#10trueloves

[merryfortune]

You Don't Need Me Anymore

Written for the 10trueloves Challenge on Dreamwidth

【9】 Life

Title: You Don’t Need Me Anymore

Ship: Emissaryshipping | Playmaker/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 1,532

Rating: T

Warnings: Character Death

Tags: Selfcest, Dreams, Death, Grief/Mourning, Moving On

   “You don’t need me anymore.”

   Yusaku winced as he slept. He knew that voice. It came from deep darkness within his mindscape as he tried to ascertain what kind of dream he was having. He was used to having all kinds of voices in his head, especially as he dreamed. His dreams tended to be awful places, though. Full of nightmares and electricity but not right now.

   In bed, under the covers and against a lumpy but warm mattress, Yusaku felt weightless. How novel. He was used to all kinds of sensations, usually bad like the whip and lash of electricity but this one was admittedly new and almost… awesome with how astral and out of body it felt.

   “But that’s a good thing. I’m proud of you.”

   What sweet nothings and from a familiar source at that. Usually, it was a younger voice though, that of his saviour: Ryoken. But this voice was older, more mature, and from a source that he could only call his own. It was his voice. Kind of.

   Or more particularly, the voice he used as Playmaker.

   Playmaker was designed as an anonymous agent of justice. He used a voice which was strong and defiant, gravelly tones straight out of a comic book. The voice of a man who wanted to be left alone, who spoke with a straight, metallic edge. The kind of voice which caused people to snap out of panic and listen to him as he once more saved the day. He hadn’t meant to be a hero but that’s what he became as he pursued justice with a relentless grit and determination.

   Now that the source of the voice was identified, Yusaku came face to face with his virtual avatar.

   The weightlessness around him, that zero gravity sensation, became more anchored. It was akin to being suspended in the air, right before a Link summon, before the arrows were confirmed and before data material could gather and blow akin to a tornado.

   “You’ve found me.” Playmaker told him. “And now it’s time to say goodbye.”

   Yusaku couldn’t believe his ears. He felt a lump in his throat and it muffled his surprise, the bittersweetness of it. He didn’t understand and Playmaker could tell from the micro-expression of fear that Yusaku poorly kept on lock. If he couldn’t be vulnerable with himself, who could he be?

   And with that in mind, Playmaker’s demeanour continued to be calm in this void. The air was not exactly white but close to it, with pale blue and muted cyan. He glanced around, as though nostalgic for this moment where usually, it was the precipice of excitement, of a victory about to be well won and a new Cyberse card manifested but not right now.

   The mood was far more angst ridden than that.

   Playmaker reached out and he placed his hand, latex clad, on Yusaku’s shoulder. Yusaku noticed he was wearing his school uniform. Odd. He thought he’d been in his pyjamas mere moments ago but that’s just how dreams went but something about this felt real.

   The sensation of the taut, squeaky material over his shoulder, the weight in which Playmaker seemed to physically press down on him as though to ground him. That felt so real to Yusaku as this conversation continued: spoken at rather than a dialogue but they were the same person so it was okay to feel this way. It was no different to the usual internal monologue they shared, full of lecturing and logic. 

   “You don’t need me anymore.” Playmaker told him. “Your fight… Our fight, it's over. You can rest.”

   He was already dreaming. What could be more restful than that? Yusaku wanted to push back on the idea but he knew what Playmaker meant. In actuality, there hadn’t been trouble in the network for months at this point. The dust had settled. He had found Ai and the other Ignis were safe in a new Cyberse World that he had helped to create and one he entrusted to the Knights of Hanoi of all people to safeguard.

   That’s how much things had changed since then.

   Yusaku had filled out and developed more physically because he was well again in the bodily sense. His grades were better than before and he was actually paying attention in school instead of sleeping because he was getting good quality eight hours most nights. He was starting to see a future ahead of him which was entirely meat space: he wanted to keep working with Shoichi and start a business, go to university. Do all that. With his weapons thrown aside, he could finally focus on putting himself back together again in ways he hadn’t ever thought possible. He was even seeing a goddamn therapist again. 

   His only urged to visit the Link VRAINS these days were rote curiosity. Check all the hidey holes were still empty. That no stone had been left untouched and unturned. It wasn’t necessary. It hadn’t been necessary in a long, long time. 

   He never wanted to play Duel Monsters but if he did… He just wanted to play in paper with Takeru or Aoi, occasionally Naoki and the Duel Club which he now belonged to proper, maybe Ryoken or Spectre if they were up to it and feeling friendly. He wasn’t scared anymore but now…

   He did feel scared again.

   A twinge within his heart as he met Playmaker’s gaze. God, fuck, were they always so intense? Yusaku shuddered. The green was so vibrant and his expression so serious. It was intimidating but Playmaker softened that hard edge for Yusaku who managed to squeak out what he was thinking.

   He sounded like a child.

   “But what if I do need you again?” Yusaku asked. “The idea of never seeing you again, of never being you again, it hurts me deeply.”

   “Yusaku.” Playmaker admonished him with such love that it hurt even worse. “You’ll always have me. The lessons I taught you, they will always be here.”

   His hand slipped from Yusaku’s shoulder to his chest, to the right side of his ribcage where his heart would be. It beat. Fast and swift. Sensations that as a collection of zeroes and ones, Playmaker had never felt before and he smiled. Genuinely. He relished it.

   “All I have ever wanted was for you to be safe and secure.” Playmaker said. “You created me and now, you have succeeded me.” His eyes watered uncharacteristically.

   Yusaku nodded. He understood. This was about as happy an ending as either of them could expect, or even want. There had been so many twists and turns, moments where a wrong step could have resulted in their heads on spears or their brains fried and their friends even more worse off than those fates either. 

   Yusaku placed his hand over Playmaker’s. The touch of smooth, clean latex was electric. He held Playmaker’s hand.

   “Thank you, Yusaku.” Playmaker said. “I’m glad I got to say goodbye. Your Link Sense is sharpening every day, who knows what you will be able to do with it next as you. Not me.”

   “I’ll do my best.” Yusaku said.

   He still thought himself a child, mourning the loss and goodbye of a security blanket but he couldn’t help himself. It was all too real. Too close for comfort as he lost another loved one to that terrible light. A golden glow, the emancipation of pixels as they floated upwards and ascended unto deletion. 

   Before he knew it, Yusaku was alone.

   He was awake but refreshed.

   He took a moment to himself to ground himself in reality. He used that moment to notice the stretch and warmth of the sheets around him. Of what the ceiling looked like illuminated with morning sunshine. The sounds that he could hear in the streets, such as people walking, a jackhammer at a construction site, and dogs barking. He even relished the smell of his room, musty like old books and once satisfied that he truly did feel well in the head, Yusaku got up and out of bed.

   He stretched his shoulders and yawned. He pondered his dream and how in the wake of it, he felt good about what had happened. His stomach growled and his mouth watered for the taste of coffee. Breakfast beckoned downstairs but as he plodded downwards, he saw the living room in quite a state of disarray with Roboppy trundling on his wheels in circles and Ai in distress and causing a hullaballoo.

   “Yusaku, Yusaku, bad news: your Playmaker avatar’s gone missing!” Ai screeched in panic.

   Yusaku recoiled. It was way too early in the morning for that level of noise as he watched Ai, in his SOLtiS body, freak out. There was stomping and hands everywhere but Yusaku shook his head.

   “I know.” he stated calmly. He moved his hand to his chest, his fingers curled against the soft, worn fabric of his cotton pyjamas. “I deleted him.”

   “Huh?!” Ai gawked.

   “There are three- no, there is just a single reason why.” Yusaku said. “We didn’t need each other anymore.” And besides, Playmaker was exactly where he needed to be, alive in the flesh within Yusaku’s heart.

[merryfortune]

A Documentary About Two Very Serious People Watching an Unserious Television Show

【6】 Laughter

Title: A Documentary About Two Very Serious People Watching an Unserious Television Show

Ship: Angelmakershipping | Aoi/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 1,799

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Domestic

   “You know I just realised something,” Aoi piped up, “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

   “I laugh?” Yusaku scrunched up his face. He wasn’t sure where this was coming from all of a sudden.

   “Since when?” Aoi complained. She certainly had no evidence of this claim.

   At this rebuttal, Aoi pouted as she cuddled further into Yusaku’s side. Her head was nestled on Yusaku’s shoulder though her sudden exclamation caused him to rankle. He screwed deeper into the lounge to give Aoi some room. He had such an uncomfortable and scrawny frame but she was no better. The plush blanket that they shared as they watched the trash on television helped, however. 

   “I know you laugh but I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever heard it.” Aoi pointed out.

   “What about you?” Yusaku played the obvious defensive card in this weird argument which wasn’t an argument but would become an argument if played wrong. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”

   “I also laugh!” Aoi defended herself but Yusaku had made a good point. Even if she was loath to admit. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had laughed.

   Neither were very humorous people. No funny bones whatsoever to speak of in either of their bodies. There just wasn’t much to point and laugh at in their lives. They had overcome so much, come so far, and now they could relax in silence and serenity. For them, a handshake was better than a kiss and sitting on the lounge, unmoving, was better than bellyaching. They were fine with that. They were serious people in a serious relationship: their affection was awkward and stilted, but only from the outside looking in. They both knew they would never truly fit a normal mould of life and made peace with that but for some reason, Aoi belaboured her point. 

   After all, laughter was the best medicine and they could probably use a little dose of it all things considered.

   “It could do us some good to at least try.” Aoi pouted. “Let’s throw on a random variety show and at least try to find something to laugh at.”

   Yusaku withheld the urge to roll his eyes but Aoi did notice it. The way his lips peeled slightly, the increase of an inhale. He didn’t see much value in it, to him all television was trash television but even so, he obliged Aoi’s wish for them to lighten up for once in their lives. So, he picked up the remote and they channel surfed.

   From one channel to another, from prestige drama to children’s cartoons and everything in between. For them, the television’s presence was merely to create ambient noise beyond their breathing and whatever little chatter they made in between those breaths. But, eventually, he settled on something which was just beginning based on how the opening credits whirred and oh boy.

   This was going to be a doozy.

   The open credits were set to a staccato theme which showed all kinds of whacky and out of context moments. Where there was meant to be a silence in the theme, there were of course non sequiturs from the comedians who opened up on a stage in several seats of varying levels of extravagance. Seven of them in total: five competitors, one headmaster, and one assistant. The headmaster opened the show with a quip and the live studio audience applauded.

   Aoi and Yusaku found the quip to be a little mean but having no investment in anyone on stage (just yet), they settled in and let the show roll on at its own and zany pace. Next thing they knew, they were put through a snap round of introductions but none of them stuck and then the first scene of the show actually began. 

   Oh boy.

   So, the premise of the show was that the comedians had to act out a bunch of different tasks. The better, or worse, they did depending on how much they pleased the judge would score them points. Obviously, the better they were the better the points but sometimes if the comedians found a way to evade the letter of the law just right and if something happened to go spectacularly wrong and made the headmaster laugh, he would be lenient. The assistant also stuck around to give hints, advice, and moral support: mostly, he was moral support the same way a punching bag was with most contestants firing off different quips at him or straight up throwing things at him. 

   In the first fifteen minutes of this television show, Aoi and Yusaku had no idea what they were looking at. Par the course for how Japanese comedy shows were perceived due to their reputation; well earned or otherwise. They also did not know that milk could be used that way. It seemed wasteful to them but the audience at large laughed it all off as the comedians made great messes of themselves. 

   The ad break couldn’t have come sooner, quite frankly, and they were just as entertaining as the rest of the show had been thus far. Which is to say, not very funny or entertaining at all but at this point, there was a point to prove so the remote remained untouched the show kept playing.

   In the second segment of the show was a group challenge. Yippee. The contestants were split into two groups: one duo and one trio. Yes, they were given silly names to define their identities as a unit. No, neither Aoi nor Yusaku found the silly names to be amusing. Together, they took on something which involved a lot of physical comedy, an ability to trust one another, and a whole lot of balloons. 

   “You know…” Yusaku commented. “Someone would have had to play-test these challenges that the contestants go through to make sure they’re safe and doable.”

   “Oh definitely.” Aoi agreed.

   “I can’t help but feel that would have been the more interesting premise for the show. Ordinary people doing out of the ordinary things…” Yusaku said.

   “Yeah, maybe, the comedians are try-harding for points.” Aoi added.

   To that astute observation, Yusaku nodded but they continued to watch the television show though now with the wondering in the back of their minds: how exactly would they go doing any of these things?

   The gap moe had appeal as once more, they were serious people and serious people doing inherently silly things with as little or much dignity as possible might very well be comedy gold but alas. That was not the television show and so they watched as more points were doled out but not a single giggle was had. Not even so much as a snicker or an unusual exhale to denote some kind of amusement. So far, the reaction was very little.

   By now the show had gone on for about half an hour, not including ad breaks, and as such, the contestants were in the end game. Their scores were tightly clustered and more quips were spouted off as up next was the live studio challenge. The stage behind where all the comedians sat revealed itself to have quite the arena hidden behind its unsuspected, scarlet curtains of velvet. 

   For this challenge, the contestants were blind folded and armed with leaf blowers. The producers had gone ahead and invented a brand new game for these people to play and it was intense. There were highs, there were lows. The audience cooed and harrowed at every twist and turn as the comedians bumbled around on the stage trying to play something which would resemble soccer if soccer were played by aliens. 

   Now despite the intensity of the competition, Aoi and Yusaku felt very little towards it all. The rivalry was in all farce and neither of them had picked a favourite. Thus, there was very little fanfare from them whilst a winner of the episode was crowned in a ceremony of trumpets and trinkets. The audience clapped and cheered, the fellow contestants were good sports about it and showed camaraderie towards the episode’s champion and that was that.

   The show was over and, finally, the scene went to black as the curtains swished and enclosed the arena once more. The credits rolled and Yusaku’s eyebrows furrowed inwards.

   “Well, that was forty five minutes of our lives we are never going to get back.” he remarked.

   “And through it all… We went an entire forty five minutes… Without laughing…” Aoi sounded shellshocked.

   She glanced at Yusaku and Yusaku shrugged.

   “For comedians, they’re not really good at their jobs.” Yusaku quipped.

   A twitch on Aoi’s lips ensued, “I suppose.”

   “We have far more mature senses of humour.” Yusaku continued.

   “Oh, absolutely.” Aoi tried to lie blatantly but her body language betrayed her.

   Her nose scrunched. Her lips twitched. She felt it. A flicker through her sinuses and a jitter inside of her lungs. She met Yusaku’s eyes and he felt the same.

   They laughed. Together. As one. And quite raucously at that, a feedback loop, really. One laughed, the other laughed, then the other laughed at the fact the other was laughing and so on and so forth. Until neither of them actually knew what they were laughing about.

   “Okay, okay, it was actually kind of funny when that lady slipped on the milk stains she had created.” Aoi said. “Like? What was she thinking?!”

   “And it was so gross when it came out of that man’s eyes.” Yusaku said.

   “Oh, oh, and during the balloon challenge, the way that man squeaked was so funny. He was so huge and bulky but he sounded like a squirrel because the balloon popped, it wasn’t even that scary!” Aoi jeered.

   “The live challenge was kind of funny, too, like when they-” Yusaku couldn’t even finish his sentence, he had to wipe a tear out of eye and hold onto his belly because it hurt from laughing. 

   The mirth of Yusaku’s face was like nothing Aoi had ever seen before. She could hardly believe her eyes as her laughter faded but the twinkle in her eyes, head over heels in love with Yusaku, only got brighter. This was a very different side to him and even her and both of them, actually, but she liked it. She really liked it. Their laughter was awkward and gawky and unrestrained. Loud, too, if not obvious by now as they got years of pent up humour out in one go. The atmosphere lightened and their voices went hoarse as they finally stopped laughing.

  After this moment of repose, of letting the laughter die down, Yusaku posed a shy suggestion:  “Do you want to watch something else? Maybe another comedy?”

   “I’d really like that.” Aoi smiled with a hint of a chuckle to her lips.

[merryfortune]

A Pinkie Ring for a Pinkie Promise

【7】 Forgiveness

Prompt: Forgiveness

Title:  A Pinkie Ring for a Pinkie Promise

Ship: Celebrityshipping | Go

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 2,161

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Tags: Post-Canon, Reunion, Gift Giving, Reconciliation, Romantic Gestures, Getting Together, Confessions, Child Lore

   “Hey, long time, no see.”

   Go prickled. He knew that voice but he didn’t know from where. It was familiar and yet completely strange to him. He did another set of his weightlifting: one hand, just a warm-up. 

   “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” Go asked, suspicious and too busy with himself to pay too much mind to an oddity such as the one afoot.

   He was a famous man. He’d had his ups and downs in the public eye. It was only natural that he would attract weirdos. He kept his details top secret: or as much as he could. He didn’t need fans hovering like flies around where he lived or trained, like out here. His own personal gym fashioned out of a hand-me-down warehouse. Surrounded by identical buildings with only numbers and rust to differentiate them, where the sea salt blew in. Out by the docks were basically the boonies for this part of Den City. 

   “I have something. For you, from someone important.” the Stranger continued.

   That piqued Go’s interest but he couldn’t recall ordering anything online. This’d be the world’s rude delivery man if that was the case anyway. Maybe a connection through his handler? At the very least, his eyebrow drew up as his hand went down. His grip was getting better by the day, back towards his peak.

   “From who?” Go asked.

   “Oh, you know. No one special. Just Playmaker.”

   Go couldn’t have whipped around quicker than if he tried. His weight clattered and clanged on the collection by his side as he hastily put it back in place. He reefed himself from the corner of the boxing ring that he’d made his seat. Sweat flew off him as he turned around and he saw.

   A guy.

   A regular old guy in a shabby hoodie and jeans. His face was obscured by his clothing. His demeanour was small, his frame skinny. He looked like he could do with putting away some hot dogs or something else fatty and full of protein. 

   “And how do you know Playmaker?” Go asked.

   “I know him because I am him.” He pulled back his hoodie and Go saw it, if he squinted, a likeness. Sharp chin, sharper green eyes, coiffed, multi-coloured hair. Not quite the same but close enough. “Fujiki Yusaku. It’s good to make your acquaintance in the flesh.”

   This guy, Yusaku, took his hand out of the pocket of his jumper and extended it forth. He walked towards Go, too, into the dim of his gym with its industrial but not very heavy duty lighting. Go was wary but he had an extensively developed opinion of Playmaker so he trusted that he would discern the truth of if this guy was who he said he was.

   Now Go and Playmaker had had a tumultuous relationship in the not so distant past. Jealousy. Vengeance. Spite. Go put Playmaker through a needless wringer because he couldn’t cope with the idea of sharing a spotlight with someone who didn’t even want it. He’d grown up so rough, on the streets and in and out of that orphanage, he’d had to work so hard, day and night, to even get the time of day. Let alone a stage to duel on or a ring to box on. Then all of a sudden, someone achieves the success that he’d dreamt of since he was child… Completely by accident?

   It pissed Go off.

   It shouldn’t have but it did. 

   To that end, Go went to some dark places. Mentally and physically. But now he was on the up and up. His body was going strong again after all he had done to it with the Neuron Link and such. He wasn’t sure his image would ever be the same but as he once more donned the costume of the heel beloved by children, Go felt that he could be back and bigger than ever.

   He wasn’t just looking to fill his old shoes but Playmaker’s as well. They had a kinship. Go knew when someone was having fun and he knew that Playmaker had fun in that duel. Hence why he dogged his man in the sky’s instruction to divert and get out. It was for that reason, and many more as Go heard how Playmaker’s voice went raw as he told him to cut it out, to abandon his mission of hunting the Ignis for SOL Tech during those duels that he meant well. That he cared for Go’s wellbeing as an ally.

   That kind of person who was shielded but caring underneath made Go think that Playmaker, who was MIA by the way, would pull a stunt like this. Sure, turning up out of the blue with no warning had his fingerprints all over it but in meat space? Surely not. He didn’t encourage fan behaviour of any sort, positive or negative, so this probably wasn’t a random pulling a prank either. Honestly, in all honesty, Go was willing to believe that this was Playmaker and when they shook on it. That belief turned to fact.

   The connection between them was like lighting. The same sensation Go got during their duel. So, he gripped Yusaku’s hand hard and met his eyes with a grin: satisfied that Playmaker’s IRL identity had been verified.

   At such a gesture, as he shook back, Yusaku didn’t smile but something like fondness tugged on his lips, “It’s good to see you again, old friend.” He let go first.

   “Dunno if I’d go that far.” Go replied dryly.

   “I’d like to.” Yusaku admitted. He slipped his hand back into the hoodie’s joey pouch.

   If Go had to guess, given that he didn’t have a package or similar on his person, that was probably where he was keeping this mystery gift. Another thing Go thought about Playmaker was that if he had something for him, it’d be a material object. It wouldn’t just be warm fuzzies and feelings. 

   “Because I’ve been thinking.” Yusaku continued since Go didn’t put a word in after his initial admittance. “You were the first person to make me enjoy dueling for the first time in a long time. I wanted to honour that. I took some time to myself, to think deeply, to pursue what I wanted.”

   Go guffawed. If this was Yusaku’s explanation as to why Playmaker had been missing in action, it wasn’t a very good one. The buzz of realisation that he was gone with no known reason caused a media frenzy. Speculation and theories kept two bit reporter’s lights on for weeks. Go didn’t put any stock in what he heard, it was all greedy gobbledygook as far as he was concerned. He didn’t have any insider knowledge, since he didn’t know the real life identities of Playmaker’s allies but still.

   He knew better than anyone that cutting everyone off and putting oneself into an isolation chamber to overthink wasn’t exactly the healthiest thing but he’d let Yusaku air his thoughts. After all, maybe he had actually done something productive with that time but Go had his doubts. His face reflected as much as he listened to Yusaku’s story with a stern, unmoving expression.

   A lot of it put into context what Go had understood from briefings and meetings at SOL Tech. It was all on a need to know basis and for a bounty hunter like him and a figurehead like Queen, most of it was not given to Go. So, what he heard made his stomach turn. He lost any resemblance of neutral composure after that. It was all disgust and anger. Including some turned towards himself but Yusaku spoke on, unaffected.

   The Lost Incident… Scary didn’t begin to cover it. It was horrifying, it was sick and evil.

   But Yusaku had lived to tell the tale, and everything else, too, how he scratched and clawed his way to doing the unbelievable: he brought a dead Ignis back to life. 

   Go couldn’t believe it but he could believe it. Playmaker was one determined son of a gun, a shining hero who hated being called a hero and preferred the shadows to the spotlight, who pulled tricks not out of a hat but a Data Storm but Yusaku… Yusaku seemed like a different character entirely. 

   “And what I wanted was… To connect my bonds. So here. Proof of that.” Yusaku said.

   He took his other hand out of his hoodie’s pouch but whatever he had, it was enclosed in his fist. Go put his hand out, underneath Yusaku’s and Yusaku nodded. He uncurled his fingers from his palm and a small, plastic object dropped into Go’s hand.

   “Here you go.” Yusaku said. “I little birdie told me you like handmade things so I 3D printed this for you.”

   Yusaku glanced at the far wall as he spoke. That didn’t miss Go’s notice. He also implicitly knew what had caught Yusaku’s attention all of a sudden: the handmade championship belt. It was shaped like a lion and made from paper mache. The children of the orphanage that he raised money for were the ones who made it. With some help from their teachers, too, of course.

   “3D printed, huh?” Go said. He pulled his hand back and manoeuvred the object to his fingers. “A bit fancy to call it handmade, don’t you think?”

   Yusaku shrugged.

   Go inspected the Tinkercad project and his brows upturned in playful surprise, “Oi, oi, what’s this?”

   “A championship ring.” Yusaku said. “I’m not well versed with sports prizes but I did some looking online. It seems that these aren’t uncommon. I estimated your ring size based on your Link VRAINS avatar.”

   “A bit homoerotic to gift a man a ring, don’t you think?” Go mused. He, himself, wasn’t even sure what the intention of that statement was. A complaint? Admiration? It mattered not. “It doesn’t even look like it’ll fit me. Some keyboard bro you are.”

   Yusaku clarified with a neutral voice, “Because it's not meant to go on that finger. It's a pinkie ring. Therefore, it should fit your pinkie but if not, I’m sure you can find somewhere special to keep it. After all, it can’t be resized as its costume jewellery.” Yusaku explained.

   Go cracked a smile. The ring was emblazoned with a lion motif as well: carved into the plastic. It was solid blue in colour but had been handpainted here and there to add definition: black ink for eyes, yellow for the fur. If he squinted, it kind of reminded him of one of his Gouki cards. So, all in all, Go appreciated the effort, he liked in particular how rough around the edges it was. This was, genuinely, something someone with little expertise would create and the way the plastic was flecked implied that’s where it had been broken free from the cocoon it was printed from.

   The least he could do was try it on. Yusaku watched silently, his green eyes enormous, for the moment of truth.

   Go turned his hand inwards. He extended his pinkie finger and it slid on like magic.

   “Well done.” Go complimented him.

   “Thank you.” Yusaku said. “I thought it would suit you. Or, perhaps hoped is more accurate. I thought a pinkie ring would complement my intentions with you.”

   He lifted his hand. His pinkie finger extended.

   “I don’t remember much of my childhood because of the Incident, but I know this: when children mean something, they pinkie promise on it.” Yusaku said. “I know you cherish the innocence of childhood, that you would do anything to protect the innocence of your charges at the orphanage. They look up to you. As do many others… Including me. I want a pinkie promise with you.”

   “And what exactly would we be making a pinkie promise for?” Go said.

   “That we will keep having fun duels together.” Yusaku said. “I want to enjoy our bond: you are the first man, no, first person, to ever make me feel this way so promise me. We’ll put the past behind us and enjoy the future.”

   Go smirked. Talk about putting the cart before the horse. The ring should come after the confession but so be it. Yusaku knew how to play on his heartstrings. But he felt the same way. He wanted the past behind him just as badly, for different reasons but just as badly nevertheless.

   Go nodded. He couldn’t leave Yusaku hanging a moment longer with those words out there, in his head and his heart. So, he raised his hand and he extended forth his pinkie finger, adorned with the ring Yusaku had gifted him, and their fingers wrapped around one another. 

   “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Go said. 

   “Stick a needle in my eye.” Yusaku unsurely finished the verse. 

   But surely, it would never come to that. They were both youth of their word. This was their bond: a boxing ring, and now a pinkie ring, too.