Aaah... my first multi-chapter YGO-fic. Slightly silly, slightly farfetched and well, stupid. But I hope you'll like it.

Pairings; Kaiba/Atemu, Bakura/Atemu.
Warnings; Bakura-language, lazy editing, violence, boy/boy love and... uhm... crazy author.
Summary; After returning to a world in which he was never meant to be, the only thing keeping Atemu from regretting his return is love. But when the Gods start having second thoughts, the former Pharaoh must prove he has a reason to keep on living or be forced to return to the afterlife. This is proving to be harder than he thought as everything bit by bit starts to crumble around him. The King of Games never loses, but in a game of love, hate, deceit and purpose, can he really win?
Disclaimer; Oh please. You and I both know who owns them, so stop rubbing it in my face.

If it's worth continuing, please do tell me or otherwise I'll be torturing our Pharaoh in vain, won't I?

Chapter One
Trial of Hearts

Atemu groaned morosely as he sat down, slowly and warily like an old, brittle man. His teeth were grid together furiously, a look of pure and naked determination set on his strained features. Atemu wasn't one to let discgracious emotions seep through his outer mask of dignity and pride. But sometimes, on very rare occasions, the pain was just a tiny bit stronger than he was and didn't hesitate proving this with all its might. Before the former Pharaoh could stop himself, a nasty hiss of pain slipped through his lips.

From somewhere beside him, there came a disdainful sigh.

''What are you jabbing on about now?'' Bakura snarled in irritation, his eyes opening slightly to glare at him in indignation.

Atemu fought hard and brave to regain his royal mask, the bloodred eyes gleaming mysteriously in the dim lights. He clenched his fists, steadied his dizzy mind and through the fog of pain he shouted commands at his brain which no sane person would ever disobey. The 3 lbs behind his skull almost sighed sullenly.

''It hurts'' the Pharaoh stated in poorly concealed discomfort.

Bakura snorted, a humorless sneer upon his face.

''Of course it hurts. It's a royal pain in the ass, it's supposed to hurt.''

The King of Games glared thinly at him, the humor sliding off him like grime. The former spirits' eyes met, and a resentful tension sparkled between them. Atemu was not in the mood to be shunned, and even less he felt like being humiliated. Then of course it was the worst one, which he avoided like one would avoid a multiple-headed monster with exceptionally bad breath; pity.

This, he guessed, was the sole reason that he was sitting in a room with Bakura of all people, when he could as well have been sitting with someone less… homicidal. The tomb robber sat gleefully in the tattered armchair, eyeing the Pharaoh like a predator eyes its dinner. Whatever lurked inside those mad, malignant eyes of his, Atemu could never be completely sure of. What he could be certain of, at least, was that the thief was never going to pity him. Hate him, plot how to bring upon his gruesome death, yes, this was highly likely. But pity? Never in a million years.

''Imagine my wrath then'' Bakura said ''when I realized that the man I had spent not only the previous lifetime, but the current one as well, to murder was going to have casual chitchat with me. I swear Pharaoh, sometimes you're like despicable mold''

Atemu snorted, finally getting into the armchair he had been trying to climb the last five minutes. Even though it sort of saddened him, there was truth to the Thief King's words. He could never have guessed that someone who had spent the past trying to bring his Kingdom to its knees, defiling his father's grave and nearly killing him more times than he could ever count, and then the current lifetime doing the exact same thing but in a more modern, secret fashion, was residing in his very own living room. The creepy and odd thing about it was that he still had all his blood inside his body.

But then again, he mused grimly, that was all in the past. Ancient Egypt and the kingdom he and his father, and his father before him, had ruled and made flourish, had since long ago fallen into oblivion. No one remembered his name, and up until recently he hadn't done so either. No one would know about the battles they fought, the victories they gained and the losses they suffered during those dark, dark years. Bravery would go down the drain, wasted on the ignorance of mankind. There would be no tales of their sacrifice and nothing to tell about the hatred. Bakura's sole purpose for living had been washed away by the sands of time and perhaps with it had also Atemu's.

The former Pharaoh sighed, and despite the throbbing, screaming pain pulsating through his veins, this physical agony seemed far off and distant. Like it was not actually there, or like he wasn't actually there. Looking through a dusty old veil at a world which had no use for him, no remembrance and no nothing. He might as well have been just a spirit still, because honestly it would have made no difference. Atemu turned his head towards his side, looking silently at his life long enemy and mortal nemesis.

Bakura glared heatedly back at him, and still his eyes were so very cold. Three thousands and more years of pain, darkness and harsh, harsh nights had marked them, scarred that evil grin of his and the very aura that surrounded him. For a fickle, tratiourous moment, Atemu thought it looked fairly... good. Like that familiar old teddybear you always cling to in times of peril, even though you don't spend it any attention otherwise. Like the white haired scoundrel was the only thing which actually proved his existence, the only trace of his past that still lingered on. He muttered harshly at his thoughts, demanding they go away. But for once they disobeyed the royalty's words and left the Pharaoh feeling very tormented. Do you enjoy tormenting me, pitiful mind? He snarled at them, but they only answered him with silence.

Silence and light, nearly inaudible laughs. As if they knew something he himself did not.

''How did you manage being so brutally clumsy, anyway?'' Bakura drawled bitterly, as if the words tasted foul and putrid.

''You know how in Egypt there never is any ice?'' Atemu said, eyes passionate and glowing with that stubborn pride, but his face softer this time, his voice almost humorous in a very sarcastic, dark way.

''Yes, I think I might have noticed that once or twice.''

''Well, let's just say Japan is slightly different on that part.''

Bakura snorted, grinning ever so slightly.

''That's not the only thing different from Egypt, I suppose''

Atemu shrugged loosely, looking darkly at nothing.

''Yes, I know'' he sighed, closing his eyes as he leant back into the chair.

The sinister, furious pain in his back from the not so nice slip he had endured earlier on beforementioned ice, clawed rabidly at his senses. The former spirit tried to ignore them, but they still managed to draw out the occasional growl. Bakura watched him silently, wondering when everything went so wrong. How come he, the greatest thief of them all, ended up failing his life mission so miserably? Not only had he not succeeded in killing the damn Pharaoh, but also they had started talking like… like… dared he even think it? It was too horrible to even momentarily ponder about. Bakura bit his teeth down harshly.

They were conversationing like regular, civilized people.

Look at him there, the white haired man growled to himself. He's sitting right there, spacing off into nothing, his throat unguarded. If Bakura only leaped for it, grabbed the nearest sharp object he could find he could have it all over in seconds. Plus, the Pharaoh was injured and would not be moving, or reacting, as quickly as usually. So why didn't he? Why was he just sitting there in that stupid armchair about as useless as a used tampon? In the two years that had passed since the whole melodrama that had been the story of their life was over, he had had so many chances to actually strike the other man dead that it was almost ludicrous.

But no, of course not, as fate would have it, he hadn't slit the man's throat open. He hadn't shot him dead and splattered his brain across the carpet. He hadn't decapitated his limbs and shoved them into the blender. And of course, he had not so conveniently pushed the damn man down the damn stairs when he actually had the opportunity to. And why? Well that was a very good question and Bakura often found himself asking it as well. The thing was, he never got a proper answer.

It wasn't that he didn't have the answer, because well, on some plane he guessed he did. It was just that the answer was so mind blowing absurd that he felt stupid just considering telling himself about it. Yes, the King of Thieves had never been considered to be much of a sane man, but there were lines even he had yet to cross.

''I hate you'' he growled, making Atemu lift a curious eyebrow.

''Oh? Well, that I hadn't noticed.''

''Are you mocking me, pharaoh?''

Atemu's lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to smile but had forgotten how to. The tomb robber glared at him so savagely furious it would have sent Ammit running.

''I should kill you right now'' he snarled, voice dripping from the poison in his words.

Atemu though, didn't look even the tiniest bit bothered. In fact, he looked sort of content.

''But you won't''

He looked like he was in fact not in the same room as a man whose biggest ambition had been to rip his very spine out. This, if possible, angered Bakura further and he was almost close to leaping out of his chair, but in the last second chose not to. He ruffled his white locks angrily, leaning back against the chair with a very disliking scowl.

''I really, really, really hate you, Pharaoh.''

Atemu smiled now, melancholy evident in the gesture.

''At least something is like it used to be, then.''

''Yes'' Bakura muttered irately, his eyebrow twitching, eyes darker than the shadow realm. ''It appears so.''

He wondered what had happened, what had become of them and their world. Nothing was the way it used to be, the way it was supposed to be, the way it should be. It was as if fate just decided to roll over and die in their faces, deciding their own destiny with just a simple toss of a dice. It had left them empty, hollow and useless. Atemu had no country to rule and no citizens to protect, no titles to claim. Yes, he still had Yugi, didn't he? But eventually, they all had to grow up. He was not really a child anymore, was he? After all, Atemu had been gone for a long time. Yugi must have accustomed to this new way of living, that cold echoing hole inside his heart. He felt it too, didn't he? Atemu sure did.

Bargaining with the Gods, pleading endlessly to them, offering them everything just for the chance to go back, had it all been in vain? Had he left Aaru for nothing? Just to reside in the world as nothing more than and old shadow of what once was? At least, with Yugi, he had had a purpose. He had been someone, he had had a purpose and a sense of direction and even though his memory was lost into the darkness, at least he had his partner. But just like the rest of the world, the little man, not so little anymore, went on with his life, walking down the path of his own future. Perhaps, Atemu often found himself pondering, his future had already been used.

He did not belong in this era, after all. He was supposed to be dead, twice now, and yet there he was. Just a ghost, a phantom with a body of flesh and blood and tissue and his soul, yes his soul had its own host now. He was reborn, for the third time, and supposedly, hopefully the last one too. No wonder the world held no regards of him, he wasn't even supposed to be there. He and Bakura, they were strangers in a time which they had no right to intrude. Anachronisms, if you may.

So what now? Atemu asked himself, What now will I do? What could he do? He had a place to stay and his own bed and his own clothes, his own deck and his own shoes to walk through life with. But he had already seen and done so much, what was left? When the others were studying he really had no one to socialize with, and having been born thousands of years ago, there were no records of him stating his very existence. The former great Pharaoh, the proud Atemu and the sly Yami he was, King of Games and all that, he wasn't even there. He had his name, yes, finally after all his struggles, but to what extent? No one seemed to know it anyway. It was hard enough to trick people into believing he was Yugi's relative, but keeping curious eyes away from digging further into this lie was a full-time task. Of course, very often people mistook him for Yugi and well, in a way he was Yugi too but… it was all so very complicated.

The one to take his return the grimmest though, had to be Kaiba Seto. The look on the CEO's face when he had gotten the news, let alone seen it for his own eyes, had been priceless. If Bakura would have seen it Atemu did not doubt that it would have sent the tomb robber to a laughing grave. Seto's face had strained more than usually, that taut mouth twitching oddly and the blue eyes storming, raging with emotions which the Pharaoh could not recognize. Perhaps it had been rivalry, or anger, resent, frustration… he really did not know, there were so many possible alternatives. But that wasn't the weirdest thing about it, not even near.

In just two years time, Atemu had found himself back in life, with his own body, his only company being his lives-long mortal enemy and a very embarrassing and horrifyingly unexplainable atrocity that had sent said enemy into what was most likely a fit of well… sinister delight. This atrocity, which Atemu didn't really regard as one but saying it out loud really made him feel funny, was a little fickle thing called love. Yes, Atemu had, in some way he did not yet comprehend, developed feelings for the last person he would have ever thought he would fall for. Perhaps he had just been lonely, desperate after something to cling to, something that was entirely his, something in this world that actually recognized him as an entity. Maybe his newly gained body had just gone high wired with hormones seeing how it hadn't really had any in the last millennia or so, and this was simply a matter of confusion and lust.

Atemu didn't know, still, eight months into the relationship he was left clueless as of how this could possibly be true. But somewhere along the way he guessed, he didn't have any use of that obsessive rivalry, that urge to always battle against him. There was nothing left to prove, nothing left to claim and thus the competitive race the two of them had been running for so many years, it was left useless, unneeded. This little want for superiority that the two of them had shared, it had crumbled and dissolved into nothing of meaning anymore. Their old relationship, their old battle for dominance and honor, it was useless. But still that obsession lingered, powerful and hungry, demanding attention. This obsession, this game, it had mutated into something else, something blending in with lust and determination and to be fair, they had always perplexed each other, as if spellbound by the other's mere being.

Now, when all the obstacles that had previously lain between them were removed, the only thing left for them was the raw, fierce wanting. They needed each other because otherwise their lives would be so gruesomely hollow. They existed as that force, that balance which kept the other going, thriving for perfection, improvement, victory. When Atemu had gone to the afterlife, Seto had been left non victorious and almost meaningless. What had been left? His company yes, and his brother, of course, but when that only obstacle between him and the place on the throne, the final conquest was gone… well, suddenly, being perfect felt so abnormally lonely. Seto had never really noticed this before. Before it had been him, him and only him that mattered. He and Mokuba, the company, the title of King of Duelists, it was all that mattered, that was important. But then Yugi and that damn Pharaoh had just waltzed into his life and slowly picked it apart.

Honestly, Kaiba thought he would have enjoyed living in a world where his fiercest opponent did not exist, but he had, for the first time in his entire life, been so completely and utterly wrong. It left him about as puzzled as it left Atemu and everyone else once they heard about it. Frankly, on some days Atemu still couldn't really believe it. But it was good, in a way, because more often than so he found himself thinking that without Seto he would truly have gone as insane as Bakura. And that was a fate that did not really allure him.

Bakura groaned, bored out of his mind, turning restlessly in the chair.

''I have no world to destroy, no kingdom to ruin and no games to win.'' He snarled, looking vicious and dangerous, like he always did. ''Why in the flaming bits of hell am I here?''

Atemu looked at him, clueless.

''Actually, I've been wondering that as well.'' He said.

And it was true. He himself had begged the Gods, every last one of them that he could get a hold of and after what had felt like an eternity of this disgraceful, disgusting pleading, they had granted him a new chance at living. Of course he had been warned that it may not be as satisfactory as he wanted to believe. But Atemu, stubborn and independently passionate, had not heeded the warnings in the slightest. Plummeting back into existence, a far more agonizing experience than one would think, he had been thrown out into a world which regarded him as nothing but a stranger. Atemu knew this, he knew why he was alive and for what reasons. But to see Bakura there, on that sidewalk, it had all been so… strange. The thief had not asked to live again, had not begged or pleaded or bargained or anything of the sort. It seemed as if he was just as clueless as Atemu, and this more than anything agitated him.

''Well'' Bakura said, standing up in that flexible way that seemed unique for him, his lithe body stretching out the tiredness ''Since you're the greatest bore there is, I think I'll be heading back to my place.''

Atemu smirked at that.

''Then I wonder how boring your life must be to even make you consider keeping me company.''

Bakura shot him a warning glare, his mouth thin and face ominous. Then, his mouth opened like a nasty cut, revealing a sadistic grin of his own. That insanity that so often roamed his eyes, made him look almost frightful.

He grabbed his jacket in a supple movement, draping in the black fabric, throwing the cascades of white hair back over his shoulders. With one last threatening glare, the tomb robber readied himself for his departure.

''If you only knew, Pharaoh'' his voice echoed, before the man was gone out the door.

Left in his solitude, like still in his tomb, Atemu stood only listening to the silence. Finally he let out a deep sigh, drawing slender fingers through soft, dark, red tinted hair. He shook some golden strands out of his tanned, majestic, shapely face, strong gaze burning a whole through the nothingness that surrounded him. Yes, the world was indeed a lonely place for a ruler, especially when there was nothing left to rule. His bruised back groaned irritably in pain, whining at him to stop torturing it. He scoffed mildly at it, the back arching pain lingering like a bad rumor.

Oh, Ra, he sighed to himself, was this the right decision?

A door from somewhere opened, Atemu for a brief moment not registering this disruption of silence. Steps graciously entered, a conceited, over confident face looking at him, blue eyes filled with so much pride, it was almost hurtful to meet his gaze. Seto frowned at him, the Pharaoh staring at nothing and at the same time, he was looking through everything. Seto was used to it, the momentary space outs that seemed to leap at the Egyptian with a fair bit of surprise. But still, it annoyed him because he never knew exactly what caused it or what was going on inside his head. Partially he was concerned, but the great pride he wore like a medal always told him that Kaiba Seto simply didn't enjoy not knowing stuff. If the situation was not under his total and complete submission and control, he thought very little of it, regarded it as nothing pleasant.

For the moment, those burning, vibrant, red eyes gleamed like rubies into the distance, tanned skin srunched into a very thoughtful expression. The CEO cleared his throat harshly, patience growing thin. Immediately Atemu spun around, staring somewhat bewilderedly at his significant other. Blue eyes couldn't help but hold that patronizing stare which seemed to have grown a part of the iris through the years. As fire and ice clashed together, an explosion of the most fierce passion and power left them in chaos. Atemu blinked, realizing who had come home. A small smile entered his lips then, and he stood up to greet the man with a forceful, strong and yet so timid kiss. Seto felt the slim fingers lose themselves into his brown hair, delicate cheekbones scraping against his pale emotionless skin. He kissed back, answering with double force just to prove how much power he had, how high upon the mountain of the mighty he really was. The Pharaoh always felt the lack of emtion that used to be so evident, that always used to hide itself within Seto's every move and action. What others regarded as possessive behavior, competitive scorn and just plain simple rudeness, he always knew were in fact so much deeper and important things.

But Atemu couldn't help but wonder if it was even there at all.

''Seto, you're late'' he said, half heartedly glaring at the businessman.

Said man crossed his arms, indignant look on his face. The former Pharaoh stared defiantly back, crossing his own arms in imitation. They stared at each other a good long while, silence the only thing that even dared touch them.

''I was busy.''

''Oh?''

He couldn't help but sound suspicious, worried even. Even though he much rather kept his strong mask on, he just couldn't. It always seemed to slip under those blue eyes, which was odd because Atemu never slipped before. It had taken long time for him to realize, that that burning feeling, that urge to always accept the dragon's challenges and the undeniable respect he held, to understand what it really had turned into. In a way he guessed it was strange, but he couldn't think much about that because those eyes, those deep, cold, distant eyes of the most etching blue he had ever seen, they stripped him apart. Atemu never liked that part, and yet he felt a dull ache inside whenever it wasn't there. Seto swept down, like an eagle from the skies, stealing another kiss as if to distract his lover.

''Did you miss me that much, Temu?''

It was a low trick, one Kaiba knew would strike where the Pharaoh was as most sore. He knew that nickname was precious to the royal man, because Seto almost never used it. Yes, after all, Atemu had penetrated his skin in so many ways and on so many levels and he often found himself despising it as much as it intrigued his senses. He loved how Atemu could turn him on and off and up and down and just invoke such fierce storms inside of him, even though he always tried his hardest to hide them behind that immobile face. But sometimes he thought that those crimson eyes saw through his façade, and he wondered just how much of his charade that Atemu was actually buying. But for the moment the red was warm and soft, like ember on a cold night, shooting stars in the empty void. The Egyptian features almost resembled the feeling of silk, and then Atemu smiled – that smile that was so worthy of respect and yet so powerfully tender – and for a moment Seto remembered just why and what he saw in the man.

It had taken a long time to understand, and yet longer to admit it, that there was more to them, between them than they had first realized. To see the Pharaoh back in life, again, it had been an experience without proper name. But he expected no less from his rival, Atemu always had been hard to get rid of. In a way, Kaiba found it intriguing and he rarely found anything envoking such lust within him. To be honest, for a while he had almost forgotten he could feel like this. He had always fooled himself that there was Mokuba, the only human being whom he could care for and that in the sense of a brother but oh, how stupid of him, how blindly foolish he had been to think that his defences could be kept for so long. To his bitterness, Seto hated the way Atemu still defeated him, so long after they had quit their childish games and gone on to much bigger things.

''Don't be conceited, Seto'' Atemu whispered against his neck, leaning against the slim but so very strong frame. ''But yes, I did miss you.''

Perhaps it hurt him that he never could be sure if the man missed him back. But he would have to take that risk, after all love itself was a game but one wagered with so much bigger things. Not unlike a Shadow Game, and after all, the king was a master of such. And in those arms he felt safe, and he hadn't even noticed before that he had felt the opposite. When had he ever felt the need for shelter? Never, not in the many eyars he had existed. Atemu had always stood up for himself, fought and battled for the sake of his own independence, and still there had been a hidden, sneaky part inside that indeed, had not been this confident. Perhaps, he just as any other person, longed for something other than solitude. To be fair, he had been surrounded by solitude far longer than anyone. Three thousand years ought to make him feel bitter towards loneliness, although he was a bit disappointed because it had brought him some pride in thinking he had gotten used to it. And there, under the hands of one CEO, those ideas crumbled like antiquities, scarred by time until they crumbled to dust under the merest breath.

He never was sure of who had won their game and whether or not they were still playing it. But there was something sincere to it all, he knew that. After all, if there had not been any love they wouldn't have been standing there in the first place. But Atemu felt colder, like those blue eyes grew more distant as time went by. And that alone angered him because time had stolen so much from him already, he didn't want it to steal the only real thing in this world that actually belonged to him. His memories, his life, his friends, family, identity, everything he had known, had been ripped away from him and yes, Atemu knew there had been good reason to it, but just because there were good intents behind something didn't make it less painful to remember.

''There is some food left'' he said, fingers stroking that shirt covered back.

Seto drew in a deep breath, smelling the scent of that wild tri-colored hair, hungrily.

''I was thinking we could skip right to dessert.''

''Oh? What did you have in mind?''

A sly smirk graced Seto's face as he nodded towards the bedroom. Atemu cast a glance towards the room's door, before shaking his head with a small smile. Before the Pharaoh could protest, Seto had plucked him into his arms and without any complaints, proceeded into the dark. The shadows of the room which swallowed them were so much like the sealing of the Puzzle and yet not. There was darkness and emptiness and maybe even slight cold, but it was lit by their fiery passion and softened by wanting, needing, demanding touches and kisses that ravaged pleading skin. Atemu let the dark and his lover engulf him, but this time, as so many other times that he had come to savor, the monarch was not left on his own.

Or at least, that was what he was hoping for.

X

The steady chest of Seto rose slowly but powerfully, as if he was controlling even his lungs when he was asleep. The businessman was a boss through blood and bone, and not even the world around him went free from this behavior. Atemu pondered this as he lay there on the bed, skin curling by the cold he was feeling even though there lay a body beside him under a fancy, overly expensive quilt. The other's breathing and his own heartbeat was the only thing that could be heard through the room and for the moment the Pharaoh was feeling very lonely. He had hoped that when the two of them broke apart from their passionate, wild and loud sex – he always did feel sorry for the neighbors – Kaiba would at least had the decency to hold him in his arms and send him to a peaceful sleep next to his lover.

But no, no, no, no, of course not. The mighty Kaiba Seto couldn't even have the decency to even give him a small goodnight peck. Kaiba Seto just moved away from Atemu's exhausted, sweat covered form, sliding on a pair of boxers before turning to his side of the bed which only seemed to grow more distant by each night. Quickly falling asleep, only lack of emotion visible on his face, Seto left Atemu to the darkness of his own mind. As crimson eyes stared absentmindedly into the shadows, his anger purred in its cage. What happened to them? What happened to the long nights of simply holding each other, or early mornings when one would wake the other with a fierceful kiss? Their little games of who could kiss with the most power, or who could get the other to tick or how many ways could Atemu learn to get Kaiba to catch his eye in one day? What happened to blue meeting crimson in a fiery storm and not just a smoldering little spark like it was now?

The former monarch growled, slowly getting out of bed so he could get out of the room, the house, perhaps even his own mind for a while. He could not stay there any longer, it was too much for him to take in one go. Memories of the younger time of their relationship were banging at his head, roaring at him to let them inside so they could have a nice little chat. Atemu growled and growled and glared at them, hating how worked up he even got over this in the first place. Just because the two of them didn't go out anymore, or listen to the silence together, eat brunch on Sundays or play subconsciously with the other's hair it didn't mean they were growing apart. Just because Atemu had stopped trying to tell him 'I love you' because he knew he would get only silence and a smirk in return, it didn't mean their relationship was over and no, the Pharaoh was not being a girly fool for getting angry. He was overreacting over nothing – nothing – it was as simple as that.

In a few quick moments the crimson eyed man had grabbed his clothes and a coat and in another moment, he was out of there. Leaving a sleeping CEO, curious guard dogs and empty promises behind he quickened his steps, urged them forward and upward and down every crooked little street that came in his way. The darkness seemed to follow him this time too, wherever he went it lurked behind the corners, staring wondedring at him, waiting, contemplating. When he had rid himself of the sealing into the puzzle, he would have thought he would never have to see such shadows, endure such hollow solitude or lose himself in winding dangerous mazes like that ever again. But apparently, he had been terribly mistaken. Perhaps, if the maze that was his heart never disappeared then why would everything else? A few regained memories and fulfilled prohpecies didn't mean all the pieces would fall into place.

Was this what Osiris had meant? He remembered it clearly, like it had only been yesterday, and yet somewhat blurry like he had dreamt it all. But he hadn't, he had stood there in Duat, in front of the God himself, nothing but bloodthirsty determination in his red eyes as the God thought things over. The deity had at long last, agreed to give the ex Pharaoh new life. But it had not been without the warning words.

'Think this over carefully. Once the deceased gain life anew it is never a pleasant experience. You are not supposed to be there.'

He was not supposed to be here. Why on earth was he still here? What did he ever think he had left to come back to? Yugi had his life going on for himself, Anzu had her dancing and Jonouchi one never really knew what he was up to. Honda and Otogi was as good a guess to him as the whereabouts of his library card, which in other words were none. Sure, Atemu saw them, whenever there was an opportunity they met to talk about the good old times and what was going on in the present. Mostly the present, since the Pharaoh felt he had dwelled too much on the past already. But in a way, he didn't think he had really made any progress. It was as if he was neither moving forward nor backwards, he was simply standing still on the wrong place in the wrong time.

Stopping, he looked down at his hand, flexing and moving it examining under the light of a lonely old lamp post. The illumination fell off the tanned skin like water, every movement caught by the watchful eyes of the pharaoh. Was this really his own body? Had he come this far and done this much just to get this? What was he supposed to do? Would his body even stay in his property for the rest of this life? Or was there something going on that he didn't know of? Was Osiris trying to tell him something that failed to gain his attention? This couldn't be over, nothing in life was ever that easy, especially not his life. Sighing, Atemu shoved the hand into his pocket and continued walking, no special way to go in the night but thinking that it didn't matter that much.

He gazed up at the stars, sighing. Of all the times the former Pharaoh had ever felt utterly lost, they were nothing compared to what he was feeling at the moment. Shaking his head, he decided it was futile. Perhaps what he needed was not really answers, but distractions of sorts. Perhaps Seto would come around, he might just be having a bad day – or, more like a bad couple of months. Whatever it was, they would solve it, just like they always did. The King of Games never intended to lose, and it was no different in the game of life.

He would just have to try harder this time.