Yugioh Rare Pair Week 2k24 (Belated) Day Six: Historical AU
FINALLY finished my last entry in this year's Rare Pair Week! Several days late but c'est la vie. Anyway here's 5k words of Saya/Lulu because I LIKE THEM!!! Historical AU but the "historical period" is 1998 😊the 90's are a historical period to meeee
fr. a trip to the video rental store, overalls, butterfly clips, Tweety Bird, and a plot critical VHS tape of The Swan Princess (1994)
Pairing: Gladiatorshipping, Past!Alit/Alit's Prince
Wordcount: 6,029
Rating: T
Prompt: Reincarnation
Ao3
(Full fic also below the cut!)
(AKA: The fic that had me feeling like this image the whole time I was writing it:)
Michael dreams, as he so often does, of the faceless gladiator.
(Faceless, in that the gladiator's face is always obscured by his hair, or conveniently placed shadows, or just indistinct in the way dreams are indistinct on details. Either way, Michael has never seen the gladiator's face.)
What does matter is that the content of the dreams is always the same. Michael faces the gladiator in the arena; Michael with a sword and the gladiator with just his fists. They fight, the gladiator always holding his own despite only having his fists, and while the dreams always end before the winner can be revealed, Michael always wakes with a sense of vague longing for someone who doesn't exist.
---
"You're going to be starting a group project today."
All at once the class groans, Michael included. As much as he loves history as a subject and always does his best on his assignments for the class, he can already see several of his lazier classmates not so subtly whispering and pointing at him. No doubt they want to get him in their group so he can do all the legwork.
The teacher claps his hands, hushing the class all at once, and continues. "This time, I'll be choosing the groups. You'll be in groups of two, so keep that in mind."
That grabs Michael's attention, prompting a worried frown as he looks around the quietly muttering class. He'd been planning on trying to team with Yuma, who can be forgetful but is a good friend and doesn't try to force all the work onto him, but if it's assigned teams, then he can only hope to get a good partner to work with.
"Please not someone lazy...please not someone lazy..." Michael softly mutters under his breath as the teacher digs out the list of students, bracing for whatever might come. Yuma would be his preferred option, and he's pretty sure he can work with a lot of the people in Yuma's friend group (except Tokunosuke, the little weirdo), but that still leaves a lot of room for someone useless-
"-Michael? Michael!" Michael abruptly snaps to attention at the sound of his name, ignoring the wince of sympathy from Yuma as he focuses back on what's actually going on.
"Sorry, yes?"
"As I was saying, you'll be working with Alit for this." The teacher frowns at Michael briefly before moving on, leaving him to twist around in his seat to glance at the mentioned classmate. Alit glances back at him, shooting him a thumbs up and a grin, and Michael, for a single moment, can't help but feel a sense of familiarity. He shakes that feeling off just as quickly though, dismissing it as just his mind screwing with him. He barely knows Alit after all, really only recognizes him as one of the Barians and one of Yuma's friends. There's no reason for Michael to think he knows Alit more than that.
Twisting back around to face forward again, Michael settles in to note down the requirements for this project. As little as he knows about Alit, at least he's not Tokunosuke.
---
"Hey, III!"
Michael's packing up his belongings after school lets out for the day when someone abruptly speaks to him. Turning to look, he sees Alit standing nearby, waiting for him to finish packing up.
"Ah, I go by Michael now, not III." Michael says, ignoring another flash of familiarity as he stands and faces Alit.
"Right, right! Sorry!" Alit apologizes, grinning without a hint of awkwardness, before moving on. "I was going to ask where you wanted to meet up for the project."
"Oh!" Michael thinks for a moment. "It can't be my place, we're still living in a hotel until our home is a bit more done. Is your place good?"
(Now that things are going back to normal, Michael's family has been getting the old museum they once used as a hideout renovated into an actual home, bit by bit. It's coming along, but notably still not done.)
"Yeah, my place should be fine. It's big enough we can probably be unbothered." Alit shoots a glance over at Girag, who seems to be talking to his assigned partner, before refocusing on Michael. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah, I've got my stuff together. Let's go."
---
As Michael and Alit approach the Kamishiro mansion where the Barians have been staying, Michael can see that the place has been cleaned up significantly compared to the last time he was here. A lot of the once out of control ivy has been cut back, the grass trimmed, and on stepping inside it becomes apparent that the building has been significantly cleaned from its years of abandonment.
"Wow, you've put a lot of work into cleaning up," Michael says as he looks around. Beside him, Alit huffs, but manages to look a bit pleased at the comment.
"It was a pain convincing Vector to help, let me tell you. I don't know what he even does half the time- here we are!" Alit walks into what Michael figures is the dining room, tossing his bag on the floor before taking a seat at the table. Michael follows suit, picking a random seat and setting his own bag on the table to root through it for his tablet. Nearby, Alit leans forward, visibly perking up at the sight of something in his bag.
"Hey, what's that gauntlet for?" Alit points at the flash of silver metal, and Michael pauses before pulling out the full gauntlet.
"It's part of my D-Pad. The actual pad part connects to the gauntlet when in use." Michael puts on the gauntlet, looking back up to see Alit staring with an unreadable look.
"Alit? What's up?" Alit blinks at the question, then, shaking his head, smiles his cheerful grin.
"Sorry, it's just a distinctive design. Where'd you get it?"
"My brothers use similar designs, we had our pads custom built." Michael takes the gauntlet back off and puts it back in his bag, grabbing his tablet as he was originally intending to. "We should get started on planning for our project. Is there anything you wanted to do?"
"...We can pick any subject, right?" Alit mutters, thinking.
"Yeah? Anything covered in class so far." Michael pulls up the list of intended history topics on his tablet. "I have the list of what the class has already gone over before we joined."
"...Did they cover Ancient Rome?"
Michael scans through the list quickly, checking for Alit's suggestion. "Yeah? Is that what you want to do?"
"Yup! I used to be a gladiator in my past life, so-" Alit starts, only for Michael to gasp and drop the tablet to the table, eyes wide in surprise.
"You were?! What was that like!?" While Michael knows the Barians had past human lives, it's not like he got to go to the Number Ruins that would have recorded those past lives, nor would the Barians themselves have told him anything.
(And perhaps his mind pulls up his recurring gladiator dream, but he brushes that aside as coincidence.)
"Well, I faced all kinds of different opponents for starters! If I had kept my scars from back then, I could show you- I had a sick one right here from that time someone got me with a spear!" Alit gestures at his left arm, and Michael can almost imagine the scar that would have been there.
"That's really neat! You must have been really skilled too, if you survived all those fights!" Alit laughs at Michael's exclamation, clearly amused, before answering.
"I won every battle I was in!" A pause, Alit's expression sliding into something more melancholy, before he continues. "...Well, almost every battle. There was one person I couldn't quite beat."
"One?" Michael cocks his head. "I thought if you lost in a gladiator fight..."
"That was how it worked. But he...he wanted more chances to fight me. No one would have been able to stop him from sparing me anyways, so..." Alit lapses into silence, his normal energy dulled, before he seemingly recovers himself, leaning forward to look at Michael's tablet again.
"Hey, let's see what the internet has to say about this stuff. Maybe we can turn up something interesting, you know?" Alit still sounds a bit melancholy, but Michael has enough sense to not push it, so instead he just moves on and starts searching for info to get started. The research quickly turns into Michael pulling up various increasingly dubious websites and reading aloud just to see how Alit will react, the once-gladiator always reacting in varying degrees of confusion and outrage at any inaccuracies.
"No, the arena at Spartan City was never used for mock sea battles! It wasn't built for that, it wouldn't have contained the water!" Alit huffs, annoyed at the latest wild claim. Michael can't help but snicker, starting on a note about that before Alit suddenly interrupts him, stretching his arms above his head as he does so.
"We've been at this for a while, wanna have a duel break? You brought your pad and everything!" Alit smirks, and Michael is about to protest, but something convinces him to take that break.
(It's probably his competitive streak convincing him to do it, Michael tells himself, even though that doesn't seem quite right. What else could it be?)
"...Alright, let's go!" Michael grabs his D-Pad out of his bag and stands up, following Alit out to the (significantly cleaned up) backyard. There, the two square off, both engaging their D-Pads and staring each down intently as they let their respective Pads auto-shuffle their decks.
"You ready?" Michael asks, blinking slightly as his Gazer tattoo kicks in, tinting his eye from green to dark pink as the AR overlay comes into visibility. Across from him, Alit stares, seemingly distracted by something, before abruptly recovering himself and bracing for the duel as his own eye flashes red.
"I'm more than ready!" A moment longer, both weighing the other up, then, both in unison:
"DUEL!"
---
"Hey, I didn't know you ran XYZ Import!" Alit exclaims after his loss, watching as Michael removes his deck from his Pad. Michael blinks, a cheeky grin crossing his face at the mention of the Spell card.
"I had to start reworking my deck now that I don't have Numbers anymore. Besides, it turns out it's fun to steal other people's monsters from them." Michael pauses for a moment, thinking, then decides to follow up with a very prideful "Ask Mizael about his Tachyon Dragon."
"Wait- What did you do to Mizael's Tachyon Dragon?!" Alit splutters, eyes wide as Michael just barely stifles a snort.
"Me and Chris stole it from him. He made us give it back, but I don't think he liked it when we did that."
"Knowing him? He would have hated that!" Alit breaks down laughing, Michael joining in as his effort to hold back his own laughter fails. For a moment, the two take humour in Mizael's misfortune, then Michael manages to recover enough to talk about what else is on his mind.
"...During the duel, you kept staring at my Pad. What was up with that?" Michael holds up his still gauntleted arm for emphasis, watching as Alit blinks and frowns slightly.
"...I'm not sure. I think it just felt familiar, seeing you wear that gauntlet, but I don't know why." Alit's admittance gets a flinch out of Michael, who suddenly recalls his own familiar feelings, then slowly, eyes wide at the realization that the familiarity is mutual, he starts to form a response.
"You get that feeling too-"
"What is he doing here?" Anything Michael might have said is cut off by Mizael's abrupt appearance, the man staring at Michael in surprise. Michael stares back, awkwardly waving hello as Alit whips around to yell at Mizael.
"I brought him here! And what's this about you getting your Tachyon Dragon taken from you?!" Alit's shout gets a shocked flinch out of Mizael, the Barian fixing a glare at a suddenly very smug looking Michael.
"You dare crow about that?!" Mizael seethes, fueling Michael's pride as he stifles a laugh in response.
"Come on, your reaction was kind of funny!" Michael shouts, watching as Mizael continues to seethe.
"And to think I respected you and your brother!" Mizael storms off, leaving Michael and Alit to glance at each other in confusion before running after Mizael to ask what he meant.
(In all the excitement, the out of place familiarity is completely forgotten.)
---
As work progresses on the group project and the weeks pass, Michael finds his out of place familiarity with Alit only growing. He tries to chalk it up to just getting to know Alit better as they work together, but that doesn't seem quite right, as the jolts of familiarity strike at odd times, such as when him and Girag get into a playful fight during a study break, or when Alit reminisces about what is very clearly his past gladiator crush.
(Michael perhaps wishes Alit maybe wouldn't reminisce about his past crush so much, for some reason.)
At the same time, Michael's gladiator dreams intensify, the dreamed fights becoming more detailed (but still never showing the gladiator's face). A new dream also enters the cycle, one where Michael is arguing with what he assumes is an advisor of some kind over the gladiator fights.
("Sir, if he beats you in one of these fights, then-" The robed man cuts off as Michael raises a hand, frowning at the warning.
"He won't kill me if he wins, if that's your concern." The advisor opens his mouth, but Michael continues on. "If your concern is that it would just look bad if I lost, then tell me. Would you really be able to make me stop fighting in the arena, just to protect my reputation?"
The advisor doesn't answer, and the dream always cuts there, never quite resolved.)
(Michael still doesn't know what to make of this recurring theme.)
---
"Hey, we going back to my place again to work on the project?" Alit leans back against Michael's desk as he packs his stuff, watching as he makes sure everything is secure in his bag.
"Actually, I was thinking we could go back to my place. We got most of the renovations done by now, so we've officially moved in." Confident that his stuff is secure, Michael pauses to send a message to his family letting them know that he's bringing Alit before standing to leave.
"You moved in?! That's great!" Alit delightedly whoops, standing upright and falling in step with Michael as they leave the classroom. The two chatter happily as they head for the school exit, updating each other about their lives and housemates/family members, right up until they reach the exit.
"So then our father came in- ugh!" Michael cuts off as a sharp breeze blasts him in the face the second he steps outside, sending his pink curls blowing around as he recovers himself. Looking up reveals heavy cloud cover, the kind that promises a coming storm, and Michael can't help but groan at the sight.
"Damn it, I forgot there was a storm coming. You want me to ask Chris for a pickup?" Michael's already reaching for his crest bracelet to send a message, only for Alit to grab his arm and tug him along.
"A bit of rain won't hurt us if we get caught in it, let's go!" Alit lets Michael go and runs ahead, leaving Michael to hurriedly catch up with a shout.
---
The two make it to the Arclight residence just as the rain comes, Michael scrambling to open the main doors to let himself and Alit in before they get too wet. Inside, the patter of the rain echoes against the stained glass, a warning that they would have been soaked had they been any slower at making the trip.
"Oof, this place is huge." Alit looks around the high ceilinged entrance hall as he speaks, his eyes landing on the massive statues at the edges. "Your family chose to live here?"
"We have a taste for dramatics." Michael shrugs his shoulders. "Come on, I'll bring you to the sitting room so we can work." He sets off towards the room in question, Alit in tow.
"We should be able to work in here-" Michael steps in, only to come up short at the sight of Thomas with what looks like his entire tournament deck scattered across the coffee table. Behind him, Alit comes to a halt as well, peeking over Michael's shoulder to see what's going on.
"Thomas, I thought you only worked on that in your own room." Thomas looks up at Michael's comment, an eyebrow raising at the sight of him and Alit standing in the doorway.
"Well too bad, I thought I'd work out here today. Go work on your project with your boyfriend elsewhere." Thomas' remark causes Michael to audibly choke, his face going pink from embarrassment as he struggles to salvage the situation.
"I- he's not-"
"Oh? Then why do you complain so much about his gladiator boyfriend? I could've sworn you were jealous..." Thomas stands, smirking as he latches onto Michael's discomfort. Behind Michael, Alit lets out a surprised noise, but before he can say anything Michael blurts out a jumble of words to get out of the situation.
"We'regonnaworkelsewherecomeonAlit!" Michael whips around, staring at the floor to obscure his growing blush as he rushes off towards the dining room. Alit pauses before rushing after him, and for a second, Michael thinks he's escaped his brother's torment, then-
"Make sure you tell Alit all about your gladiator dreams!" Thomas yells after him, cackling as Michael yells vague threats back down the hall towards him.
For several moments, as Michael and Alit reach the dining room and set up camp there, no one speaks, leaving Michael to stew in his embarrassment. That doesn't last long though, as Alit finally (awkwardly) breaks the silence.
"Michael, are you actually jealous of the prince?"
"It's not- wait, he was a prince?!" Michael shrieks, a stab of what he's slowly realizing is in fact jealousy striking inside him again.
"Yeah! That was how he could keep sparing me after our fights- who would be able to make the prince do anything?" Alit's explanation makes sense, but does nothing to ease Michael's envy.
(Maybe, if Michael were calmer, he'd realize there's something familiar about the fact that no one could make the prince do anything, but he's too distracted to realize.)
"Besides, he's dead! He was my first partner, but..." Alit trails off for a moment before continuing on. "...But you don't have to worry about him."
"I don't?" Michael's heart skips a beat as he dares to hope that maybe, just maybe... "Then you actually..."
"Yup!" Alit says, reaching out to hold Michael's hand. "I guess you've just got that kind of charm."
Michael blushes again, but this time for much happier reasons than before. For a second or two, he lets himself think that maybe Thomas' teasing led to something good, but then Alit brings up the other thing Thomas mentioned.
"So, what was your brother saying about gladiator dreams?"
Michael looks away, suddenly awkward. "Ah. I keep having this recurring dream about fighting a gladiator in an arena. It's always pretty much the same, I don't get to see his face or see how it ends, but I always have a sword and he's always fighting with his fists."
Alit freezes, eyes wide, and Michael, fearing that he somehow managed to ruin his budding relationship within moments of starting it, scrambles to smooth things over.
"Well, it doesn't really matter since I have a real gladiator, right? Besides, we should actually get to work." Michael pulls his tablet out of his bag to get started, and for a second Alit looks like he wants to say something, but then shakes his head and focuses in on work.
---
That night, as the rain builds into a full storm, it becomes clear that Alit cannot safely go home. Instead, he and Michael set up for a sleepover in the sitting room, the two building up blanket nests on the floor and talking late into the night as the wind howls outside and beats at the windows.
(Sometimes, Michael catches Alit looking at him funny, but any attempt at prompting him just results in the conversation being redirected, so he just stops trying.)
Eventually though, sleep does come, and with sleep comes a new dream.
Michael is standing in front of a throne, surrounded by advisors and guards. Below, forced to his knees and head bowed so that he still cannot see his face, is the gladiator, limbs chained and another guard standing behind him.
"He's innocent! He could never commit the crime you describe!" Michael springs to the gladiator's defence, ignoring the hostility directed at said gladiator from all the palace staff. "Release him now!"
"Unfortunately, we feel your judgement on this is clouded." The advisor standing next to Michael states, looking at him with a mix of pity and condescension. "It would not be wise to have someone who plotted against you released back onto the streets."
"He wouldn't plot against me!" Michael yells, desperation rising up in him. He has to do something, anything, to get him released!
"If none of you will let him go, then I have no choice but to-" Michael's words come to an abrupt halt, some great force falling over and overwhelming him. He fights against it, fights to finish his sentence and save his lover, but his body won't respond-
-No, it's responding to something else. Michael can only watch in growing terror as he gazes coldly upon the gladiator, helpless to stop himself from issuing his judgement.
"I see, I shouldn't have let him get so close to me. Take him to be executed, then." Michael screams helplessly from within, unable to do anything as the gladiator's head whips up in shock-
-And then his heart freezes as he finally sees his face and realizes that it's Alit.
---
Michael abruptly snaps awake to pitch darkness, tangled in his blankets, and for a moment he panics and thrashes around, thinking he's still in the dream, still being controlled by something, then a hand hits his shoulder.
"Hey, easy Michael! The power just went out!" Alit's voice sounds in the dark, and Michael freezes as he remembers his nightmare of Alit being sent to his execution.
"...I'm fine, Alit." Michael has to force himself to calm down and brush off the nightmare as something Not Real. "I just had a nightmare, and waking up in the dark didn't help."
Alit goes quiet, considering, then slowly shifts over to lean up against Michael. Michael accepts it easily, as rattled as he is, and the two stay like that for a moment, giving Michael the chance to calm down and reorient himself.
"...What happened in your nightmare?" Alit's voice is unusually serious, giving Michael pause, but he shakes off his unease and forces himself to speak.
(It's nothing. It's just him still being rattled by a nightmare, he tells himself.)
"...It was one of those gladiator dreams. The gladiator was being accused of plotting against me, and I tried to defend him, but then something took control of me and made me send him to be executed." Michael pauses, bracing himself. "...Then the gladiator looked up, and... it was you, Alit."
Michael squints through the dark, struggling to see Alit's reaction, but he can't tell much beyond that he's gone very quiet. After a bit, during which Michael can only sit in silence and wait, Alit slowly speaks, his voice coming hesitantly.
"...Michael..." Alit stops, pauses, tries again. "...You dreamed of my actual execution."
"What?! How-" Michael starts, only to be interrupted by Alit.
"Just listen. We've both been feeling really familiar with each other, right? We tried to talk about it at my place, but we got interrupted."
Michael makes an affirmative noise, not sure where this is going. In turn, Alit pauses again, bracing himself, then continues on.
"I think...your dreams about fighting a gladiator are actually memories of your past life as the prince." Alit stops talking, leaving Michael to sit there in stunned silence.
"...This is a joke, right?" Michael waits for Alit to admit it's all a bad joke, but he stays silent. "Alit, I'm not- I'm not the prince!"
"I didn't say that, I know you have your own life!" Alit rushes to explain his logic before Michael can question further. "What I'm saying is that your soul was once his soul, then when he died, it eventually got reincarnated as you."
Michael doesn't know what to say to that. All he can do is coil in on himself so that his knees meet his chest and listen to the wind and rain pounding away outside as he absorbs what can't possibly be- but has to be, it's the only explanation for how he could possibly be dreaming these things and be so familiar with Alit- the truth.
"...Do you think that's why I manifested gladiator armour when I dueled Yuma?" Alit makes a confused noise, so Michael explains the memory of that duel. "When my family was still seeking revenge against Faker, I became convinced that Yuma and Astral were threats to the plan. Because of that and my jealousy of Yuma's family, I demanded he duel me, and partway through the duel I somehow gained an entire gladiator suit of armour. At the time, I thought it was a manifestation of my anger and the extra power I borrowed from my father for the duel, or a sign I couldn't control all that power, but if I'm some sort of reincarnation..." Michael hugs his knees tighter and tunes out Alit's reaction to his story, his mind running through all the little things that make up his life.
(His love of history. His preference for the Chronomaly archetype. (Oh crap, would that make his soul a type of out of place artifact?) His draw towards swordplay and the ease it came to him, despite having no formal training due to the revenge quest and then investigating the Barians. How much of that is truly him, and how much is his soul echoing who he used to be?)
"...You doing okay?" Alit asks, and Michael can only mutter a quiet, shaky 'no' as he holds back tears. Alit seems to think for a moment, taking the chance to cuddle closer to Michael in the meantime, then carefully speaks again.
"Hey. I know how confusing it is to find out you had a whole second life. I know I was taken off guard when my human memories started coming back at Spartan City-" Alit breaks off abruptly, leaving Michael to look in his direction in confusion.
"...Alit?" Michael's prompting jars Alit back into action, the Barian clearly coming up with some idea as he stares at Michael in the darkness.
"...What if we tried going to Spartan City? It might help you learn more about him, and you'll probably enjoy the trip." The suggestion takes Michael off guard, his feelings still a mix of shock and confusion, but...
...But if it'll help, he'll do anything.
"I'll do it. I never got to see any of the Number ruins, and if it means I can figure out what's going on..." The dreams/memories are weighing heavily on Michael, the out of context glimpses of an ancient prince's life only serving to confuse him in his current life. The storm blowing outside seems to echo his confusion, a sharp gust of wind whistling loudly before dying down a bit, and it's all Michael can do to just stay calm.
"That's great!" Alit seems excited by Michael's acceptance, and whoops loudly before he can stop himself. Michael scrambles to shush him, glancing up at the ceiling, but it's too late, as shuffling footsteps can be heard moving around upstairs. The pair freeze, silently glancing at each other as the footsteps approach, then, heralded by the light of a flashlight, Christopher appears in the doorway, blinking in annoyance at Michael and Alit.
"What is going on down here?" Chris asks, clearly having been woken up by Alit's whoop.
"Sorry, the blackout woke us up and we started talking." Alit manages to speak first, covering for the still shaken Michael. "We'll go back to sleep soon."
"...Alright. Good night." Then, Chris' gaze softening slightly as he looks at Michael: "Try not to stay up too much longer talking to your boyfriend."
Michael blushes slightly, muttering something incomprehensible as Chris walks away, and Alit can't help but snicker and elbow him in reaction.
"You look like a fluffy pink tomato, Michael!" Michael elbows him back, roughly, and soon the two are elbowing back and forth, the seriousness of the moment forgotten as they playfully wrestle each other.
---
As it turns out, it was remarkably easy for Michael to convince his family to do a trip to Spartan City on the pretense of a special date trip for him and Alit.
(At the very least, Thomas in particular seems to enjoy teasing Michael about the trip being a date, and as much as he protests, he can't really deny that it kind of is a date?)
And so, several weeks later, Michael and Alit find themselves standing in the ruins of the ancient arena, being jostled by various tourists also trying to get a look at the place.
"...I'm starting to think Chris had the right idea staying back at the hotel. I'm going to end up hot and possibly sunburnt for nothing." Michael mutters, adjusting the brimmed cap covering his hair as he struggles to get a glimpse of the artwork covering the arena walls. Beside him, Alit looks just as annoyed, huffing loudly before abruptly taking Michael's hand.
"Alright, new plan. Why don't we go explore other parts of the city for now? We can come back later when it's less crowded." Alit grins, and suddenly Michael isn't feeling so grumpy about the fruitless trip to the arena.
"Okay. I heard there's supposed to be a bunch of other historical stuff around here that I want to see." Michael smiles back, and together the two begin to maneuver their way through the crowds to leave the arena.
---
Of course, the best time to visit a historical ruin without other tourists running around is at night. Michael quickly gets dressed, glancing at the bedside clock to see it's currently one in the morning before activating his crest bracelet. The familiar portal appears, spiralling open in the air beside him, and Michael lets it take him, willing the other end to open at the arena.
As he rematerializes in the arena and looks around, Michael can't help but feel a sense of deep familiarity with the ruins. Like he's been here before, like he's held a sword and fought here ages ago-
"Ugh..." Michael shakes his head to dispel the memories that aren't his, but they don't quite go away, instead overlaying his own curiosity to create a confusing mix of emotions as he looks around. The confusion only heightens as he explores further, getting harder and harder to stay focused, and just as Michael realizes he shouldn't have come here alone, as he stands in the center of the arena and fights to keep a grip on reality, he flashes back.
---
Michael stands in the arena as it once was, the stands packed with cheering people. In his hand is a sword, finely detailed and inlaid with a green gem in the pommel, and in front of him is Alit, struggling to prop himself up despite his wounds.
The crowd roars louder as he points his sword at the wounded Alit, and Michael knows what they want. They want blood, they want to see their prince secure his victory over the defeated gladiator, but for some reason something in Michael won't let him. Instead, he points his sword back down at the ground and steps back, giving Alit the space to sit up.
(The roar of the crowd turns to confused muttering, but he doesn't care. What can they do to make him finish the man who gave him such a good fight, anyways?)
"Why... why don't you...?" Alit asks, and Michael blinks in surprise before answering.
"Do you want to die?" Alit doesn't answer, so Michael continues. "You gave me a better fight with your fists than anyone who came at me with a weapon in hand. Go patch yourself up and rest, then perhaps we can fight again."
Michael turns to leave, only to be stopped by Alit's voice behind him. Turning back, he's faced by a challenging stare, green eyes meeting his own, and Michael can't help but stare back.
"You're on, Prince. Next time we meet, you'll regret sparing me." Alit says pridefully, undeterred by the crowd screaming for his death and being faced by a prince who just spared him, and Michael immediately smirks back, intrigued by his confidence.
"We'll see."
---
"Hey, Michael! Michael!" Michael snaps back to reality, looking around to find himself in the ruins of an empty moonlit arena, Alit standing beside him and shaking his shoulder frantically.
"...Alit? What are you doing here?" Alit sighs in relief as Michael responds to him, clearly worried about his state.
"I came here because I thought you'd try to sneak here! Good thing too, I found you staring off into space!" Alit looks at Michael with concern, green eyes meeting green, and Michael smiles back to cover for his confusion on what just happened.
"Sorry about that. I think I just flashed back to my past life." It still feels weird saying that, but Michael supposes it's a fact of his life now.
"Oh? What happened?" Alit cocks his head, shuffling the bag on his back, and Michael thinks back to what he saw.
"You and the prince had a fight, and you'd lost. The prince chose to spare you though, saying you gave him a better fight with only your fists than anyone who brought a weapon." Michael recalls easily, the memory coming as easily as one of his own. Beside him, Alit laughs, clearly amused by the memory in question.
"That sounds like him, alright! He was so bored of opponents who didn't give him a good enough fight!" Alit lowers his bag to the ground, stooping down to open it and reveal-
"Alit, is that my D-Pad?" Michael catches a glimpse of the familiar silver gauntlet and green budlike pad, confused on why Alit brought them to the arena.
"Isn't it obvious?" Alit pulls the parts (and Michael's deck too) out of the bag, passing them over to Michael before materializing in his own Pad. "We're gonna duel here, just like our past lives did!"
"Wait, Alit!" Michael yelps, not prepared for this. "I still don't even know why the prince betrayed you like that! I thought you two were in love!"
"Oh, that?" Alit looks melancholic, thinking back to his death sentence and execution. "That was Don Thousand's influence. He spread rumours amongst the palace staff and got me framed up for conspiracy, then when that didn't make the prince turn on me, he resorted to possessing him directly."
"...That's awful." Michael recalls the feeling of something powerful- Don Thousand, clearly- controlling him in his nightmare of Alit's death sentence.
"That's what happened. I don't blame the prince, it wasn't his fault." Alit shakes his head, refixing his glare on Michael as he comes back to focus. "Now, let's duel! Right here and now!"
Michael hesitates, but not for long as the urge to fight kicks in. Quickly assembling his D-Pad, Michael lets his D-Gazer tattoo activate, a grin forming as he steps back to give space for the duel.
"Alright, let's duel!" The two stare each other down for barely a moment, then, in unison:
As baffling and nonsensical as it was, Nail was of that certain age where he was thinking about the opposite sex. With much regret, of course. He had been so focused, so dedicated but now, he was scribbling love-hearts and names in his notebooks.
Reflecting upon his life thus far, Nail had always been so lonely, so isolated, and he did not mind that one bit. He had more than enough with his toys, his hobbies, he didn’t need anyone else except for me, myself, and I. He had turned it into a point of pride. He was a human boy who was a machine who was a human boy. So for that facade to crack and for him to accept friendship into his once lonesome life, it was scary to transition from one identity to the next.
For that to evolve into fascination with girls, oh, Nail was humiliated. It was embarrassing, there was no other way to describe it. He, of all people, was reduced to a loverboy because of one Kirishima Romin.
She was fierce and sassy, driven and determined, full of quirks and could prove to be quite unpredictable.
She was everything that Nail disliked about humanity. The way they malfunctioned and caused dysfunction or mayhem. Romin was hot and cold based on her mood and her mood was based on what she had or hadn’t eaten recently. She got into hijinks all the same as their other friends and was never afraid to spearhead it either. That entropy was discordant like the metal music that she played and Nail disliked it heavily, or so he thought.
After all, Romin was much more than her faults, varied and eclectic as they were.
Romin embodied much of its beauty, too. Nail would concede that much, and perhaps even with a small smile on his face due to his crush. She was a well-decorated musician and for good reason, her understanding of the art was nothing less than prodigal given her age. RoaRomin’s music, for quite some time, had been just noise to Nail, bits and pieces that he could unpick like mathematics but ultimately not to his taste.
Not anymore.
Now he was scrying the lyrics for hidden meanings. He was linking together the themes and motifs to the instrumentals, keenly aware of Romin’s hand in the mix. Whether she was providing ideas, lyrics, or just her guitar work, it had Nail scrambling like a treasure hunter through the boundless interpretations of music. He felt insane as he made the switch from disinterest to utter obsession.
All because he pined, he yearned, he… crushed on Kirishima Romin.
Their interactions were few and far between, often fleeting. Nail was out of school and she still had to play by the bell. But when their paths did bisect, Nail was always amused. A little happier than he might have otherwise been. Seatbastian detected a difference in demeanour but never said anything - thank goodness. Maybe it was because human interaction was good for him, maybe not.
The crew that Romin belonged to was a cantankerous and often bizarre bunch but hey, he was a part of it too and he was both those things as well. It felt good to belong. To have people he cared about. To have new interests opened up to him.
He wouldn’t have thought of that alone.
He would have stared at the walls, at the blank space and knew there was something missing. A puzzle piece that would be required to fill that slot. Unlike with Rush Duels and the Maximum Summon, the glaring obviousness was not apparent to Nail this time.
How should he approach feelings as frantic as young love?
Especially when his gratitude ought to begin at friendship, with Yuga, not just Romin but Luke and Gakuto also. Even Roa. They all became quite the ensemble together. Yuga opened that blank space and now, it appeared, music decorated much the same as vibrations decorated sound and paintings decorated space.
But the question still remained and the answer eluded him.
Should Nail be forward? Should his words be heavy as weights and just as blunt: I like you? Or should he take inspiration from the more sleek poets before him. Mathematics and computer sciences were far different a language to that of conveying feelings and poetry. So, perhaps Nail ought to relay to Romin that the moon was beautiful tonight. Though it was daytime when he was scheduled to see her next so that wouldn’t work.
Not to mention… From his observations… Nail had concluded that Romin was a hard-headed girl. He would have to look into her schooling records more closely to deduce if she knew what a metaphor was or that their usage could be applied outside of music. It genuinely seemed heads or tails for Nail…
What would make for the best song? That weighed on Nail’s mind, too. They were both creatives but their spirits did not appear kindred when it came to their pursuits. Nail could code all sorts of things in honour of Romin, he could recreate her portrait using HTML as his ink and paintbrush, the rich text editor his canvas but what of her? She needed more than him and his words might just become the head-line lyrics of her next album if he wasn’t careful. He would also appreciate if said lyrics were flattering rather than slandering so that added yet another layer to all the considerations that Nail had to be mindful of.
With so much to take into account, at the end of all his thought, it was not a true answer which Nail came to as he pondered each word for clarity to carry his feelings but it was an answer. If he wanted to let Romin know he felt, he ought to approach with caution. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if she did? Either result terrified Nail as he couldn’t predict her outcomes the way he could predict the outcomes of RNG in a Master Duel.
Either way, the day in which they would cross paths came about before Nail could perfect his speech. His resolve was hardened as he sweated in the sun, arriving earlier than anyone else just so he could hazard some one-one-one time with Romin.
She waited in the park, in the shade of the tree but the leftward slant of a sunbeam illuminated her regardless. She looked as rock and roll as ever, with tinsel town hair of magenta and greeted him, turning around and her skirt fluttered around the bulk of her ever present guitar case.
“Hey, what’s up?” Romin asked, she batted her eyelashes at him as she greeted him, her hand thrown up in a casual hello.
Nail could feel his knees knock and his tongue tie. He had never felt this way before. She was just a tween age girl, there was no reason for Nail to feel as though he were staring down the jaws of a tiger and yet, as friendly as Romin was, he felt as though he were in mortal danger as he heeded his previous revelations. He really ought to approach with caution. Enunciate clearly, be on guard, and allowed for whatever happens, to happen.
“Yes. Good.” Nail replied. “If you could spare a moment of your time, however, I have something I want to ask you.” His teeth chattered.
“Yeah, sure, now’s a good time, what do you need?”
Nail took a breath and he let his preparations meet his hormones and together, they took over his mouth in confession.
Hey everyone. Welcome to the last day of this series. Apologies for the late submission. I got busy over the course of last weekend. But I managed to get on day 7 two days ago and this last one today.
So for the last day, I got stuck between wanting it be about a vacation or something else. But I decided to use one of the prompts I didn’t get to use. That’s where games comes in. I used games for this last day because I fitted well enough for the last chapter of this series.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I just wanna say thank you all for being patient and sweet. It was an honor to join this awesome event. I hope to join it again in the future with another rare pair of mine that’s my favorite or perhaps the same one if there’s less than 40 fanfics of them out there after this.
Whether I like it or not, some of you were impacted by my fanfics. It doesn’t matter if it was fans of the ship already or new ones discovering it for the first time. I’m proud to have done this for three reasons:
1) For myself cause I always wanted to get involved doing stuff for the fandom I love.
2) Jaden and Yugi cause they’re undeniable adorable.
3) The Kuribohshippers cause lord knows y’all needed this as much as I did.
Anyways with all that stuff outta the way, now comes the question:
Will I make more Kuribohshipping content in the future?
Yes if time allows it. I love these two a lot even though my otp is spiritshipping. But stuff gets in the way like life so I gotta balance stuff.
Again thanks so much for reading and thanks to people who made Yu-Gi-Oh rare pair ship week exist. If it wasn’t for y’all, I wouldn’t have known how to express my feelings for this ship without feeling ashamed or weird. Hope to write again soon for the next event.
for rarepair challenge (too late man) I think the hard-headed Yuudias with his blind loyalty would save her (she'll say something like "I need us married by Thursday" and he'll agree.... He has no idea what marriage is lol)
gummygunk
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
areudirty
romaincrisis
titsay
