you need to know right now."

I frowned. It felt like there was an abundance of things I could learn that would give me a better perspective on what had been going on. But, that wasn't for me to decide, it seemed.

"Doesn't feel that way," I sighed, closing the notebook and putting it back into my bag.

"No dreams about that dragon of yours, then?"

Shaking my head, I leaned back against the back of the booth. "None. And at this point, it'd probably be more due to my obsessing over it than anything."

"That's possible, but not the only option. I think you'd know the difference."

"Hopefully," I concluded. This subject was wearing on me. With such a lack of progress, I was starting to think I was doing something wrong.

For the rest of our dinner, I kept the talk mainly focused on what she'd been doing. Once I asked her about why she'd been lugging that stack of books around, she was happy to divulge the information.

I was interested, but I had a hard time focusing. My brain was on the Blue-Eyes again. I had dreams about the dragon all the time when I was a child. Now that this had all somehow found its way into my life again, why was it different? If I started having dreams about it again, maybe it wouldn't feel like I was chasing after nothing. I knew something was there, but was it slipping away? There had to be a reason for it all.

Didn't there?