Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Astral,

So much has happened since we last parted ways. Can you believe it's been five years since the conflict between Astral World and Barian World ended? Life seemed to return to normal swiftly after your departure. I've kept my promise—not a tear shed... well, mostly. But don't go getting all sentimental on me! It's just that sometimes, I can't help but pause. The world keeps spinning as if our struggles never occurred—but I know they did, because I remember every moment. I won't forget you, Astral, or what you've done for me and my friends. Our world is safe now, thanks to you. I hope your world is too. I look forward to the day we can meet again. Until then, I'll keep trying to high-five the sky.

I wish I could tell you I've become a world-class Duelist, but real life has its own plans. I think I'm finally beginning to understand what my sister, Kari, dealt with daily. Home life hasn't changed much—Grandma, Mom, Dad, Akari, and Lillybot are all doing well. Some of our friends visit now and then, but it's not as often as I'd like, or as it used to be. But don't worry about me—it's nothing I can't handle! In fact, the lack of distractions helped me ace my entrance exams. You're looking at the next World-Class Adventuring Archaeologist! I'm really feeling the flow, following in my dad's footsteps. Hopefully, my adventures will take me back to Astral World someday. That is, if I survive the semester.

But enough about me. I want to hear about you. Write me back soon–

"Heads up, Yuma!!"

Bronk's sharp voice jolted Yuma from his thoughts as he sat on the university bleachers. His once spiky hair was now much longer and more subdued, with red streaks framing his face. As he looked up, trying to locate the source of the warning, he was struck by a soccer ball, sending him tumbling off the bleachers to the alarm of nearby students. His papers alongside the letter flying into the air as a loud thud sounded. Bronk, now more athletically built, cursing under his breath before turning to his teammates. "Let's take a timeout," he said before striding across the vibrant scene of the soccer pitch.

The well-maintained grass, a rich shade of green that stretched out in all directions, bordered by crisp white lines marking the boundaries. The goalposts standing at either end, their nets swaying gently in the breeze. Players who had once been darting across the field in their swift, fluid and purposeful movements now halted in place to access the situation from afar. The atmosphere once filled with energy and anticipation fell hush after the unexpected collision that sent Yuma tumbling. The team all in agreement to hold off as Bronk hurried over to Yuma's fallen form.

Though still tall, Bronk had become more toned, fitting his full-ride sports scholarship. His spiky black hair, accented by a green streak, and dark eyes showing concern as he checked on his friend. "I tolds you, maybe doing homework on the pitch wasn't such a great call, Yuma," Bronk said, rubbing the back of his head.

"I wasn't doing homework!" Yuma exclaimed, rising unsteadily to his feet, his head pounding.

A shaky hand pressed to his aching head as he muttered, "I was writing a letter to Astral."

Bronk raised an eyebrow. "You was? Well, now I feel terrible for interrupting that."

"It's no problem, pal... but I..." Yuma began, feeling himself sway as dizziness took hold. "Oh no..."

"Geez, Yuma... you took that hit hard. I better get you to the campus nurse's office," Bronk said, gathering Yuma's papers and helping him up. "Hang in there, Yuma!" He added, trying to encourage Yuma to remain strong for the time being as the pair set off.

"Thanks," Yuma replied, leaning on his friend for support as they made their way to the nurse's office.

The journey was a blur, but Yuma was grateful when he finally sank into one of the comfy chairs and was handed an ice pack. The contrast of cold providing some form of relief finally as Bronk hovered nearby, concern etched on his face. "You okay, Yuma?"

Before Yuma could respond, the door opened, and two familiar figures entered. "So it was you, Bronk! We were just on our way out to the pitch to watch your practice," Rio's voice rang out.

Her once medium-length blue hair was now longer, reminiscent of her Barian identity, Marin. Yet, Rio was unmistakably herself. She wore a tailored, off-shoulder white blouse with delicate lace trim, paired with a high-waisted, pleated skirt in soft pastel hues, and she carried a designer handbag that complemented her ensemble. Her fashion sense was as sharp as ever, exuding elegance and grace.

Kotori stood beside her, dressed in her cheerleading attire, hairstyle still reminiscent of their youth–but hesitated at the doorway, her gaze flickering toward Yuma before she quickly lowered her orange eyes. Her posture was slightly stiff, and she lingered near the entrance, as if unsure whether to enter the room fully. The subtle tension between them was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the past that neither was ready to confront.

Bronk taking note of the shift quickly took to addressing the pair. "All catch up with you both, just give me a sec."

The girls nodded and stepped back outside the room sliding the door shut behind them, allowing Bronk to focus on Yuma. The athlete choosing to kneel beside his friend as his concerns deepened. "Hey, Yuma...you really gonna be okay if I leave you on your own?" He said slowly before adding. “You knows, I could stick around ifs you want to talk about it. I mean, what really happened between you two?”

Yuma stiffened at the subject of Kotori. The pair had been through a lot together in their youth, Tori serving as a strong branch of support through much of his adventures with Astral and the others. And that support had continued as the two had mutually decided to pursue a relationship after the resolution between Astral World and Barian World, yet things could never be that simple. The resulting aftermath of fallout from their breakup leaving behind a lingering tension, and one he wasn't ready to confront. "I'm fine! Nothing's wrong here at all! In fact, I feel better than before—so you go on and get out there and practice for your match!" Yuma exclaimed, trying to mask the pain in his head and the turmoil in his heart.

Bronk eyed him skeptically. "You know, Yuma, you're a terrible liar—"

Before he could continue, the door opened again, and the university nurse emerged, escorting a familiar figure—Ray Shadows, or perhaps better known as Vector. Seizing the opportunity, Yuma pushed himself up and staggered toward his friend. "Ray, what are you doing here? Are you not feeling well?"

Ray looked surprised but smiled. "Oh? Hey, Yuma! Well... something like that," he responded rubbing the back of his head. “...But what about you? Why are you here?”

“One of Bronk’s rogue balls hit me pretty good–”

"On that note! I'd better get back to practice! Later, Yuma!" Bronk interjected, backing out of the office.

"Hey! Wait a minute! Weren't you the one worried about leaving me all on my own!?" Yuma called after him.

"Was I?... I mean, yeah—but I think Ray's got this one!"

"I do?"

Ray raised an eyebrow as Bronk made a hasty exit. "Yeah, so... uh... you two take care of each other! Later!"

“Yuma…what in the world was that about?” Ray inquired, confusion spreading across his face.

“Beats me,” Yuma responded with a shrug, a moment of weakness surging suddenly as he felt the dizziness set in as his body gave out.

Ray’s purple eyes widened in horror and shock as he quickly responded and steadied Yuma in place. Yuma in turn directing his red eyes towards Ray as he softly spoke. "Thanks... pal... it's nice to be able to count on the real you again..."

Ray paused, then smiled warmly. "Let's get you sorted out, Yuma, then I'll personally make sure you get home."

"Alright, but as long as we don't go the Ray Way," Yuma teased.

The two shared a brief laugh before Yuma winced, the pain in his head flaring up again and forcing Ray's expression to shift to that of concern as he hurried Yuma along to receive medical attention.

Chapter Text

By the time Yuma and Ray finally left the nurse’s office, evening had settled over the campus. The diagnosis had concluded a minor concussion with the treatment recommendation consisting of hydration, rest, and close monitoring for any lingering symptoms. The nurse even offered acetaminophen for the persistent pain, though she firmly insisted they arrange a ride home instead of walking. Ray easily taking the hint and calling to arrange for Akari to pick them. Her work-from-home schedule made her the perfect candidate for the task anyways and despite her likely irritation—Yuma's fault or not—it was reassuring to know she'd be on her way. Ray choosing to lighten the mood by joking, "Look on the bright side, Yuma. Akari's ride means we can’t possibly end up taking the 'Ray route' home." To which they shared a quiet chuckle, Akari pulling up in front of the campus not too much longer after.

“Honestly, Yuma… What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?” Akari huffed, stepping out of the car.

Yuma could have explained, but it was clear his sister wanted to ensure he was in one piece as she began to assess his condition for herself. “I’m fine, Kari! I’ve survived worse than a rogue ball!” Yuma protested, a hint of embarrassment coloring his face as his sister fussed over him.

“I suppose that’s true…” Akari conceded reluctantly, crossing her arms. “...But you need to be more careful.”

Her words were firm as she turned on her heels, her maroon ponytail bouncing with each step as she returned to the driver's seat. Both Yuma and Ray exchanging a look before joining her in the car themselves and buckling in. “Thanks for picking us up, Akari,” Ray said politely.

“Thanks for watching over my idiot brother,” Akari replied from the front, throwing a typical sibling jab despite her underlying concern. “Oh, and Yuma, you're lucky. Grandma saved some leftovers from dinner for you and your friend.” She added, withholding the fact that it was also her idea, though she knew that would be apparent to her brother.

“Awesome, I could definitely go for some duel fuel! And I certainly owe that much to Ray as well,” Yuma responded, his stomach growling in agreement.

“Thanks, Yuma. I certainly appreciate the gesture,” Ray replied with a smile, having grown fond of the Tsukumo family's cooking over the past five years.

“Will you need a ride home afterwards?” Akari asked, her purple eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror.

“That would be—” Ray began, only for Yuma to cut in.

“You don’t have to rush off. You're more than welcome to stay the night.”

“If I’m not inconveniencing—”

“Not at all,” Akari spoke up. “It’s been a while since Yuma’s had anyone over, and I think it would do him some good. It might even help speed up his recovery,” she remarked, her concern for Yuma's well-being evident.

Yuma understood his sister's concern, but he couldn't bring himself to admit the loneliness creeping into his life. He clung to his usual optimism, pushing aside the quiet ache that had settled in his chest. After all, his friends—especially Ray—had their own lives to live. He didn't want to burden them with his own struggles. Yet, as he lay awake at night, the echoes of laughter and carefree days with his childhood friends seemed like distant memories. He missed the camaraderie, the shared adventures, the simple joy of being together without the weight of responsibilities. But adulthood had a way of pulling everyone in different directions. Yuma knew that but it still didn't make the longing any less real.

Kite Tenjo had become a shadow in his life, always distant, always preoccupied. Shark was no better; their conversations had become rare, reduced to polite exchanges rather than the deep talks they once shared. Rio was often with Kotori, and Yuma had been avoiding Kotori ever since their breakup. Even his relationship with Alito had shifted, strained by Alito's new relationship with Kotori. Yuma had insisted there were no hard feelings, but things weren't the same and more often than not Alito was seen with his own best friend Girag anyways.

On the other hand, Dumon and Mizar were practically strangers to him, and with Shark and Dumon together, Yuma rarely saw either of them. His other friends—Caswell, Cathy and Flip—had drifted away when they went to different schools. He hadn't heard from Trey or his brothers in some time either. Even when his father invited Vetrix and his sons over for dinner, it felt like a fleeting encounter, as soon after their absence once more was felt. Though it was possible they had been a part of the new travels his parents had departed on. So at the end of the day, Bronk and Ray were the two constants in Yuma’s life–but even with them, Yuma hesitated to impose.

Yet today, Ray had been there for him, stepping in without hesitation. Maybe, just maybe, Yuma thought, he could ask Ray to stay over. Not just as a thank-you, but because he missed having someone around, someone to share the silence with. "I'm fine, Akari," Yuma finally said, his voice betraying the uncertainty he felt. "Really. I just think... a sleepover with a friend might be a nice change."

Yuma couldn't be certain he'd masked the underlying pain well, especially after catching the concerned glances from not only his sister but now Ray as well. But he attempted to push off their worries by making light conversation the rest of the way home, even as troubling thoughts lingered in the back of his mind. The silent acknowledgment that Astral had brought them all together—and now, without him, they had all drifted apart. And the fact that perhaps it would take some type of external interference to bring them all back together. Even if Yuma realized this was not potentially ideal, as they had all striven so hard to bring about this well-deserved peace—but if this peace brought underlying pains… maybe similar struggles of old were worth resurfacing. No, he couldn't let his thoughts stray there—he by no means wanted to undo the work he, Astral, and the others had done… but he merely could not conceive of an alternative answer to bring back those cherished times.

As the vehicle came to a complete stop, Yuma felt the weight of his lingering thoughts begin to dissipate. The familiar hum of the city faded, replaced by the comforting silence of home. He stepped out of the car, his feet meeting the familiar ground of the Tsukumo residence as they took the final steps towards the house. “Grandma, we’re home!” Akari called out cheerfully, her voice carrying through the doorway as she pushed it open.

She swiftly removed her shoes and placed them neatly by the door, a routine she had perfected over the years. Ray following suit with his movements mirroring hers. Yuma, however, was momentarily distracted, his mind still racing. He took a step forward, forgetting the customary gesture. “SHOES OFF, YUMA!” Akari snapped, her tone sharp and commanding.

The sudden outburst startled Yuma, causing him to flinch. A sharp throb of discomfort pulsed in his head, a physical reminder of his absentmindedness. A hand soon moving to his temples, to rub them gently. “Ahh, right…” he muttered, chastising himself for the oversight.

Ray, ever the considerate friend, offered a bright smile. “I’ll help you, Yuma,” he said, stepping forward.

Yuma shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think I can manage that much,” he replied, bending down to remove his shoes properly.

Akari, satisfied that the matter was settled, turned toward the hallway. “I’m heading to my office to get some more research done if you need me,” she announced, pausing to glance over her shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, Ray,” she added, her concern for her brother still lingering.

Ray offered a brief salute, his expression both playful and sincere, while also being reminiscent of their youth. “You got it,” he responded, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

As Akari retreated to her office, intent on diving into her latest research, Ray turned his attention to Yuma. Without a word, he followed closely behind, a silent guardian ensuring his friend's well-being. Together, they made their way into the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of leftovers greeted them. Eagerly, they helped themselves to the meal, the simple act of sharing food bringing a sense of normalcy back to their evening. And between bites, they exchanged light chatter about their day, the mundane details grounding them in the present moment. Before they finally retreated to Yuma’s room for the evening. The familiar surroundings offering a sense of peace, a temporary respite from the challenges of the day. “The bed’s all yours, Ray,” Yuma motioned, content to take his typical sleeping arrangements in the attic, surrounded by the eclectic collection of his parents' adventures.

“Hey, Yuma…”

Ray’s voice caught him off guard as Yuma started to make his ascent to the attic via the small, colorful step ladder.

“What is it, Ray?” Yuma questioned, wondering if it was something more serious as he turned back to face his friend.

For a moment, Ray appeared to be contending with something, his usual bright demeanor faltering. His spiky orange hair and solemn purple eyes registering in Yuma’s gaze before Ray shifted to a soft, reassuring smile. “Sleep well,” Ray said, his voice carrying a warmth that belied the unspoken weight between them.

“You too, Ray,” Yuma responded, finally retreating back to his abode in the attic.

As Yuma settled into the hammock that served as his bed, the rhythmic sway offered a semblance of comfort. Yet, beneath the gentle motion, a gnawing thought lingered. Was Ray concealing something? The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had been reluctant to burden his friends with his own struggles, yet here he was, questioning Ray's silence. All the while hoping this time, whatever Ray was hiding, wouldn't lead to trouble—or worse, a rift that could tear them apart again. As the thought of losing Ray was unbearable… Over the years, Ray had become more than a friend; he was a constant, a pillar in Yuma's life. Their bond, forged through shared experiences and mutual understanding, had withstood the test of time since they’d agreed to give their friendship another go.

Despite the swirling uncertainties, Yuma closed his eyes, seeking solace in the familiar creak of the hammock. The night stretched before him, a canvas of shadows and fleeting thoughts. He clung to the hope that their friendship, like the hammock's sway, would endure, steady and unwavering as sleep finally took hold of him.

Chapter Text

Yuma's sleep, though deep, shattered abruptly in the dead of night. A sudden noise—a crash, a shout—pierced the stillness below. His head throbbed for a moment, the remnants of a lingering ache that slowly began to fade, but it was the panic that jolted him upright. He lurched out of his hammock, disoriented as his thoughts scrambled to catch up.

"Ray!" The name escaped his lips before he could think.

Adrenaline surged through Yuma as he scrambled down the ladder, feet pounding the wooden steps as he rushed to reach the floor below. His room was still, showing no signs of a disturbance but even so without hesitation, Yuma bolted for Ray's bedside. There, in the dim light, Ray lay tangled in his blankets, thrashing restlessly–the likely result of a nightmare. Yuma's heart sank a bit, concern etched on his face. His hand reaching out to gently grip Ray's shoulder, trying to anchor him back to reality. "Ray," he murmured, voice steady despite the storm of worry inside.

Yuma's grip tightened instinctively, but Ray's body jerked violently beneath his touch, as if battling unseen foes in the midst of his nightmare. But Yuma held firm, refusing to let go, his own heart pounding in sync with his friend's erratic movements. Then, with a final, shuddering gasp, Ray stilled—his body, his breath, everything. After a few seemingly long moments of silence, slowly Ray's eyes fluttered open, revealing the haunting shade of purple that had always unsettled Yuma.

The room coming into focus as the dream dissipated like mist. Ray only blinked, disoriented, before his gaze locked onto Yuma's form beside him. "Yuma..." His voice was hoarse, strained as if the nightmare still clung to him.

Yuma exhaled, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're okay, Ray," he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within him.

For the moment Yuma kept his hand on Ray's shoulder, a silent anchor in the aftermath of the storm. Yet, a slight nod from Ray—barely perceptible—was perhaps a signal that he was okay and reluctantly, Yuma finally released his grip as Ray sat up in bed, the sheets pooling in his lap. Yuma settled beside him, his presence a steadying force. "Do you usually have nightmares?" Yuma's voice was gentle, probing yet compassionate.

Ray was silent for a few moments, as if searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tinged with a vulnerability Yuma rarely heard. "...Never like this," Ray admitted. "They've been steadily getting worse."

Yuma's brow furrowed in concern. "So you haven't been sleeping?"

Ray's purple eyes met his, solemn and unblinking. "Earlier, you asked why I was at the nurse's office... well, it was to see if there was anything that could help me sleep. I guess it was all in vain.” He paused, collecting his thoughts before proceeding. "As a Barian, I thought any prescription from Earth might not be compatible, but we've all been brought back as humans..."

"Maybe you don't need medicine after all," Yuma said, trying to lighten the mood. "You just need someone beside you to fend off all those nightmares."

Ray's lips twitched, a faint chuckle escaping him. The haunted look in his eyes softened, if only for a moment. "I wouldn't want to give you another concussion," he teased, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"That's just a risk I'm willing to take for my friend," Yuma replied with unwavering determination.

A genuine smile broke through Ray's demeanor. "You really are awesome, Yu—"

But the lighter mood shattered in an instant. Ray's purple eyes widening in shock as his body stiffened. A sensation, foreign and unsettling, washed over him—a pull, a presence drawing near. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, perhaps never in this truly human form. "...It's coming," Ray whispered, his voice trembling.

Yuma's heart skipped a beat. "What's coming, Ray? What is it?"

Yuma had witnessed something similar long ago with Rio—how she sensed the Barians' presence before awakening as a Barian Emperor. But the Seven Emperors were no longer Barians; they'd been brought back as humans. So how could this be possible? Yet, how could he dismiss how genuine Ray seemed in the moment? Sure, in the past, he'd been easily duped, but it wasn't the same now. Ray had had five years to fall back into old patterns, and given his personality as Vector, surely he would have faultered if this were some kind of trick. Yet, knowing this was all real posed new problems. Who or what was coming? And without Astral, would they really be able to face this? He was barely finding time to process this when Ray's voice cut in. "Yuma, we have to go."

His tone was serious, carrying the weight of the situation. And while Yuma understood the urgency, he couldn't shake the worry about his own abilities. Life had changed so much in the past five years. He hadn't been dueling as much as he would have liked—or as much as he used to. He hadn’t even taken the time to update his deck. And again, without Astral, could he do this? Sure, there had been times he was able to battle and stand on his own, but he just wasn't certain if this would be one of those times with these contributing factors. And yet, if their home was in danger, it was only a matter of time before this enemy was on their doorstep, perhaps even looking for the Numbers at that. Thus, it was Yuma's responsibility to protect the Number cards Astral had entrusted to him. And besides, wasn't this what he'd guiltily wanted—a chance to bring everyone together again?

Yuma was weary from his troubled mind, but the answer was obvious. He took a deep breath, nodded, and said, "Let's go, Ray."

Within moments, Yuma and Ray had donned their attire and grabbed their gear—duel disks, gazers, and decks—before stepping into the cool night air. The brisk wind cut through the remnants of sleepiness, sharpening their senses as they moved swiftly through the quiet suburban streets. Yuma's red eyes flicked toward Ray, who was scanning the surroundings as they moved, his posture tense. Suddenly and without warning Ray stopped, raising an arm to signal Yuma to halt. A thick fog had begun to descend, swirling around them, dimming the streetlights and casting eerie shadows. A figure looming from within the mist faintly outlined, its form indistinct but undeniably present. "Show yourself!" Ray's voice rang out, steady despite the uncertainty.

A chilling laugh echoed from the figure. "So eager to meet your end! I like it!"

Yuma's heart skipped a beat. The voice was unmistakable—high-pitched, manic, and all too familiar. "Th-That can't be..." Ray stammered, his face paling as recognition dawned.

The fog finally parting to reveal the figure in full. It was Ray—or rather, a perfect imitation of his Barian form as Vector. The sight was surreal. Ray's Barian form stood imposingly, with sharp angular features and a dark armored body adorned with crimson accents. His eyes glowing with an unnatural light, and his presence exuding an all too familiar aura of malevolence. Ray's breath caught in his throat. "No...you can’t be me," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Yuma stepped closer, his gaze unwavering as he assessed the uncanny doppelgänger. A chill running down his spine—not from the night air, but from the eerie familiarity of the situation. This encounter mirrored the original reveal of Vector, yet this time, Yuma was at the forefront, not arriving at the tail end. Despite his reservations, he couldn't deny the truth: the Barian Emperors were human now, stripped of their Barian powers. This couldn't be Ray's doing and this individual couldn’t be Ray. "Ray’s a human now," Yuma declared, his voice firm as if reassuring his own conclusion. "This can't be possible. We won't fall for your tricks!"

Ray, still shaken, found solace in his friend's unwavering faith. Taking a moment to straighten himself and allow his resolve to harden. "Yuma's right," Ray affirmed, his voice steady. "You won't fool us. Drop the disguise!"

The imitation of Vector tilted its head, mockingly grinning despite the lack of an exposed mouth. "Oh, but it is YOU. The REAL you, buried deep inside. I'm just bringing it to the surface."

Ray's eyes narrowed, his determination unshaken. "No. I'm not that person anymore. And you won't make me be!"

With a swift motion, Ray activated his duel disk. "If you want to play this game, let's do it. But know this—I'm not backing down."

Yuma stood by his side, unwavering. "We're in this together, Ray. Let's show them the strength of our unbreakable friendship!"

The duo exchanged a determined nod, their synchronized voices cutting through the tension: “Duel Disk, go! Duel Gazer, let’s roll!”

With practiced precision, they equipped their duel disks and readied their decks, facing the imposter who mirrored Vector's every move. The counterfeit Vector summoning his own signature duel disk, its design eerily identical to that of the Barian duel disk Ray as Vector once used. “Two against one? No fair!” The imitation of Vector feigned his disapproval, then burst into manic laughter. “Just kidding! You’ll need all the help you can get. Duel!”

Without hesitation, Ray and Yuma drew their cards, their resolve unwavering. The night air seeming to crackle with anticipation as the duel commenced. “Let’s duel.”

"Seeing as you’re facing the greatest Barian of them all, I'll take the first move!" The imitation of Vector declared with facial expression lifting as if he was mockingly grinning at them, before drawing a card with exaggerated flair. His eyes gleamed with malicious intent. "Uh-oh! This is looking really bad—for YOU!" he sneered, slamming a card onto his duel disk. "I summon Umbral Horror Ghoul in Attack Position!"

The eerie monster materialized, its shadowy form flickering ominously but the imposter continued. "Just in case you forgot," the imitation continued, "I can reduce Umbral Horror Ghoul's ATK to zero to Special Summon Umbral Horror Unform!"

With a dark laugh, he gestured grandly to newly summoned Umbral Horror Unform. "Now, I overlay my Umbral Horror Ghoul and Umbral Horror Unform to Xyz Summon Number 66: Master Key Beetle!"

The field trembled as the formidable Xyz Monster appeared, its golden limbs unfolding menacing as the beetle took form. "But that's not all," he taunted, "I activate the effect of Sargasso the Different Dimension Battlefield!"

A swirling vortex manifested as the card registered on the duel disk, distorting the space around them. "But don't worry," he smirked, "The only one taking damage will be YOU! As I discard Sargasso Lighthouse!"

"But let's not stop there," he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance slipping the card into his graveyard. "I'm pulling out all the stops!"

With a flourish, he activated Magical Tomb, a Continuous Spell that allowed him to select a card from Yuma's deck and seal it away beneath the tomb's shadowy depths. "I think you know which card I'm sealing away, Yuma," he taunted. "Your Rank-Up-Magic Numeron Force won't be coming to your aid this time! Especially after, I use one overlay unit to activate Master Key Beetles ability making it impossible to destroy Magical Tomb!"

The arena crackled with energy as the Doopleganger's trap took hold, and Yuma's expression darkened with frustration. He had anticipated this move, but the sting of having one his ace card sealed away was undeniable. His hand clenched into a fist, teeth gritted, as memories he had long buried resurfaced—his first confrontation with Vector, the harrowing battle within Sargasso. These recollections stirred emotions Yuma thought he'd come to terms with, but he couldn't afford to falter now. Ray was counting on him. His partner's resolve had also seemed shaken, perhaps worried that Yuma might still harbor doubts about his true allegiance. But Yuma refused to let that uncertainty cloud his judgment. He had to stay strong—for Ray, for their friendship, and for the hope that had always guided him.

With a deep breath, Yuma steadied his nerves. He wouldn't let the shadows of the past dictate the outcome of this duel. His faith in Ray would remain unshaken, and with that conviction, he prepared to turn the tide in their favor. "Now I set one card and end my turn," the Doopleganger concluded with a flourish. “I hope you two are truly ready for one shocking battle!”

"The only one who's going to get shocked is you when you lose!" Yuma retorted in anger, drawing his card fiercely. "I activate Gagaga Academy Emergency Network! Since I control no monsters and you have one, I can Special Summon a Gagaga monster from my Deck. And I’m calling out an old friend–Rise up, Gagaga Magician!"

In a flash the spellcaster had appeared on the battlefield, ready for action. "But he won't be alone," Yuma continued, "Because when I have a level 4 monster on my field I can special Summon this–Kagetokage!"

Now it was the reptilian monster’s turn to slither onto the field in its shadowy form as soon as the card registered in the duel disk. "But there's still more," Yuma grinned, his eyes alight with determination. "I Special Summon Gagaga Girl, and her effect increases her Level to 4!"

"Nice moves, Yuma!" Ray cheered from beside him, his voice filled with encouragement.

A flash of embarrassment spread across Yuma's face as he rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Ray," he muttered, before his expression shifted back to one of fierce resolve. "Alright, get ready!" Yuma declared, his voice rising with excitement. "Cause I'm feeling the flow!"

With a swift motion, he raised his hand high. "I overlay my Level 4 Gagaga Magician and Gagaga Girl to Xyz Summon Number 39: Utopia!"

The legendary warrior clad in white and gold materialized before him, its shining form ready for battle. Yet, this nostalgic moment of successfully summoning his and Astral’s card was cut short. "Uh-uh-uh," the imitation of Vector interrupted with a singsong voice, "If you want to play, then you gotta pay~"

As if on cue, the effects of Sargasso the Different Dimension Battlefield activated, sending a shockwave through the arena. Yuma gasped in pain, staggering slightly. Ray's eyes widening in horror as he took a step towards his partner, calling out, "Yuma!"

Yuma steadied himself, a grin spreading across his face as he offered a confident thumbs-up. Taking a thousand life points on the first turn wasn't ideal, but it was a small price to pay to summon Number 39: Utopia and keep his ace monster on the field. As Yuma knew they'd need Utopia if they hoped to win this duel. "I'm okay," he said with a determined smile, as he set his card concluding his turn. "It's your move, pal."

"Right!" Ray exclaimed, his voice steady and confident. "Now I’ll show you how a true master of Umbral Horrors operates this deck! I draw!"

Ray's eyes gleamed with determination as he drew his card, his fingers brushing against the edges with practiced flair. "Come on out Umbral Horror Ghoul–let’s start out by activating your own effect and calling out our own Umbral Horror Unform! Now I overlay my Umbral Horror Ghoul, Umbral Horror Unformed and Yuma’s Kagetokage to build the overlay network! I XYZ summon Number 104, Masquerade!"

"You got this, Ray!" Yuma cheered from beside him, his voice filled with encouragement.

Ray offered a brief nod in acknowledgment, his focus never wavering. He knew the stakes were high, but he was resolute in his commitment to Yuma and their shared goal. The imitation of Vector sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Don’t you think about forgetting Sargasso’s effect!"

As if on cue, the effects of Sargasso the Different Dimension Battlefield activated once more, sending a shockwave through the arena. Ray staggered slightly, the pain coursing through his body as his life points dropped from 4000 to 3500. Yuma's eyes widening in concern this time. "Ray!"

Ray steadied himself, a grimace crossing his face. "I’ll be taking it again after this... but it will be worth it."

With a deep breath, he set his next card on the duel disk. "Now I activate Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force! I rebuild the overlay network with Number 104: Masquerade… Now appear, Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade!" Ray commanded.

In a flash the ominous form of Umbral Horror Masquerade materialized, its shadowy presence casting a pall over the battlefield. But just as it appeared so too did the effects of Sargasso the Different Dimension Battlefield’s, unleashing a surge of energy that struck Ray once more. The impact nearly sent him to his knees, his life points plummeting to 3000. The imitation of Vector sneering as his voice dripped with mockery. "You must be a glutton for punishment or something!" He taunted. "Careful, I'm not sure a weakling like you can handle the end-of-round damage!"

Ray's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger igniting within him. For a moment, his demeanor shifted—his usual calm and cheerful self replaced by a fierce determination. "You won't be laughing for much longer," he growled, "It's not wise to make me angry."

Yuma cast a concerned glance at his friend, noticing the familiar intensity in Ray's gaze—a reflection of his time as Vector. He knew that Ray was being pushed past his limits, not just because of the duel and its implications, but because his friend was desperately trying to prove his loyalty and strength to Yuma. And because of that, Yuma wished he could be there to comfort Ray as he struggled through this but they had to stay focused on the duel. So for now, Yuma would merely observe, eyes flickering to Ray who was clearly trying to pull himself together by taking a breath to refocus. His friend moving next to steady himself and his resolve as purple eyes directed towards the imitation. "Now, since Umbral Horror Masquerade was Special Summoned," Ray continued, his voice unwavering, "I activate its effect. Say bye bye to your set card!"

With a swift motion, Ray directed his signature card to obliterate the opposing Spell or Trap Card, before proceeding to the next phase of his plan. "But let's not stop there," Ray added, his confidence returning. "Umbral Horror Masquerade, attack Master Key Beetle!"

The ominous figure lunged forward, its attack poised to strike as the Doopleganger’s voice cackled in response, trying to regain control. "Not so fast! I activate Master Key Beetle's effect–"

Ray only interrupted sharply with a cruel laugh of his own. "For one claiming to be me, you don't know my deck as well as you should!" He mocked with a smirk. "I activate Umbral Horror Masquerade's special ability! Your Master Key Beetle's effect is negated–"

"Uh-uh-uh… Are you certain about this? Have you forgotten you're dueling with a partner?" The imitation of Vector taunted, wagging a finger mockingly. "You truly intend to destroy Master Key Beetle instead of letting me remove Magical Tomb from play?"

His words lingered, causing Ray to falter. Was this the right decision? Destroying Master Key Beetle could be pivotal but so too could allowing the imitation to sacrifice the Magical Tomb–especially with Rank-Up-Magic Numeron’s Force potentially aiding Yuma's playstyle and countering Sargassos' effects for both of them. "It's alright, Ray,” Yuma's voice cut through Ray’s thoughts. “If you believe we don't need the card, I trust your judgment."

Ray's gaze shifted, meeting Yuma's unwavering eyes. "...Yuma…"

"I know you wouldn't make a move that'd put us both in danger. So if you've got a strategy, I'm with you all the way," Yuma declared, his voice full of unwavering confidence. "Because we’re partners! And that’s what partners do!"

Ray’s expression softened for a moment, then steeled with determination. "...You’re right, Yuma," he said, eyes narrowing as he stared down the imitation. "We’re partners, and because of that, I’ll look out for you, too."

His gaze locked on the imitation, burning with resolve. "Now go ahead. Activate your special ability and save your beetle, because Umbral Horror Masquerade’s attack still continues!" Ray announced.

"As you wish!" the imitation replied.

A dark chuckle followed his words as he gleamed, clearly enjoying the situation. "I activate Master Key Beetle’s special ability! By sacrificing Magical Tomb, my beetle’s sticking around for a while longer! And of course, your little friend gets his card back…But!" He smirked, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "Let’s see if you really made the right move, Ray... if that's really what you call yourself now."

The doppelgänger sneered–even as his life points decreased by 500 for the damage taken from the attack still–and Ray felt his jaw tighten in frustration. His annoyance reaching a peak as he slammed two cards into his duel disk with force. "I set two cards and end my turn," he growled, barely containing his irritation.

"Then once more! Ladies and gentlemen, Sargasso’s effect activates!" The imitation of Vector cheered.

Ray's life points plummeted again by an additional 500–this time causing him to collapse to his knees, visibly weakened. "Ray!" Yuma cried out, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes.

"I’ll be alright, Yuma…" Ray reassured, though his tone was strained.

"But you’re hurt," Yuma protested, his concern evident.

Ray met his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I wasn’t the only one hurt," he said acknowledging Yuma’s own suffering as he slowly rose to his feet. "But we’ll get through this together."

"Bleck! Get a room—preferably after I beat you!" The Doppelganger mocked, shaking his head. "But aren’t you forgetting, Yuma? How much trouble he’s put you through? Ray can dress up and call himself whatever he wants—but that won’t change the truth. HE’S me, and I AM him! It’s only a matter of time before he double-crosses you again. And by the rate you two are getting sappy, I don’t think your little heart can handle it!"

"Shut up!" Yuma growled, his fists clenched. "I won’t let you talk about Ray like that. Are you gonna duel, or are you just stalling to try and ruin our game? Because we aren’t faltering. So you better have a good strategy if you think you can beat us!"

"Cocky… I like it," the imposter sneered, twisting with growing delight. He reached for his deck, drawing a card with deliberate slowness. "I draw!"

The Doppelganger's shoulders trembled with barely contained laughter. These two were utterly oblivious to what they were about to face and by the time they realized, it would be far too late. But who was he to deny them their swift end? With a flourish, the imposter activated a spell card, sliding it into the set position. "I activate the spell card Soulful Exchange. At the cost of 1000 measly life points, I can draw two new cards!--You two are so out of your league, I’m hardly going to need them anyway!" He chuckled darkly, savoring the moment.

His life points shifted from 3500 to 2500 as he drew his next two cards. "I think I’ll just set these two cards and end my turn," he declared, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Ray's expression darkened. "He's toying with us…" His voice was low, filled with frustration and determination.

Yuma clenched his hands into fists, his resolve hardening. "Even if he is, we’ll show him he picked the wrong duo to mess with!" He placed his hand on his deck, eyes burning with determination. "My move— I draw!"

Yuma drew his card, his fingers brushing against the familiar texture of Rainbow Kuriboh. This card had saved him before; its comforting presence was a silent promise that he wasn't alone and he tucked it back into his hand, knowing its time would come if the duel took a dire turn. His focus instead shifting to the card he had regained now that Magical Tomb was gone: Rank-Up-Magic Numeron’s Force. This was the game-changer. With it, he could negate Sargasso’s effect and prevent further damage to both himself and Ray. "Here goes," Yuma muttered, setting the card in his duel disk. "I activate Rank-Up-Magic Numeron’s Force! With this card I can rank up my Utopia into a Chaos Number. Come forth—Chaos Number 39: Utopia Ray Victory!" He shouted, his voice filled with determination.

The air crackled with energy as Utopia ascended into the swirling overlay network, returning as the formidable Utopia Ray Victory. Its presence was a beacon of hope, a testament to Yuma's growth and resolve. "Now! I use one overlay unite from Utopia Ray Victory–VICTORY CHARGE!"

The already powerful XYZ monsters attack swiftly shifted from 2800 to 5300, since the effect added the attack points of Master Key Beetle to Utopia’s own attack points. Yuma's heart was racing now; this could be the decisive blow. If this worked the duel would be over, something Yuma could only hope would be the case as he steadied his resolver. "Alright, Utopia Ray Victory attacks–RISING SUN DOUBLE VICTORY SLASH!" Yuma commanded, his voice resolute.

As the swordsman charged forward, Yuma held his breath, praying for victory. But then, the imposter's voice sliced through the tension. "I activate my trap card! XYZ Discharge!" The Doppelganger announced maliciously.

"Wait, what?!" Yuma exclaimed, his stomach sinking. He recognized the trap; it had been used against Shark during his duel with Vector. This was bad.

The imposter sneered with delight. "Yuma! You have to discard one card from your hand and then you gain control of Master Key Beetle!"

Gritting his teeth, Yuma complied, sending Rainbow Kuriboh to the graveyard before glancing at Ray, seeking any sign of a plan. "End your turn, Yuma," Ray advised, his voice low. "He's up to something."

"Come now, where’s the fun in that?!" the imposter shrieked with manic delight. "We’re just getting started!"

He didn't give Yuma a moment to breathe as the Doppelganger pushed on. "I activate the spell card Design Rationale from the graveyard!" The imposter's voice dripped with mockery. "The Card YOU, Ray, were so thoughtful enough to destroy! Ready to hear how it works? I bet you are!"

He flaunted his move, savoring every word as Ray seemed to twist in annoyance at the revelation. "You see, I can draw a card despite whose turn it is and activate it right away as long as I discard one card from my field and seeing as Sargasso the Different Dimension Battlefield is completely useless now, this will do just fine!"

The Doppelganger practically gleamed with delight as he drew his new card. "Uh-oh... this is the beginning of the end for you!" He exclaimed, positioning his card. "I activate Battle Reversal! This card resets the Battle Phase—BUT! If my opponent has monsters on their field in attack position, they are forced to attack... You know... this effect could have been negated, but it requires having actual cards in your hand, Yuma! But seeing as you don’t have any, our battle resumes! So go ahead, Yuma!! Strike me down!!"

The imposter's insanity had reached a fever pitch as Yuma gritted his teeth in frustration. He would have had a card in his hand if the imposter hadn’t made him send Rainbow Kuriboh to the graveyard, but it was too late now and all he could hope was that they’d make it through this. His red eyes cast over to exchange looks with Ray as the two prepared to brace for whatever was in store for them. Thus with no choice, Yuma resumed the attack, hoping whatever trickery lay behind this move could still be countered. But as the set card revealed itself, their hope for victory dimmed, if not became near impossible. "By the way, your hearts just sank—I’m certain you know what this means," the imposter taunted. "I’m activating the trap—Duel Destruction! Since I have no monsters on my field and you both have monsters, I can destroy them indiscriminately despite whose field they are on! And the best part? You both take 500 points of damage for the number of monsters on your respective fields! Yet, the chaos doesn’t stop there, because I can take a spell or trap card from my deck and immediately set it!" The imposter shrieked in further delight as Yuma took his 1000 points of damage and Ray took his 500 respectively. "Can’t you see it now... things are turning out the Ray Way—and there’s no WAY you’re going to be able to turn this around!"

Yuma gritted his teeth, turning away slightly. "I end my turn."

Ray's heart clenched at the sight of Yuma's frustration. The weight of their predicament bore heavily on him; with no monsters on either field, their chances seemed slim. He glanced at his hand, hoping for a miracle, but the card he drew—Overlay Regen—offered little solace. This spell could only attach itself as an Xyz overlay unit to an Xyz Monster, but without one on the field, it was useless. His purple eyes met Yuma's, both silently acknowledging the dire straits they were in. Yet, in that shared glance, there was an unspoken promise: that they wouldn't give up. No matter how hopeless it seemed. With a resigned sigh Ray could only mutter "I end my turn," the weight of the words heavier than the card itself.

"My turn at last?! I was getting bored! I draw!" The imposter exclaimed, pulling a card from his deck with a sinister glee. "Oh well! Here it comes, the final act!"

He slammed the card onto the field, his voice dripping with malice. "I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force! This new formidable rank-up spell allows me to overlay Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade and Chaos Number 39: Utopia Ray Victory to build the overlay network and XYZ Summon Chaos Number 5: Chimera Dragon! But what fun is a measly 2000 attack points when Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force ensures my monster comes back with an extra added charge by becoming an additional overlay unit! After all, everyone casts a shadow!"

A dark energy crackled through the air, coalescing into a swirling vortex. From its depths, a monstrous shape tore through the void — Chaos Number 5: Chimera Dragon. Crimson scales shimmered like blood in moonlight as the beast let out a roar that shook to the very core. Its wings unfurled with a thunderous snap, casting a shadow that swallowed the field whole. Yuma and Ray only stood frozen and while they had known facing Chimera Dragon was a possible outcome given they were facing Ray’s Umbral Deck–with their current knowledge of Rank-Up-Magic cards, they had been under the assumption they would have had more time to prepare their fields. Unfortunately, that was not the case and the menacing dragon loomed heavy on the horizon imposing the destruction it was sure to wrought. "Well," their opponent sneered, voice dripping with cruel delight, "I wish I could say it's been fun. But honestly? I expected more of a fight." He raised his hand as if feigning defense for his brutal honesty. "No hard feelings–but say bye-bye to your Life Points... and any chance of crawling away from this duel alive!"

Chapter Text

The only thought racing through Yuma’s mind was simple—survive the Doppelganger’s turn. If he could just make it to his own turn, maybe—just maybe—they could turn this around. But their chances teetered on a knife’s edge, balanced precariously on whatever cards the imitation had in store. This wasn’t Ray’s usual deck anymore. The Doppelganger had made changes—subtle at first, but unmistakably dangerous. Some cards were familiar echoes, others completely foreign. Tweaks and traps, no doubt tailored to exploit every weakness and Yuma had no way of predicting what would come next. But he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. “Now that my dragon has settled in on the field,” the Doppelganger declared with a smirk, “I activate the spell card Overlay Burst! It lets me deal damage equal to the number of Overlay Units my monster has... times a thousand!” He turned with a cruel grin. “And this one’s coming your way, Ray!”

Ray froze as the words sank in. The Doppelganger cackling as his voice sliced through the silence like broken glass. “Three thousand damage. I’m guessing you realize that’s more than your pathetic two thousand life points?” He sneered before leaning forward mockingly. “Of course, there is one way out. If Yuma takes half that damage himself, the effect is negated. But tell me…” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Does he really want to save you? Especially when he’s barely holding on himself?”

The dragon loomed in front of the imitation, the spell card beginning to glow. “So?” the Doppelganger jeered. “Should we end this story right here and now?”

“Not a chance!” Yuma shot back, eyes blazing. “I’m giving up my life points for Ray!”

Ray’s breath caught in his throat. A sharp sting welled in the corners of his eyes as he stared at his friend. Yuma’s loyalty burned brighter than ever, but Ray knew—if Yuma gave up his life points now, it might cost them the entire duel. He forced himself to speak, even as doubt and gratitude tangled in his chest. “Don’t… don’t do this, Yuma. Don’t bail me out… You don’t need to save me. You can beat him on your own—”

“What are you even saying right now?!” Yuma cut him off, voice firm and unwavering. “We started this duel together—we’re gonna finish it together! I don’t care how bad it looks… I know we can win!”

Ray stared at him, speechless. “…Yuma…”

“I know you're struggling, Ray,” Yuma said, his voice steady despite the pressure. “But we're going to get through this. So don’t worry—I’ve got this. I’ll take care of everything.”

The duel felt like a haunting echo from the past—each move, each heartbeat mirroring moments they had lived before. Battles fought either side by side or against one another, highs and lows that had shaped who they were. Yuma could feel it all crashing down on him now as his heart pounded against his chest: the hard-won fights, the sacrifices made...the bitter victories paved with scars. But most of all, he remembered losing Ray—to the darkness that was his Barian self Vector. He’d watched Ray slip away once before and he wouldn’t let it happen again. “…I… I just…” Yuma's voice cracked as his body trembled. “I’m not gonna let you disappear like you did last time. I won’t let go!”

Ray could only whisper his name. “Yuma…”

A loud scoff cut through the moment. He leaned forward, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “But enough with the melodrama. We get it—you’re playing the noble idiot and giving up your life points. Bravo.” He gave a theatrical bow, then snapped upright, his tone turning cold and sharp. “Now shut up and let me finish my turn.”

The Doppelganger’s eyes gleamed with twisted delight. “This is MY moment!” he snarled, stomping his foot like a spoiled child denied a toy. “So take your damage and let’s move on!”

A surge of searing pain jolted through Yuma’s body as his life points plummeted—from 2000 to 500 in an instant. He staggered but didn’t fall, his face contorting for just a moment before he forced a confident grin and shot Ray a thumbs-up. Ray’s eyes widened with concern, but Yuma’s smile held steady. The Doppelganger scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Spare me the act,” he sneered. “You’ve only delayed the inevitable. Nothing more. Now—Time for the Battle Phase! Chaos Chimera’s attack may be halved when attacking directly... but this will be more than enough to remind you two of your situation. Chaos Chimera Dragon attack Ray directly!”

He raised a hand theatrically as the dragon unleashed its assault, but before the blow could land— “I don’t think so!” Yuma shouted, seizing his chance. “Because I’m activate Rainbow Kuriboh’s effect from my graveyard—Ray’s not taking a single point of damage!”

A glimmering sphere of light burst forth, forming into the small, determined figure of Rainbow Kuriboh, before shooting off to intercept the dragon’s attack with a flash of radiant energy, absorbing the blast and vanishing just as quickly. Yuma barely having time to offer the little creature a quick thumbs-up as it faded. “Thanks, buddy… I knew you’d have my back.”

The Doppelganger growled, grinding his teeth. “Tch. Fine! You want to play stubborn?” He thrust his arm forward, fury in his voice. “Chaos Chimera Dragon uses one of its Chaos Overlay Units! In doing so its attack is dropped by 1000, but I can banish a card from the top of your deck, Ray–and this time when it attacks even if you’ll only take half of Chimera Dragon’s attack points there won’t be anything to protect you!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Ray cut in sharply, beating Yuma to the punch. His voice was calm but resolute. “I activate my trap—Shining Stunt! I’ll still take damage, but it’s cut in half!”

The trap sprang to life with a burst of shimmering light, but even so, the force of the attack hurled Ray backward. He hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor as his life points dropped from 2000 to 1500 and while the pain was very much real–he was still in the fight.

“Way to feel the flow, Ray!” Yuma shouted, pumping a fist in the air. There was a spark of pride in his voice, though the concern in his eyes hadn’t vanished.

Ray groaned, forcing himself up with a wince, but managed a small grin. “Thanks, Yuma. I think... we might actually have a shot at turning this around.”

“You think?” Yuma grinned back, letting out a breathy laugh. “Come on, I knew we had this from the start!”

The Doppelganger’s eye twitched. “Enough!” he shrieked, voice slicing through the air like a blade. “Quit your pathetic celebrating! You dare mock me with this weak bravado?!”

His form crackled with chaotic energy, his fury barely contained. “No one makes a mockery of me!!!”

“Once again, I use Chaos Chimera’s Overlay Unit!” the Doppelganger roared, his voice brimming with malicious glee. “Its attack drops by a thousand—but in exchange, I banish another card from Ray’s deck and launch a direct attack!”

The dragon surged forward for another attack of chaotic energy tearing through the air. “You’re not taking us down that easy!” Yuma shouted, stepping in. “I activate Half Unbreak! It targets YOUR monster and cuts the damage in half—he’s staying in this!”

“And I’m activating my own card too!” Ray added, offering Yuma a thumbs up. “I activate Card of Endurance! Since Chaos Chimera’s attack was already halved, and Yuma cut the damage again, I’ll take just 250 points—but I’ll pay an additional 1000 to trigger my card’s effect, allowing me to draw a card!”

The blast struck before the words even finished. Ray was thrown back, hitting the ground hard as the attack slammed into him. A second wave hit—less visible, but just as brutal—as the cost of his card drained more of his life force. His life points plummeting to a perilous 250. Everything felt heavy. His limbs, his thoughts—his vision blurred at the edges. It would’ve been so easy to let go, to close his eyes and let the darkness take over. But he couldn’t. Yuma’s voice pierced through the haze. “Come on, Ray… get up!”

The Doppelganger watched with twisted amusement, arms crossed, sneering. “One pathetic card? Is that your master plan?” he hissed. “Let’s hope you can even see the card you just drew—because nothing you pull will save you now.”

Ray’s hands trembled as he tried to push himself up, but his strength faltered and he collapsed back to the ground. Every breath was a struggle, every movement sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through his body. But like the card he’d just played—Card of Endurance—he refused to give in. He gritted his teeth and tried again, this time he felt someone lifting him. Through the blur clouding his vision, a familiar figure came into focus—Yuma, steadying him with both hands. “We’re gonna finish this together, Ray,” Yuma said, voice firm and unwavering. “So don’t you dare let go now.”

Ray managed a shaky nod, drawing strength from his partner’s presence. The Doppelganger clapped mockingly, slow and condescending. “How inspiring,” he sneered. “But it’s a shame your little moment won’t matter.”

He thrust a hand into the air, eyes glowing with cruel delight. “I activate Chaos Chimera Dragon’s secondary effect! All of Ray’s banished cards return to his deck! But don’t get excited—those cards won’t help you. They’re dead weight–and while it cost me half my life point, you two are practically finished anyways. So what does matter is that Chaos Chimera regains all of its Overlay Units—and its attack returns to the full 3000!”

The dragon roared behind him, surging with renewed power as shimmering energy flowed back into its body. The Doppelganger's life points dropped from 2500 to 1250, but he hardly looked phased compared to the rough shape the other two were in. “So keep struggling, keep clinging to hope,” the Doppelganger spat, his expression widening into something monstrous. “Because on my next turn—this duel is over.”

Yuma on the other hand refused to be intimidated by this threat. “You’re not getting a next turn!” he snapped, tightening his grip on Ray’s shoulder before stepping forward.

Ray was on his feet now, barely—but standing. Hopefully, he would stay that way but for now it was Yuma’s turn. He raised his hand to his deck, eyes burning with defiance. “It’s my move—and I draw!”

Yuma’s eyes narrowed as the card slid between his fingers. For a moment, something flickered behind his gaze—hope, maybe—but he simply set the card face-down with deliberate calm. “That’s it for me,” he said, stepping back.
The Doppelganger exploded into laughter, pointing a mocking finger at Yuma. “That’s it? Don’t tell me you failed! You didn’t get the card you needed, did you? HAH! I told you—this duel is done!”
Yuma didn’t flinch. He met the mockery head-on with a cool smile. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. But now it’s Ray’s turn… so you’ll just have to wait and see.”
The Doppelganger’s grin twisted cruelly. “Ooh, I’m trembling. What’s he going to do with two pathetic cards and two rounds where he can’t draw anything he can use?” The imitation cackled, arms flailing mockingly. “Come on, look at him! He can barely stand! You should’ve let me finish him when you had the chance, Yuma. He’s dead weight now—and he’s going to cost you the duel.”
Yuma’s smile vanished. “Be quiet,” he said, voice low and cold.
The Doppelganger tilted his head, feigning innocence.

“You tried to take Ray away from me before,” Yuma continued, stepping forward. “You turned him into something he wasn’t. You twisted him into Vector—and I got him back. I won’t let the shadow you cast break him again. I don’t care how weak he looks… Ray’s not giving up. Not this time.”

Yuma’s gaze flicked back to Ray—his partner, his friend—who looked ready to collapse at any moment. His eyes were hollow, his steps unsteady, every movement weighed down by exhaustion and pain. But still… Ray moved forward. With trembling effort, Ray placed a hand on Yuma’s shoulder and lowered his head, leaning into the contact for just a second to find the strength he needed. Yuma’s heart clenched at the sight, the concern in his eyes plain as day. But then came Ray’s voice—soft but resolute. “I’ll take it from here, Yuma.”

Yuma gave a tearful nod in response, his eyes shimmering, trusting Ray even through the pain of it. Ray straightened himself as much as his battered body would allow and reached for his deck. “I draw!” he declared, his voice rising with renewed purpose.

The card he drew slid free—one of the two that had been banished earlier, rendered useless. But Ray’s determination didn’t waver even as the Doppelganger burst into a mocking laugh. “Really? That’s your big moment? A card you can’t even use? This is almost sad!”
Ray lifted his head, locking eyes with the sneering imitation. “I never intended to use the cards you banished,” he replied coolly. “As a dear old friend of ours once said…”
He raised the card high, voice clear and full of conviction. “We have the winning formula. And everything I need… is already in my hand,” Ray said, quoting Astral. “Now let’s end this duel, Yuma!”

“Yeah!” Yuma shouted, thrusting his fist too the sky. “It’s time to high-five the sky!”

Ray stood firm, his voice gaining strength with every word. “I’ll start by activating my Spell Card—Glorious Numbers! Since I control no monsters, I can Special Summon one from my graveyard… and I’m bringing back Number 39: Utopia!”

A beam of golden light erupted onto the field as Utopia reappeared, radiant and defiant. “And that’s not all,” Ray continued. “Glorious Numbers also lets me draw one card!”

He drew swiftly—another of the previously banished cards.

The Doppelganger let out a derisive snort. “Another banished card? Are you dumb or something?”

Ray didn’t even blink. “I already told you—I don’t need those cards.”

He lifted his arm high, revealing the final piece with calm determination. “The last card’s been waiting in my hand for this moment for a long time. I activate Overlay Regen! It becomes an Overlay Unit for Utopia!”

Energy surged around Utopia, one shining orb of power orbiting it once again as Ray pointed toward the Doppelganger with renewed fire in his eyes. “Now—Utopia, attack!”

The Doppelganger’s face twisted in confusion. “One Overlay Unit isn’t going to save you!---What?! You’re attacking? With less attack points?! You really did hit your head, didn’t you? ”

Ray’s lips curved into a smirk. “Hmph… I’m attacking so I can do this.”

He raised a hand as the Overlay unit began to light up. “Utopia uses its Overlay Unit to cancel the attack!”

The Doppelganger blinked. “Wait—what?! Why would you—?” The imposter began before panic began to set in. “No. No—you can’t!”

Yuma grinned. “That’s right! We’re activating the Quick-Play Spell—Double or Nothing!”

Ray’s voice responded with power. “Utopia’s attack is doubled—from 2500 to 5000! And now… it can attack again!”

Utopia’s blade blazed with radiant energy, crackling like a star about to explode. The battlefield stilled in anticipation of what was to come. “Now go, Utopia—Rising Sun Slash!” Yuma and Ray shouted in unison, voices ringing with unstoppable resolve.

With a flash of golden light, Utopia launched forward—pure speed and fury—its blade slicing through the Chaos Chimera Dragon. “NOOO!” the Doppelganger shrieked, his voice rising into a panicked wail as his dragon shattered in a burst of light.

The impact tore through his defenses, delivering a massive 2000 points of damage—far more than the 1250 life points he had left. The numbers plummeted to zero in a flash as the battlefield dissolved. A split second later, the Duel Gazers worn by Yuma and Ray lit up with a brilliant display:

VICTORY!

The holographic letters gleamed above the field with their respective images, confirming what they already knew. The duel was over. They had won.

Ray felt his legs finally gave out as he collapsed to his knees. Yuma was at his side in an instant, worry etched across his face. But before he could speak, he noticed Ray wasn’t looking at him—his friend’s eyes were locked ahead, focused on the place where the Doppelganger had vanished. Floating there, suspended in eerie stillness, was a swirling orb of dark energy—shadowy, pulsing, alive. “What is that?” Yuma asked, his voice hushed, instinctively rising to his feet as Ray did the same.

Ray’s expression was distant… almost reverent. “I… I understand now…” he murmured.

Yuma’s heart skipped. “Wait—Ray, what are you saying?! You’re not gonna disappear on me again, are you?!”

Ray shook his head, slowly turning to meet Yuma’s eyes. His gaze was calm. Certain. “No. I’m not going anywhere,” he said gently. “What I meant is… I finally understand what we were really fighting.”

Yuma blinked. “Then… what was it?”

Ray took a step toward the dark orb, his voice low, contemplative. “A shadow. A fragment of lingering energy left behind after Don Thousands defeat–pieces of the Barian Emperors. And this one… it was my shadow.”

The orb pulsed as he approached, responding to his presence. “I can feel it,” Ray continued. “The power I once held… back when I was a Barian. It’s calling to me—even now.”

Yuma took a cautious step forward. “Ray…?”

“It’s okay, Yuma,” Ray assured, glancing back with a small smile. “I’ve faced my shadow. I’m not running from it anymore.”

He extended a hand—and the orb moved, dissolving into tendrils of energy that coiled around him before merging into his chest with a quiet flash. The air was still for a moment. Then Ray opened his eyes—brighter, clearer, glowing faintly with renewed power. “These abilities… they’re mine again,” he said. “I’ve awakened to my Barian self. And I have a feeling we’re going to need this strength in the days ahead.”
He turned fully to Yuma now, his tone shifting—lighter, but full of purpose. “So… what do you say to us bringing back the Barian Cosmic Crime Unit?”

Chapter Text

"Yuma, you better have a damn good reason for calling at this hour..."

Shark’s groggy voice crackled through the earpiece of Yuma’s Duel Gazer, his image flickering to life on the holographic screen. He looked more or less the same, despite the years that had passed—same spiky purple hair, same intense, deep-blue eyes. But time hadn't stood completely still. Shark had shot up in height, his lean frame now towering compared to Yuma and Ray, both of whom still hadn’t grown much past their teenage years. Not that the difference was obvious over a call like this.

“Are you sure this can’t wait until morning?” Shark asked, rubbing his eyes.

Yuma lay in his bed—a rare sight in and of itself. Normally, he preferred the hammock in the attic. But tonight, he’d made good on his promise to stay by Ray’s side, hoping it might bring his friend a bit of peace after everything that had happened. And, truthfully, because he was worried. Their recent battle had taken its toll. Both of them were bruised and battered, but Ray had been the one to face the shadow of himself—literally. The emotional and physical strain must have been overwhelming. He’d collapsed the moment they got back to Yuma’s house, and now lay beside him, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, finally at rest.

Yuma’s eyes kept drifting to Ray’s still form. Seeing him breathing—alive—was a small comfort. But unease twisted in his gut. The duel had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. He’d placed his trust in Ray—and it had been the right call. They’d come back together. But that return had come with an added twist. Ray had regained his Barian powers and that was the part that scared Yuma most. Yet this wasn’t like before—no hidden schemes, no illusions. Something fundamental had shifted. If Ray could regain his powers, then what about the others? What about the rest of the Barian Emperors?

That was why he’d called Shark. Because the impossible wasn’t just possible anymore—it was happening. No one had expected this. After all their battles, after the Barians were reborn as humans, it should’ve been over. But now... it felt like the essence of the Barians had never really left. And considering how much chaos that shadow version of Vector had nearly unleashed, there was no telling what might come next. “Yuma?”

Shark’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Yuma said, eyes snapping back to the screen. “I just... I needed to talk to you. It’s about the Barians.”

“The Barians?” Shark repeated, sitting up straighter. “You’re serious? Yuma, we’re all human now.”

“I know, but... Ray’s changed. He’s become a Barian again.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So he’s double-crossed us?” Shark’s voice had sharpened.

“No! He hasn’t done anything,” Yuma shot back, more defensive than he meant to be—but he understood. Shark hadn’t completely let go of the past.

“It happened after we dueled a shadow version of Vector,” he explained, quieter now. “Ray... he was able to reabsorb his Barian essence.”

"Reabsorb his Barian essence?"

A new voice entered the conversation, calm but unmistakably serious. Dumon stepped into view, his signature spiky silver-gray hair catching the soft light of the room. He stood behind Shark, eyes focused sharply on the holographic screen, one lens of his glasses glinting with Duel Gazer tech. “I didn’t mean to be loud and wake you—” Shark began, turning slightly.

“You didn’t,” Dumon interrupted, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion. “I noticed you weren’t in bed and when I heard you talking from the other room, I figured it had to be something important.”

Shark gave a small nod as Dumon settled beside him. The two exchanged a brief, wordless understanding before their attention returned fully to Yuma, who now looked more anxious than ever. He quickly began to recount everything—from the start of the duel to Ray rejoining with his Barian essence. His voice partially trembled with unease as he spoke, there were still too many gaps in the story, too many things even he couldn’t explain…

Dumon’s brows furrowed as he tried to piece it all together. “So the presence is felt even in human form before the Shadow of our essence manifests?”

Yuma nodded grimly. “Yeah. And when it does, it’s bad. Real bad.”

He turned his gaze to Shark next, voice firm. “You have to warn the other Barian Emperors. If these essences are left to act on their own, they’re going to cause serious damage.”
Shark leaned back, exhaling slowly as the weight of it all sank in. “I’ll get in touch with Rio. Dumon will reach out to Mizar.” Then, after a beat, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But don’t Girag and Alito go to your university, Yuma?”

“I could probably talk to Girag…” Yuma started, but his voice trailed off as his thoughts drifted—inevitably—to Alito.

The pause hung in the air like a weight. Shark exhaling heavily. “Still avoiding Alito so you don’t risk running into Kotori?” His tone was sharper than he probably meant it to be. “Yuma, what’s got you so torn up over that breakup?”

Dumon shot him a glance, a subtle but pointed look that said, That was a bit much.

Shark softened his tone. “You and Kotori were close. You used to be really good friends.”

Yuma didn’t respond right away. He stared off-screen, his expression crumpling just enough to betray what he was holding in. Dumon was about to gently steer the conversation away when Yuma finally spoke. “...I hurt her.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yuma, people get hurt in relationships,” Shark replied, his voice quieter now. “They all come with highs and lows. That’s normal.”

“Not like I did…” Yuma’s voice cracked under the weight of the words. The guilt, raw and lingering, sat heavy in his chest.

He knew how deeply Kotori had loved him. Maybe she still did. And honestly, they could have been happy—there was no denying she had been a great partner, supportive and kind. But the truth was... Yuma wasn’t sure he had been right for her. Not after what he’d done.

That one moment—slipping up and saying a name that wasn’t hers—had unraveled everything. Kotori had seen the truth in that slip before he’d even understood it himself. And ever since, Yuma had been tormented by a question he couldn’t answer: had he truly loved her... or had he just been trying to fill the void left by someone he thought he could never have?

He couldn’t risk the potential fact that he was pretending. Couldn’t keep hurting her by staying in a relationship that potential felt like the safer choice. So he ended it—for her sake. Because she deserved someone who loved her without hesitation or confusion.

Kotori had moved on quickly to Alito. That fact stung, even if Yuma wouldn’t admit it aloud. But what hurt more was that he hadn’t moved at all. He hadn’t chased the person whose name he’d spoken. He hadn’t confessed. Hadn’t done anything—just sat with the silence, wondering if he’d made the right call... or thrown away the one chance at real happiness for someone who might never be his.

“Yuma, I find it hard to believe you could ever hurt anyone—at least not on purpose,” Shark said plainly, as if that should be enough to settle it.

But the words fell flat. Yuma didn’t look reassured. If anything, they only seemed to deepen the ache twisting in his chest. “...It’s not like you were picturing someone else when you were alone toget—”

A sharp jolt of pain had cut Shark off mid-sentence. Dumon had elbowed him, hard. His expression didn’t shift much, but the message was clear. He’d seen the way Yuma's face had crumpled the moment Shark opened his mouth. Yuma looked like he was about to shatter. "We appreciate the heads-up about the Barian shadow essences," Dumon said smoothly, steering the conversation away before more damage could be done.

“Dumon—?” Shark began.

“—We’ll keep you updated on our end, Yuma. Try to get some rest. Good night.”

The call ended abruptly. Shark blinked at the now-dark screen, clearly caught off guard. But Dumon had done what needed to be done—cut the conversation before it cracked Yuma open any further. As for Yuma, silence fell again but this time far deeper. Yuma lay in the dark, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on him. There was no peace in that quiet—just guilt, confusion, and loneliness circling like storm clouds.

Then, movement.

He felt the shift beside him before he fully registered it—Ray, still asleep, instinctively reaching out. A hand found his arm. Then, Ray’s head gently pressed against Yuma’s chest, his breath slow and steady. Even in sleep, he seemed to sense Yuma’s turmoil, offering silent comfort without a word. Yuma blinked, caught between surprise and something else—something warm and aching.

With a quiet sigh, he reached up and slowly removed his Duel Gazer, setting it aside on the nightstand. His eyes lingered on Ray’s sleeping face. Part of him wanted to lean in, to sink into that offered comfort completely. But another part of him—hesitant, unsure—and forced him to hold back.

Still, after a long pause, he allowed himself one small gesture. Yuma taking a moment to wrap an arm gently around Ray, holding him in place—not tightly, but enough. Just enough.

And finally, after everything, he let his eyes close. He wasn’t sure if it was peace. But it was enough to rest.

Chapter Text

Despite how awkward the phone call had ended, Yuma’s sleep had been surprisingly peaceful. No tossing, no dreams—just a deep, uninterrupted void until morning crept in. A gentle breeze slipped through the half-open window, carrying with it the soft chorus of birdsong. Yuma stirred, fingers twitching slightly as they curled into the fabric beneath him. Without thinking, he nuzzled into it, inhaling a familiar scent that nearly lulled him back into sleep. The warmth surrounding him was inviting as well, nearly convincing him to stay wrapped in its comfort. But his consciousness inevitably caught up, tugging at him until his red eyes fluttered open. At first, the world was a blur—shapes and colors smudged together—until clarity struck all at once. Sensations of panic registering with sudden urgency.

The soft fabric in his grasp wasn’t his blanket. It was Ray’s shirt. And the scent that had comforted him? Undeniably Ray’s. At some point during the night, Yuma had shifted closer—much closer—until he was nearly tangled up with his friend. His eyes widened in alarm, heat rushing to his face. In a blind panic, he jerked back, only to lose his balance and tumble off the bed with a loud thud. The sound jolted Ray awake who shifted to gaze over the edge of the bed. “Ahh… Yuma? Are you okay?” he asked groggily. “Did I… kick you or something?”

Yuma, still stunned and beet-red, could hardly process the words. His embarrassment had practically short-circuited his brain. “Yuma…?” Ray asked again, concern creeping into his voice.

Yuma quickly shook his head, trying to reset himself. “Ah—no! I’m fine. Just had a dream I was falling and, well… I guess I actually fell,” he lied, forcing a chuckle. “Silly, huh? You’d think I’d be over those kinds of dreams by now.”

Ray blinked a few times, then gave a soft laugh, seemingly convinced. “Well, as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m definitely okay. A-okay—” Yuma began, trying to brush off the situation.

“You’re not gonna be okay if you’re late for school, Yuma.”

Akari’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at her brother with practiced disapproval. “You’re in university now, Yuma. Sleeping in doesn’t get you a detention anymore—it gets you a fail. Didn’t you have a test today?”

Panic hit Yuma like a lightning bolt. “Oh no!!! That’s right! And I didn’t even study! What time is it!?” He sprang into motion, flailing around his room in a frenzy, muttering a list of everything he hadn’t done—notes not reviewed, alarms not set, clothes not ready—as he struggled to yank his shirt over his head.

Akari simply rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “Try not to trip over yourself,” she muttered as she walked away.

Ray, still half-sitting in bed and blinking sleep from his eyes, looked on with a puzzled expression. “I don’t get it, Yuma. What are you freaking out about?”

Yuma whipped around, halfway through putting on his pants and nearly tripping in the process. “Don’t you get it, Ray? I overslept! I’m gonna miss the test—I’m doomed!—”

“But you won’t,” Ray cut in calmly, finally standing up and stretching. “Now that I’ve got my Barian powers back, I can open a portal straight to the university. Right to your class, even. It’s not the thrilling Ray Way... but it’ll get you there on time.”

Yuma froze mid-panic. Slowly, the realization sank in. “Wait... you can do that?”

Ray offered a simple nod as Yuma beamed with delight. “Ray, you’re a lifesaver! Seriously, you just saved my GPA—and probably my life!”

“You can thank me when you’re there,” Ray said with a half-smile, already tugging on his jacket. “Now hurry up—unless you want to portal in like that.”

Yuma didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to gather his things, darting between drawers and the bathroom with the energy of someone clinging desperately to the last threads of being on time. Ray worked in tandem, though his pace was more casual—he hadn’t brought much, after all. Staying over had been a spur-of-the-moment decision given the situation, and he made a mental note to prepare better next time. Not that it was hard to travel now—not with his Barian powers restored. Still… it wasn’t just convenience that had him thinking. As Yuma stumbled out of the bathroom toothbrush in hand, Ray paused. “Hey, Yuma… would it be too much to ask if I stayed here for a while?”

Yuma blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?” His brows furrowed—not out of annoyance, but surprise. The question felt sudden.

Ray, however, quickly explained. “With the threat of the Shadow Barians, I think it’s better if we’re in the same place. Less risk, fewer surprises. If something happens, we’re not scrambling to find each other. We can act fast—together.”

Yuma processed it for a moment before nodding. “I don’t see a problem with that. I’ll let Grandma and Akari know to prepare more food.”

Ray respond with his own nod of appreciation. “Then I’ll grab some essentials after school before meeting you at your place. But for now…” He said, raising his hand.

Particles shimmered into existence, spiraling into the glowing core of a portal. The air buzzed—charged with a hum that was both alien and familiar. It had been a long time since Ray had felt this power surge through him, yet it responded as if no time had passed. Effortless. Natural. Comforting, even and he welcomed it. This power afterall wasn’t just useful—it was necessary. Not just to make the little things in life easier, but for protecting Yuma.

Yuma slung his bag over one shoulder and stepped closer, eyes wide with urgency. “Let’s go. I’ve got a test score to somehow save!”

Ray grinned and together, they stepped into the portal. Light bent. Colours warped. And in a blink, the world reshaped into the familiar hum of campus life. They didn’t materialize in the middle of the chaos, of course. Ray had chosen an empty classroom, just far enough from the rush to avoid attention but close enough for Yuma to make a quick dash. They could hear voices echoing faintly from the hallway beyond but Yuma’s focus was on the clock, panic creeping back into his expression. “Thanks. I hate to just abandon you like this, but if I’m even a minute late—”

Ray waved him off with a smile. “Good luck, Yuma. You’ve got this.”

Yuma grinned, relief flashing in his eyes as he gave Ray the thumbs up. “I’m gonna owe you big time. Seriously. Just name it!” Yuma said.

Then, with a hurried wave, he slipped into the hall and disappeared into the flow of students.

Ray lingered a moment longer, watching the door. They’d see each other soon enough. For now, he had time—and an objective. There were questions still swirling from the night before and now seemed as good as any time to start off with some good old fashion sleuthing. Ray, wanted to observe the other former Barian Emperors to see if anything had changed on their end and luckily for him there happened to be a few who attended the university. And so he made for the door opening it to the halled and closing it behind him before sliding his hands into his pockets but as he turned he nearly collided with someone.

Kotori.

She stiffened slightly as their eyes met. Whatever she’d been about to say caught in her throat, and for a beat, they just stood there for a moment longer than what was natural. “Were you and Yuma…?” Her voice was quiet, uncertain. Not accusing, but not exactly casual either. She waved the rest of the sentence away before it could fully form. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

But even still Ray caught the flicker in her expression. Not anger. Just… something unspoken. Unresolved. He blinked, confused. “Whoa, hey—there’s nothing going on between me and Yuma! Yuma was just late for class, so I brought him here. That’s all.”

Kotori gave a small, almost polite nod. “Of course.”

She looked away, but not before he noticed the tension in her shoulders. Something about the way she was avoiding his gaze made the air feel heavier than it should have. Ray hesitated, unsure if he should say more. As far as he knew, she and Yuma had drifted apart—amicably, even. No fights. No drama. But now, he wasn’t so sure. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking a softer approach.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly. A little too quickly to the point another awkward silence fell before she managed to find her words. “Just surprised to see you here with him, that’s all.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant. But something about her tone just now… ‘Just surprised to see you here with him, that’s all.’ It landed oddly and it made him frown. That kind of comment might make sense if he and Yuma were strangers—or even acquaintances—but they weren’t. They were close friends. So what was surprising about them showing up together? It didn’t add up. Not to him, at least. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe… he was missing something.

She cleared her throat and tucked a strand of hair green hair behind her ear—out of nervousness perhaps. “Anyway… I should get going. I’ve got class.”

Ray stepped aside, watching as she brushed past him. Yet, just before she disappeared down the hall, she glanced back. “Take care of him, okay?”

The words were simple. Casual, almost. But something in her voice lingered. A quiet ache, buried deep. Ray only frowned slightly, puzzled by the whole encounter but he nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

With that, Kotori vanished down the hallway, leaving Ray alone once more—though far from at ease. He stood in the quiet that followed, replaying the strange exchange in his mind. It wasn’t the first odd moment lately. Just yesterday, Bronk had bolted out of the nurse’s office right after dropping off Yuma—barely engaging with Ray before rushing off with a vague excuse about practice. Sure, it could’ve been urgent. But there had been something in the way Bronk practically pushed Yuma’s care on Ray that didn’t sit right.

Now, with Kotori’s strange reaction layered on top of that, Ray couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone knew something he didn’t.

Something…but what?

Was Yuma also hiding something from him? And if so…why? Had Ray done something to lose his trust? Ray released a sigh, trying to push the thoughts aside. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe it was all just coincidence. Still, that nagging doubt clung to him. Forcing him to give his head a shake before redirecting his focus. There were more pressing matters to deal with—namely, keeping an eye on the other former Barian Emperors to see if their Shadows manifested as well. Whatever was going on with Yuma… he’d figure it out in time.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Yuma!”

Bronk’s familiar voice cut through the post-test haze just as Yuma stepped out of the classroom, mentally drained and feeling like he'd just survived a small war. He hadn’t been nearly as prepared as he wanted to be—and with everything that went down yesterday, he couldn’t exactly blame himself. Still, excuses didn’t change grades and he shouldn’t have saved the studying to cram the night before. At this point, all he could do was pray to the test gods and hope for a miracle. Yet, he was forced to shake off the looming cloud of regret and force a smile as he spotted his friend. “Hey, Bronk.”

“How’s the head holding up?” Bronk asked, falling into step beside him.

“Other than test brain? Not bad,” Yuma replied, giving a half-hearted thumbs up.

“Glad to hear it!” Bronk said with a grin, glancing casually around the hall before slinging an arm around Yuma’s shoulder and pulling him in like they were co-conspirators. His voice dropped to a not-so-subtle whisper. “Sooo… how’d it go last night?”

Yuma blinked, confused. “What do you mean, how’d it go? I went home. I dueled. I slept. Then I woke up. Took a test. Now I’m here?”

Bronk gave him a flat look. “I mean with R… to the A… to the Y…”

Yuma just stared, utterly lost. “What?”

“With Ray, man!” Bronk finally blurted out.

A few students glanced over at the sudden volume shift but Bronk waved them off with an exaggerated grin. “Nothing to see here! Move along, folks!”

Once the coast was clear, he turned back, eyes gleaming. “Come on, I basically gift-wrapped that opportunity for you, Yuma. You were hurt, I strategically exited the nurse’s office, and Ray was there to take you home...” Bronk said trying to clue Yuma into where he was going with this.

Yuma stared at him, still not following. “Okay… and?”

Bronk groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Yuma, seriously? You’re killing me here…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bronk!” Yuma flailed, his arms doing half the talking.

Before Bronk could respond, a familiar voice cut in— “What are we talking about?”

Bronk nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around to find none other than Ray, standing a few steps behind them, head tilted and eyebrows raised in polite confusion. “R–RAY?!” Bronk blurted, voice cracking just slightly. “I mean—Yuma’s test! Yeah! We were just talking about how totally brutal that test was, right Yuma?” He slapped a hand on Yuma’s back, grinning way too wide.

Yuma let out a startled gasp as Bronk’s heavy hand thudded against his back—hard enough to knock the wind out of him and send a sharp jolt of pain down his spine. He stumbled forward, coughing, while Ray just blinked at Bronk, puzzled. “...But you don’t even share that class with Yuma,” Ray said slowly, clearly trying to piece things together.

Still catching his breath, Yuma squinted at Bronk, more confused than ever. “What? No, you weren’t. You were asking me about last—”

Before he could finish, Bronk lunged, slapping a hand over Yuma’s mouth. “Ixnay on the Ray,” Bronk hissed through clenched teeth.

Yuma yanked the hand free with an indignant grunt. “You’re the one who brought him up! And if you wanted to talk about that night, you could just ask Ray!”

Ray stared at the two of them like they’d both grown second heads. “Is… something going on?”

“Nope!” Bronk blurted, too quickly. “Nothing weird here! Just… test talk. Very serious academic stress. Totally normal. Super classified.”

Ray arched a skeptical brow. “Academics are classified now?”

“No! Pfft, what? Who said that?” Bronk laughed nervously eyes shifting as he tried to wave it off. “You misheard.”

Ray gave him a long, flat look. “Pretty sure you just said it.”

Yuma, still baffled, looked back and forth between them. “Why is this even a secret conversation? Ray just stayed over.”

Bronk looked utterly defeated. How could Yuma be this clueless? Especially when it was painfully obvious—to Bronk, at least—that his friend had some type of feelings for Ray. But maybe he was the one reading too much into it–but the signs were surely still there. Yuma definitely had a crush. And after everything with Tori… wasn’t it about time he moved on? At least Bronk thought so. He was only trying to help, even if Yuma had no idea what was going on. Yet with Ray standing right there, Bronk couldn’t exactly spell it out without risking serious embarrassment for his friend. If Yuma was going to confess, it had to come from him—not from Bronk blurting it out like some awkward middleman. Still, this whole thing was already teetering on disaster. And right on cue, as if summoned by chaos itself, a fourth voice cut in: “What’s apparently a secret?”

Rio’s long blue hair bounced as she strode toward the group, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. Ray glanced over and shrugged. “Apparently me staying over at Yuma’s house,” he said, completely unfazed.

Rio stopped beside them, arms crossed. “Why would that be a secret?” she asked, turning a pointed look on Yuma.

“I don’t know!” Yuma threw up his hands in exasperation. “Ask Bronk! I’m just as confused as everyone else!”

But then his expression shifted—his hands dropped, his brow furrowed. “Wait… Rio. Did Shark talk to you?”

“That’s why I’m here,” she said with a small nod. “I wanted to hear and see for myself.”

Her dark pink eyes flicked around the area—students nearby were having conversations and buzzing about—before landing back on the group with a more serious edge. “Can we talk somewhere more private?” she asked, her voice quieter now as she acknowledged potentially flexing Barian powers in the middle of school wasn't exactly subtle nor was it remotely smart.

Everyone else seeming to be on the same page—everyone except Bronk, who blinked at Yuma in disbelief. “Wait… Yuma, you told Rio about last night—but not me?” Bronk asked, his voice thick with hurt.

“I did tell you!” Yuma replied, exasperated. “You were the one being cryptic about it, I said I dueled last night!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair long black hair, already drained. “And for the record, I didn’t tell Rio. I asked Shark.”

“You told Shark, too?” Bronk echoed, now looking genuinely left out—and completely misunderstanding the situation. His shoulders slumped. “I just figured… if you started dating someone… I’d be the first to know.” He muttered the last part like it stung to say it.

Yuma recoiled. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” His voice cracked across the hall loud enough to make heads turn. A few students slowed, clearly trying to eavesdrop. “The duel wasn’t a date!”

Rio looked between them, brows raised. “Is this a bad time? Should I… come back later? This feels personal.”

Yuma sighed hard and shook his head. “No. Let’s just discuss what happened yesterday.”

Ray cleared his throat gently moving to offer a suggestion to steer the situation back on track. “There’s probably an empty classroom we can use—maybe even the one we used discretly earlier.”

With a shared nod, the trio turned to leave, their focus finally shifting back to the real threat at hand—while Bronk trailed behind, his thoughts still tangled in confusion and hurt. It took a few tries, scanning doors along one of the quieter upper levels of Heartland University's sprawling campus, before they finally found an unused lecture hall. The sensor-locked door hissed softly as it slid open, and the four stepped inside, the panel sealing shut behind them with a quiet click.

The room was wide and amphitheater-like, with tiered seating that curved toward a sleek, raised platform at the front. Rows of glowing desk surfaces shimmered faintly with standby-mode holographic displays, waiting to be activated. A massive interactive screen spanned the wall behind the podium. The soft hum of environmental filters and concealed tech systems providing the space with a constant, low-frequency buzz.

Clean lines and cool-toned panels gave the room a minimalist, high-tech feel—metallic trims accented with smooth polymer walls. The light filtering through the polarized windows shifted colors subtly with the time of day, casting a pale blue tint across the space at the current time of their arrival. Yuma was the first to settle in as he climbed up onto the edge of the presentation platform, sitting on one of the built-in console’s table. While Rio leaned against the front-row railing, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Ray on the otherhand chose to remain standing, posted just beside the podium, hands tucked into the pockets of his signature black jacket–a style he hadn’t given up even now as young adulthood. Bronk as the last to stumble in dropped into a reclining lecture seat a few rows up, still reeling, his thoughts looping through the moments prior. But as the conversation started, and Yuma began to recount the previous night, Bronk finally began to piece the truth together.

Yuma going into the account of how Ray had sensed an unusual presence—how they’d followed it and come face to face with a Shadow version of Vector. And how the duel that followed had been brutal, but in the end, they had won the day with Utopia. For which afterwards, Ray had been able to reclaim his powers as a Barian by absorbing the essence.

While it wasn’t Rio’s first time hearing the story as her brother had filled her in, hearing it now directly from Yuma and Ray helped to paint a clearer picture. As well as add more weight than a secondhand account could offer and she nodded slowly, processing every detail as they took turns speaking. “It feels so surreal…” she murmured, her voice quiet beneath the room’s hum. She leaned back against the railing, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. “It’s been five years… and now suddenly, shadow versions of our Barian selves are manifesting… Why now?”

The group fell silent at the remark, the weight of it settling over them like a heavy fog. None of them had an answer—perhaps they’d all quietly assumed that the chaos and thrill of their youth had ended with growing up, their extraordinary pasts fading into the background as they transitioned into the quieter responsibilities of early adulthood. Though still students, not yet tethered fully to the workforce or life’s harshest routines, a certain normalcy had crept in. The days of duels that decided the fate of worlds felt almost like a dream—something from a different lifetime. But now, with the impossible looming before them once more, the silence lingered, thick with questions none of them had the answers for.

Rio was the first to break this silence as she stepped forward, her voice cutting through the haze. “I want to see it. Show me that your Barian powers have returned.”

It wasn’t doubt that drove her—no, she believed them. But part of her needed to see, to feel the truth settle in her bones. Maybe if Ray used his powers, it would make this surreal moment real. Ray slowly pulled his hands from his coat pockets and gave a small nod. “Go... Barian Battle Morph.”

The air cracked with energy. Light shimmered around Ray’s form, warping reality as he transformed from the familiar human boy they’d grown to trust over the past five years into something far more alien—far more dangerous. His true self.

Vector.

His form twisted into that of the Barian Emperor—skin shifting to grey and black accented in pink gems, purple eyes glowing with mischief and malice. Orange hair shifting to that of a light grey as black demoic wings decorated in the similar pinks gems extended from his back. His typical short dark gray sarong decorated by pink gems around the waist the only clothe attire now dawned. Yet he held the same black and gray boots accented in the expected pink gems as well as two arm pieces similarly adorn with the colours and gems. His appearance confirming what they already knew, this was Vector… The same terrifying Barian who had burned many traumatic memories into their minds. “Tadaa~ It’s me, Vector!” he announced with a wink, his voice lilting with exaggerated cheer.

The group flinched—just for a second—but it was enough. Like a shared hallucination, memories surged back. Vector’s mocking laughter. The manipulation. The betrayal. The battles. Rio’s fists clenched at her sides, though she kept her expression calm. This was the face of the one she’d met her end too–the one who ended her life as Marin, defeating both her and Dumon without mercy in a high stakes duel. Something not easily forgotten.

Bronk himself tensed now beside Yuma, instinctively stepping closer to his friend. He didn’t understand all the intricacies of Ray’s identity, but he knew how hard Vector’s betrayal had hit Yuma—how deeply it had scarred him. And seeing Ray as Vector once more stirred feelings within Bronk, ones that made him uncertain if Ray could be trusted anymore, not when every reminder of his Barian self brought pain.

Vector’s grin faltered as he caught the unease in their faces. He let out a laugh, weaker this time. “You should see your faces!”

And then, mercifully, his demeanor softened, shifting back into something closer to the Ray they remembered—awkward and boyish. “...I couldn’t help it—just for old times’ sake.”

But Yuma wasn’t laughing.

He looked like he might collapse, his eyes wide, breath caught in his throat as panic set in. “Don’t—don’t scare me like that, Ray!” he shouted, flailing his arms in frustration.

His heart pounded. He couldn’t stop the flood of dread. The thought of Ray falling back into Vector’s manipulative cruelty... or worse—disappearing again, lost to the Barian World or to darkness—was unbearable. Even though it had been five years, Yuma was back in that moment of so long ago, feeling as if he’d only just his friend back. And feeling that way just affirmed in Yuma’s mind that he couldn’t lose Ray again. Not when his feelings were still so tangled—so real.

“I’m sorry, Yuma…” Vector—Ray—said gently, the glow in his purple eyes dimming with sincerity as he looked at his friend.

But the silence that followed was heavy, thick with memories and unspoken fears. The group didn’t move, didn’t speak. Trust, once shattered so violently, wasn’t something easily rebuilt. They had all convinced themselves they had come to terms with their pasts. That the wounds had healed but now, staring directly into the face of the one who had once torn their world apart, the pain resurfaced—raw, real, and too close.

And out of all of them, Yuma was unraveling the most.

Last night’s encounter with Vector’s shadow had already shaken him to the core. Even though Ray had returned with him, the fear hadn’t left. And now, seeing Ray fully become Vector again—even if just for a moment—sent every alarm in Yuma’s heart blaring. His chest tightened. His stomach twisted. That same terrible thought crept in again like poison as one thought surfaced in Yuma’s mind, ‘What if I lose him again?’

Not just to the darkness. Not just to the enemy. But to the part of him that once chose cruelty. That once chose to hurt the people Yuma loved. The thought of Ray vanishing again—of being swallowed up by Vector, or worse, by the Don Thousand—was too much.

Something inside Yuma broke loose.

Before he could stop himself, Yuma rushed forward. No logic, no hesitation—just emotion. He threw his arms around the Barian in front of him, clutching him tightly like a lifeline, his fists gripping tightly to Vector. “...Please…” Yuma choked out, his voice raw and cracking. Tears welled in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks as his body trembled. “Please tell me things will be different this time. That I won’t have to watch you disappear again. That I won't have to fight you… again.”

The weight of everything—the loss, the fear, the hope—came crashing down all at once. Vector’s eyes widened in surprise, his usual smugness faltering completely. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Then, slowly, he moved. His arms wrapping around Yuma’s frame, a tenderness foreign to what they had known this Barian form to be.

Without a word, he let the transformation fade. The Barian form melting away, revealing the boy they remembered—Ray. Just Ray. He held Yuma close, his voice low, steady. “...Yuma,” he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. I promise.”

And this time, Ray meant it. Every word. But even a promise couldn’t silence the turmoil in Yuma’s heart.

Ray could feel Yuma clinging to him desperately, his grip tight and unrelenting—like letting go would mean losing him forever. His frame trembled, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the tears still hot against Ray’s chest. Ray all the while holding him steady, trying his best to soothe the storm of emotion swirling within his friend, even as two familiar voices broke through the silence. “Look, Ray,” Bronk said sharply, arms crossed and eyes hard. “If you ever hurt Yuma again—you’re gonna have to answer to me.”

“And me as well,” Rio added, her voice cool but resolute, her dark pink eye’s gaze burning with quiet fury.

Ray didn’t blame them.

He deserved their caution, their suspicion. After everything he’d done as Vector, their protectiveness over Yuma was earned. And if he were in their place, he might’ve said the same. Still, their warnings stung—if only because he had no intention of betraying that trust again. Not this time. The idea of double-crossing them—of hurting Yuma—wasn’t even on the table. It hadn’t been for a long time. They were allies now and really good friends. But seeing Yuma like this, wrecked and terrified... it hit harder than any of their words. Leaving Ray wondering if maybe five years wasn’t long enough, that maybe the wounds he left behind never really healed.

He tightened his embrace slightly, steadying Yuma without a word, letting Yuma take the time he needed. Yet when Yuma finally began to pull away, it was with visible hesitation, his fingers lingering on Ray’s sleeve staying close, as if afraid that distance alone might be enough to break the fragile thread keeping them connected. “Sorry…” Yuma mumbled, his voice still shaky. “I’m—”

But he never got to finish. A chime cut through the tension—an incoming call from duel gazer’s interface. Startled, Yuma pulled back further, quickly swiping at his face to wipe away any trace of tears before equipping they duel gazer. With forced composure, he activated the call, the others gathering around as they equipped their own duel gazers to listen in.

A familiar figure flickered into view on the holographic screen—Shark, eyes serious, tone urgent. “Oh, Yuma, good. I’ve got something urgent.”

“Hello, brother,” Rio said coolly, catching her brother off guard.

Shark blinked in surprise. “Rio? You’re there too?”

“And I’m here too!” Bronk added brightly—only to be promptly ignored as Shark’s focus zeroed in on Yuma.

“There’s something you need to know,” Shark said, tone shifting into urgency. “Dumon’s been trying to reach Mizar, but there’s been no response. It might be nothing—but with Ray’s Barian powers returning, you’re the only one who can get to him quickly if something IS wrong.”

Yuma straightened, nodding. “Just tell me where.”

“I’ll send you the coordinates to Mizar’s dorm now,” Shark replied. “Can I count on you to check in on him? This isn’t like him at all.”

“You can trust me,” Yuma said firmly. “We’ll head over right away.”

“Good, keep me posted. Dumon and I will meet you there as soon as we can.”

With that, the call ended, the holographic screen fading into static light. A heavy silence followed, but it wasn’t the same as before. This one was laced with purpose—urgency. The mystery surrounding the shadow Barians seemingly deepening, and now, with Mizar’s silence added to the equation they were likely connected. And so the next phase had begun. Yet none of them could shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

The departure from their own school campus had been swift—barely a flicker of motion, thanks to Ray’s Barian magic. One moment, they were standing in the discreet classroom they’d been using as a temporary base of operations and then next, the air shimmered with light as the portal flared to life, and the space around them unraveled. In an instant, the modest room was gone, replaced by the breathtaking sight of one–if not the most elite institutions in Heartland City.

Towering above the skyline like a monument to ambition and intellect, Heartland Elite Academy of Sciences & Duel Arts—HEASDA—shimmered in the golden afternoon light. The central spire, known simply as The Obelisk, pierced the clouds with sleek, mirrored alloy and panels of obsidian glass. Glowing lines of circuitry pulsing faintly across its surface like veins of energy as holographic banners streamed overhead, shifting seamlessly between the academy crest—a stylized Duel Disk entwined with a spiral galaxy—and animated announcements welcoming new minds to its halls.

Students moved through the vast courtyard below, some lounging as they reviewed notes, others rushing across curved paths to make their next class. To the side, one building towered with ancient gravitas, its glass walls revealing shelves containing books, some even on that of dueling and its history. Another thrummed with the low-frequency hum of energy fields—a duel simulation complex running quantum-class duel scenarios in real time.

Everything about the academy—its scale, its silence, even the faint scent of ozone and flora—felt engineered for brilliance. It was a place designed not just to teach, but to forge. And overhead, a massive holographic sky-map stretched across the open air, displaying in real-time projection of the cosmos. The stars moving slowly across the firmament, synced to a planetary observatory at the edge of campus. Planets, moons, and constellations twinkled in precise motion. A beautiful sight if not a bit overwhelming.

“This is... next level,” Bronk muttered under his breath, gaze bouncing between the buildings.

“That’s an understatement,” Rio added, crossing her arms while being unable to hide the hint of awe in her voice.

Even Ray, who had known of HEASDA’s prestige, looked quietly impressed. “I knew it was elite... but I didn’t expect it to feel like another world.”

Yuma, for once, had no immediate quip. He just stared, wide-eyed, his usual loud energy momentarily quieted as the scale of the academy hit him all at once. Yet, perhaps their gaze would be better suited from a different vantage point given they had intentionally portalled in just outside the dormitories, hoping to avoid drawing attention. And so one by one, they slipped out from the low shrubs bordering the plaza and made their way toward the dormitory complex.

The building loomed ahead: the Stellar Hall—a towering prism of silver alloy and sky-blue glass that shimmered like a star frozen in time. Unlike the rigid vertical rise of the other buildings, the Stellar Hall spiraled outward as it climbed, like a rotating galaxy frozen mid-spin.

Its surface glowed with countless points of light—tiny, ever-shifting constellations mapped to the real starfield above Heartland City. Even in daylight, they flickered gently, creating a calming, almost dreamlike atmosphere. And as the group crept closer, the entrance revealed itself: a broad arch framed by crystalline columns, each etched with swirling sigils. While above the arch, floating text moved in a slow, graceful scroll: “For those who dwell among the stars, discipline is the gravity that holds them steady.”

Students passed through in quiet clusters and as they approached, a discreet scan from their Duel Disks or ID badges triggered the glass doors to open with a quiet hiss. The group waiting for the right moment before slipping in behind one such group before the doors closed. To be greeted by the atrium as it opened up around them. Floor panels of polished obsidian reflecting the soft overhead lighting, which adjusted subtly in hue to match the time of day. Clean lines, brushed metal finishes, and soft ambient glows created an atmosphere that felt more like an orbital observatory than a student dorm.

They stood in silence, glancing around—taking it all in. “This place is insane,” Yuma finally said, low and awed.

Rio nodded slowly. “They really don’t do things halfway here,” she agreed.

But they had a purpose, they were here after all to locate Mizar and so Yuma took lead as he made his way toward the sleek front desk. A digital display hovering just above it, that displayed a rotating map of Stellar Hall’s interior. A soft chime sounded as the desk’s assistant approached from a backroom. “Welcome to Stellar Hall. How may I assist you?”

Yuma cleared his throat, trying to sound casual—though his voice had a slight edge of urgency. “We’re looking for a student, Mizar. Light blonde hair, with a wing shaped extension, calculative blue eyes, red markings–He’s... kind of hard to miss.”

The desk attendant nodded meeting the group’s gaze. “Are you checking in as registered guests?” the attendant asked, pulling up a digital log of expected arrivals to receive visitor passes.

The group froze. Right. Of course. Yuma glanced at Bronk, then at Rio. The realization hit all three of them at the same time: they had definitely not gone through any official channels. “Well this isn’t good…” Bronk muttered quietly, scratching the back of his head as he remained unsure how to proceed.

“We didn’t exactly come through the front gate,” Rio added under her breath, stating the obvious irony of their circumstances.

They were off the books—teleported in via Ray’s Barian magic without an access code, visitor ID, or even a solid excuse. And since Mizar hadn’t been answering any calls or messages, so they couldn’t rely on him to vouch for them or speak on their behalf. They were stuck. At least, that’s what Yuma thought—until he heard a soft, deliberate click beside him. His head turned sharply to see Ray opening his deck box. The newly reinstated Barian’s expression was calm, but his purple eyes held a focused intensity as he slid a single card free from the stack. Yuma catching the familiar shimmer of the Barians’ signature card under the light. “Ray—” Yuma began, but trailed off as the card was presented before the attendant lighting up briefly in Ray’s hand.

There was a subtle shift as the desk attendant’s eyes glazed over, their body relaxing into a compliant, vacant posture. Ray’s voice, when he spoke, was smooth and deliberate. “We require scan clearance for dorm access. Room number. Keycard.”

There was no hesitation. Under the influence of the Barian spell, the attendant complied without question—fingers gliding across the console as a new card materialized from a secure dispenser slot. A number flashed briefly in the air: Level 9, Room 04A—a private suite in the tower’s upper tier. Reserved for only the highest-ranking students. Ray slipped the Barian card back into his deck with a practiced motion and before releasing the attendant from his influence. “Thank you so much for your help!” Ray exclaimed in a cheerful and pleasant manner as if nothing had happened, making sure to nab the keycard off the desk.

As the spell lifted the attendant blinked slowly, looking a little disoriented. “You’re welcome, I think?” they said, blinking several more times again in confusion from the absent memories of what had been discussed.

Ray turned to the group with his usual bright, placid smile. “All set.”

Yuma stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed. While Bronk shifted uncomfortably himself, and even Rio gave Ray a sharp look as the group began to walk away. “You just Barian-hypnotized someone,” she said flatly under her breath, likely scolding Ray despite the necessity given their situation.

“I did,” Ray replied, still smiling innocently. “Discreetly, though and there was no harm done.”

“You could’ve at least warned us,” Yuma muttered, still a bit rattled.

“I guess I was just thinking in the moment,” Ray responded, rubbing the back of his head and laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, Yuma but any time we waste could cost Mizar if something is wrong.”

That seemed to be enough to silence both Yuma and Rio on the matter and as much as the display had unnerved them, none of them could argue with the reasoning or the sincerity behind Ray’s voice. After all, if Mizar was in trouble, if something had gone wrong—they’d have to act fast. And right now, Ray was the only one who could cut through the red tape to get them to their ally. Yuma let out a slow breath as he nodded. “Alright, let’s get moving!”

Now armed with the keycard, the group made their way deeper into Stellar Hall, stepping into a sleek, glass-paneled elevator that hummed quietly as it ascended. None of them spoke as the floors ticked by, noting the further up they went, the more the atmosphere changed. The walls became sleeker, the lighting softer, and the hallway floors gleamed with clean, high-tech polish that seemed untouched by foot traffic. This wasn’t just the upper floor—it was an entirely different tier of student life.

The elevator came to a gentle stop on Level 9, the highest level for student residences and as they stepped out, the hallway curved gracefully along the outer edge of the building, offering a panoramic view of the city skyline through tall glass panes. The silence was heavier here—not cold, but reverent, as if the very walls recognized the kind of people who lived up here. “This is unreal,” Bronk whispered, eyes wide.

“It’s like a luxury hotel... crossed with a space observatory,” Rio added, her tone somewhere between impressed and bewildered.

The group pressed out of the elevator, barely pausing before locating the correct door near the far end of the corridor. Mizar’s dorm sat slightly recessed from the others, nestled in a quiet alcove that gave it an almost ceremonial presence. There was no nameplate—only a glowing sigil hovering above the entry: the unmistakable outline of a dragon, stylized and coiled in celestial rings.

Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his obsession, is he…” Bronk muttered, folding his arms.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rio chimed in, though even she sounded slightly impressed.

Yuma stepped forward from the group, staring up at the glowing emblem. His usual energy softening with a kind of awe. “Man… it’d be so cool to have something like this for Utopia!” He exclaimed turning to Ray, a wide grin lighting up his face. “What about you? Wouldn’t it be awesome to have one for Masquerade?”

Ray smiled brightly, eyes still fixed on the sigil. “I definitely wouldn’t say no.”

Yuma nodded, then looked back to the door, voice lowering slightly. “He really is something else here, huh? A part of me thought—” he hesitated, then pushed forward, “I worried you guys might not adjust and settle in to human life. I mean after being Barians and everything.”

Yuma glanced back at Rio and Ray, sincerity softening his usual energetic tone.. “I know things weren’t always easy between all of us–and with you guys being Barians and all… But I always hoped...that you’d get the chance to just live. Be happy. And seeing this? I think Mizar’s really starting to figure that out.”

Rio gave a small smile, adding with a knowing look, “It certainly helped that my brother and I already had some experience living as humans,” she remarked matter of factly.

Ray however remained quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful—far from dismissive. Then, in his steady, calm tone, he said, “And I had you, Yuma.”

Yuma’s eyes widened, a sudden heat rushing to his cheeks causing him to stumble over his words as you attempt to play off his embarrassment, “Ahh… It was nothing!” His words came out a little too quickly, too nervously—an awkward attempt to mask the warmth blooming inside.

But Ray wasn’t done. His voice softened, genuine appreciation threading through every word. “It wasn’t just nothing, Yuma. I mean it. You’ve been… really incredible to me. More than I deserve.”

There was a flicker in Ray’s eyes—something almost shy, almost vulnerable—like he, too, felt the awkward weight of their unspoken connection. Yuma swallowed hard, heart pounding fiercely in his chest, caught somewhere between embarrassment and a warmth he couldn’t quite name. All the while Ray’s calm smile lingered at least for a moment longer, quietly savoring Yuma’s reaction, before he turned his attention back to the hallway. “...Though if I had to guess…rooms like this are likely only assigned to top-tier, independently recognized students,” Ray said, shifting the subject with practiced ease as he stepped closer to stand beside Yuma.

The simple proximity of Ray only seemed to amplify the heat rising in Yuma’s cheeks—far more than he liked. His red eyes flicked sideways, stealing glances he hoped went unnoticed. He clenched his fists, willing himself to breathe steady and act normal, but the flutter of nerves refused to subside. Maybe he’d been staring a little too long—more than he should have—but Ray made no sign that he noticed or minded. “And even then,” Ray continued, voice calm but earnest, “They’re customized—designed to match the student’s abilities, temperament, and needs. For Mizar to receive something like this...”

“He must’ve impressed the academy big time,” Bronk finished, eyes still sweeping the polished hallway.

Yuma, finally rallying, stepped forward as he managed to overcome his embarrassment to rejoin the moment or at least play it off. “That’s so totally cool!” Yuma exclaimed, stepping fully towards the door and knocking just out of common respect. “Mizar? Hey—it’s us.”

Silence.

He waited another moment, then glanced back. Ray stepping up to the plate, holding the keycard between two fingers. “Allow me.”

A soft chime sounded as the card slid into the reader. The door hissed open and the moment they stepped inside, the air changed. The suite’s entry opened into a wide, circular space—dim, quiet, and bathed in an otherworldly glow. But it was the sky above them that stole their breath. A dome of shifting starlight stretched across the ceiling—a living map of constellations spiraling in slow, deliberate motion. But they weren’t familiar patterns. These were Barian constellations, ancient and alien, their shapes both haunting and beautiful. Each one moved in a rhythm that suggested an unfamiliar cosmic logic—silent echoes of a galaxy far removed from Earth. And at the center of it all, etched in spectral light, hovered a ghostly figure—Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon, wings unfurled, suspended mid-flight above the room like a guardian made of stars. “Whoa...” Yuma breathed.

Bronk’s jaw had gone slack. “And I thought your room was cool, Yuma. This is a whole other level.”

The walls were a deep metallic black, pulsing faintly with Barian sigils that shifted slowly like distant waves of energy. The air felt still, but not lifeless—controlled, deliberate. This was a place meant for focus, study and strategy. Yuma stepped forward slowly, casting a glance around but there was no sign of Mizar. No scattered cards or paper, no coat draped over a chair–even the bed wasn’t untucked. Nothing to indicate where he might have gone—or why he wasn’t answering. If anything nothing had been touched and it seemed as if he’d only stepped out for a few moments.

Ray’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the room with a more critical gaze. “We should start looking for signs, surely something’s not right.”

The others exchanged quick nods, fanning out across the room in search of any subtle clues—anything to hint at what had happened, or where Mizar might’ve gone. Minutes dragged by as they combed every corner, every panel, and surface. But they kept coming up empty. Bronk finally slumping into the sleek chair at Mizar’s desk, shoulders heavy with frustration–defeated.
“Yuma, I don’t think we’re gonna find anything here. This place is spotless.”

“It’s like he vanished without a trace,” Rio murmured, brow furrowed.

Yuma rubbed the back of his neck, tension creeping back into his chest. “But if that’s the case… how are we supposed to find him? We’ll never cover the whole city in time—”

A sudden chime echoed through the room. The door hissed open with a soft hydraulic sigh, drawing all eyes to the threshold. And there he was. Mizar stood tall in the doorway, framed by the shifting starlight of his suite. His expression was unreadable at first—composed as always—but the slight notion of surprise flickered in his sharp blue eyes gave him away. “Yuma.”

“Guys, it’s Mizar—he’s okay!” Yuma blurted, a wave of relief crashing through his chest.

“Of course I am okay,” Mizar replied evenly, stepping inside without hesitation.

“Dumon said he couldn’t reach you,” Rio noted with a skeptical glance. “And you’ve never been the type to go rogue.” Her gaze briefly flicked to Ray, who smirked without comment.

Mizar raised an eyebrow at the accusation before presenting his Duel Gazer with a slight flourish. “Your human technology does not compare to Barian World’s superior systems. This device’s failure to accept or transmit communication is not my doing. I just returned from having it repaired—a minor inconvenience,” the Galaxay Eyes Master explained.

Even five years later, Mizar’s disdain for human’s and their limitations still lingered beneath the surface. In some ways, that pride had only found more room to flourish within the elite structure of HEASDA. The academic arena suited him—and besting humans at their own game had become yet another battlefield for his competitive nature. “So we were all freaking out… because your Duel Gazer broke?” Yuma asked, somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.

“Correct. But I will see now to contacting Dumon personally and—”

Mizar froze mid-sentence. A flicker ran through his body like static. His confident posture faltered, his head turning sharply as though he'd sensed a sudden shift in gravity itself. His blye eyes widening, and for the briefest moment, a tremor passed through him. Ray’s expression only sharpened from Mizar’s shift as Yuma’s heart dropped. They’d experienced this before. Just last night. “Mizar?” Yuma stepped forward, cautious now.

Mizar’s voice was low, confused. “That can’t be…”

His gaze drifted upward, unfocused—as if something beyond the walls of his room had reached out and brushed his very core. The air turned colder. The lights in the dome dimmed ever so slightly. Something was coming. Or worse—something familiar had already arrived.

Mizar stood perfectly still—his sharp mind already connecting the dots, while his sharp blue eyes narrowed in to land on Yuma. “This presence... it’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Yuma nodded grimly, launching into a rapid but clear retelling of the night before, the confrontation with Vector’s Shadow–and the unsettling similarities of the moment leading up to the encounter. As he spoke, Mizar listened with unnerving stillness. Like Rio before him, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. But where she had shown concern, Mizar’s reaction was something else entirely. Not fear. Not even caution. Intrigue. And under that... excitement.

It was no secret to anyone in the room that Mizar had always been a prideful Barian. Even now, five years into life as a human, that sharp edge of superiority still clung to him. The idea of facing a copy—one that possibly retained his former power—seemed less like a threat and more like an invitation. He stepped forward slowly, his posture straightening with renewed confidence. “Finally... a real challenge.”

His eyes gleamed. “I am the one and only Master of Galaxy-Eyes. To duel myself... now that would be a worthy opponent.”

Despite his crushing defeat at the hands of Kite five years ago, Mizar’s confidence hadn’t dulled in the slightest. If anything, it had sharpened. He stood tall, every word and movement radiating unshakable belief in his superiority—both as a duelist and as a former Barian. There was something admirable in it, Yuma had to admit. That refusal to give in. That relentless pride. In a way, it was... inspiring.

But behind his smile, Yuma couldn’t help but worry. Was Mizar truly ready to face a shadow version of himself… Yuma and Ray had barely come out of their own encounter with the Shadow of Vector, and the memory of it was still burned fresh in his mind. Yet, he knew better than to try to talk or take Mizar’s battle from him for the that matter. After all, that wasn’t how any of this worked. The duel had to be his—and Mizar seemed more than determined to tackle it head-on.

Yuma clenched a fist, determination rising to meet the moment.“Then we’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines!” he said, his voice brimming with conviction.

Rio stepped forward as well, her gaze sharp but thoughtful. “I’m coming too. If my Shadow self is going to manifests like yours did, I want to be ready. Seeing this duel firsthand might give me the edge I’ll need.”

Ray’s calm voice chimed in next with a spark of energy. “Then what are we waiting for? Mizar’s shadow isn’t going to defeat itself after all.”

The energy in the room shifted once again—no longer tense, but sharpened, focused. Whatever lay ahead, they were no longer uncertain. They would face it together. With their resolve united, the five of them made their way out of Stellar Hall, only to find the world already beginning to warp. The moment they stepped beyond the threshold, a dense, unnatural fog began to roll in across the campus grounds—eerily familiar, identical to the haze from the night before. But this time, it was worse. The sky overhead, which had only minutes ago glowed with the afternoon sun, had darkened to pitch black. A false night cloaked the academy snuffing out all and creating a heavy feeling of something being wrong.

And waiting at the center of it all was him.

Mizar’s shadow stood tall in the courtyard—unmoving, statuesque, and unmistakably inhuman. He towered like a forgotten deity, his alien mask-like face unreadable beneath piercing blue eyes that glowed with cold judgment. A curved, wing-like extension jutting from the left side of his head–the trademark style of Mizar.

Yellow skin gleamed, a long bronze coloured sarong with white was inlaid with green gems fastened around his waist. His white boots and arm guards striking like polished bone, adorned with gemmed accents, while his broad, horned shoulders made him appear even more formidable. His long blond hair swept behind him, and at the center of his chest hung his Barian emblem—a caduceus-like insignia, gleaming like a brand of royalty. His tall stature looming mencingly making him not just a shadow…but the Barian version of Mizar in all his former glory and he stood waiting.

The real Mizar stepped forward, his Duel Disk already sliding into position with practiced grace. His voice cutting through the silence—calm, unshaken, electric and with purpose. “So you’re the one I must face to reclaim my Barian powers… and prove, once and for all, that I am the true Master of Galaxy-Eyes.”

No hesitation. No fear.

Only resolve.

Unlike Vector’s shadow, Mizar’s dark counterpart said nothing—eerily silent, like a storm just before it breaks. Its presence alone was suffocating, a heavy force pressing down on them. The creature’s glowing blue eyes drifted past Mizar, settling on the group behind him. On Yuma. Too long. The gaze lingered, and then—without warning—it raised one hand. Crimson Barian energy surging violently into the air, cracking like thunder as an orb of pure chaos energy began to take shape. All four reacting in shocked unison. But it was Ray who moved first, faster than thought. Chaos energy, red and familiar, flaring around him as he threw himself in front of the group. It was the same power he’d used to hold back Don Thousand—raw, focused, and brave. A barrier of his Chaos magic shimmered to life between the group and the blast. And it might’ve held—maybe—if he’d had more time, or if the force behind the attack wasn’t so monstrous…

Rio’s heart dropped as the energy crackled louder, brighter. “Ray’s shield—it's not going to hold!” she shouted, her voice edged with rising fear and without hesitation, she dove aside.

Bronnk himself scrambled hitting the ground to roll out of range just in time. But Yuma didn’t follow. “YUMA, NO!” Rio cried, her voice cracking in horror.

Yuma sprinted forward instead—straight toward Ray. There was no thought, only instinct. No hesitation, only the fierce need to protect. Ray barely had time to consider a retreat before Yuma collided into him, arms tightening around his waist as the blast shattered through the barrier. The force sent them flying causing them to hit the ground hard, Yuma twisting midair to shield Ray with his own body as Ray landed with a choked gasp, the air knocked from his lungs. Yuma letting out a groan as they struck the earth from the impact jarring, but he held on—one arm curled tightly around Ray, sheltering him.

“Yuma…!” Ray's voice trembled.

His purple eyes had widened filled with alarm as he struggled to push himself up, turning over to check Yuma’s face. His breath came in sharp, panicked bursts. “Are you hurt?” he asked hoarsely, his hands already skimming over Yuma’s arms and shoulders.

Yuma winced, then shook his head, offering a reassuring smile despite the sting of the fall. “Just a few scratches,” he replied, a little breathless but alive.

Ray exhaled shakily, his hand still pressed to Yuma’s shoulder. He didn’t move it right away. His touch lingered—quiet, grounding. It wasn’t just concern. There was something gentler there, something that made Yuma’s heart stutter.

Ray looked like he wanted to say more, like the words were on the edge of his lips. But instead, he just nodded, his gaze softening as he helped Yuma up. Keeping his hand on Yuma’s shoulder, once more the touch lingering a second longer than necessary, as if making sure Yuma was really okay. There was a tenderness to it. Quiet and reassuring, that made Yuma’s cheeks flush a little–unable to deny the fact that he liked the idea of Ray fussing over him.

Behind them, Rio and Bronk finally reached the two, panting and wide-eyed. “You idiot,” Rio snapped, though her voice cracked at the end. “What were you thinking pulling a stunt like that?!”

Bronk nodded, eyes sharp with worry. “Yeah Yuma! What were you thinking, running straight into that?!”

Yuma didn’t answer right away, his gaze was still on Ray. “…I wasn’t,” Yuma said finally, softly. “I just… couldn’t...”

Rio blinked, and Bronk looked between the two of them, realization slowly dawning. No one said anything for a moment, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with understanding. Nearby, Mizar gave a faint look of disapproval as his eyes narrowed on the Shadow version of himself. “What was the point of that?” he asked coolly, as if the ambush had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

The Shadow finally spoke—its voice a hollow echo of Mizar’s, warped and distorted. “To ensure no one interrupted.”

With that, it raised its other hand. A black, jagged object materialized—its surface pulsing with a core of chaotic red light. A Barian Sphere Cube. Twisted. Corrupted. The Shadow tossed it high into the air. “I activate a Barian Sphere Field.”

With a low hum, the cube unraveled midair. A crimson dome of energy erupted outward, threatening to swallow both Mizar and his Shadow in a pulse of spiraling light. The ground cracked beneath their feet as the air warped violently. And yet, Mizar didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the field with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes locked on his other self. “This should be interesting.”

Even as a human—and even knowing the risk of injury to such an inferior form—Mizar never hesitated. Never wavered. Pride wasn’t just a flaw for him; it was his fire, his identity, his essence, his purpose. It burned in his blood, steady and unyielding. Now, standing within the pulsing crimson glow of the Barian Sphere Field, he was poised to confront the very shadow of himself. His stance was steady. His eyes, ablaze. Then—just as he stepped forward to begin the duel—a voice sliced through the tension like lightning. “I’m taking this fight on too.”

It was sharp. Familiar. Impossible.

“Co-coming in for a la-la-landing!” came a squawking mechanical voice overhead, immediately followed by the whine and screech of thrusters firing.

A sleek shape dropped from the sky—fluid, practiced—detaching mid-air from the metallic blur of Orbital 7, who sputtered behind like a frantic, flailing jetpack. The poor robot crashing down with a metallic clunk, spinning briefly on impact before groaning in protest. But the figure who landed with quiet precision was unmistakable.

Kite Tenjo.

Cool, composed, and unflinching, Kite straightened to his full height. His Duel Disk was already snapped into place on his arm. “Kite?!” Yuma gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief and sudden emotion. His red eyes went wide as he stumbled a step forward, caught between confusion and relief. “You—you got my message? But you haven’t answered me in days!”

He didn’t say it out loud, but the truth stung—he’d been left on read. Not a call. Not a response. Not even a “seen” notification after Yuma had tried to contact him the night before. And yet—here he was. Kite didn’t immediately respond. His gaze remained fixed on the swirling red sphere ahead, cool and unreadable. But the fact that he’d shown up at all—now, at this exact moment—said more than any reply ever could. Mizar, however, didn’t share Yuma’s astonishment or enthusiam. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head with just a hint of annoyance. “This is my duel,” he snapped. “This is my shadow.”

Kite finally reacted turning his icy blue eyes meeting Mizar’s evenly. “You’re not the only one with a score to settle.”

Mizar’s composed demeanor faltered as a sharp scowl overtook his features. Irritation rolled off him in waves, his lip curling as if preparing to snap—but the Shadow version of himself acted first. Without hesitation, the Barian Shadow extended a hand—and in a flash of red energy, Kite was pulled into the Sphere Field, the arena adjusting around them to accommodate the new challenger. Mizar’s gaze narrowed to icy slits. “This battle doesn’t concern you.” His tone was frigid, even though it was clear he would no have to duel with his rival.

Kite met his glare without flinching. “Every battle concerns me when a Galaxy-Eyes is involved. And if my memory serves me... you didn’t exactly come out on top the last time you faced my Galaxy-Eyes.”

Mizar scoffed, stepping forward towards him, voice rising with pride. “That duel was years ago. I’ve evolved. I’m more than capable of handling this alone—”

“That’s yet to be proven,” Kite interrupted coolly.

Across the courtyard, Bronk couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Those two bicker like an old married couple.”

Rio raised a brow. “Don’t let them hear you say that—”

“Too late,” Ray murmured, just as both Mizar and Kite turned in perfect unison, fixing Bronk with matching death glares sharp enough to melt steel.

Mizar running a hand through his blonde hair before crossing his arms, imperious as ever and unbothered—on the surface. “Kite may be my greatest rival—but he could never hope to capture the full brilliance of a true Galaxy-Eyes Master.”

Kite didn’t flinch. “Good. I’m not here to capture anything. I’m here to duel.”

“Then our sentiments are the same. Just don’t get in my way.”

“Stay out of mine, and we won’t have any problems,” Kite snapped back, his Duel Disk flaring to life.

Yuma, watching from just beyond the edge of the Sphere Field, turning slowly to the others. His eyes were wide, somewhere between awe and alarm. “Guys… I think we should be more worried about them than the Shadow.”

No one disagreed, knowing full well if Mizar and Kite had any hope of winning this fight, it wouldn’t come down to raw power, rare cards or their large egos. It would come down to trust, teamwork and being able to put aside the pride that defined them—by facing the truth that neither could win this alone.

Inside the Sphere Field, the shadow of Mizar stirred. It was silent, but not still. Watching. Calculating. Waiting. Ready to strike at the first sign of weakness in their fragile alliance. And it would find one. The air vibrated with tension as the Barian Field pulsed red. “Then if you two are quite finished…” the shadow spoke at long last, its voice like a cold wind sweeping through the void, “Let us determine the true ruler of the Galaxy-Eyes.”

The Duel Disks activated in unison—three forces poised to collide and the real battle now beginning.

Chapter Text

From below the Barian Sphere Field, Yuma, Rio, and Bronk had equipped their Duel Gazers and fixed their attention skyward—eyes locked on the unfolding battle. Ray, on the other hand having recovered his Barian powers had only needed to shift his left eye to red to observe the shadow duel above.

“You guys got this!” Yuma shouted, thrusting a fist into the air with his usual energetic grin.

Kite didn’t respond. He rarely did in moments like this. He appreciated Yuma’s enthusiasm—but wouldn’t admit it, not now. His icy gaze never wavered, locked on their opponent: the shadow doppelgänger of Mizar, who stood poised for action. “Since this is a two-on-one duel, you two will share your life points–naturally,” the Shadow intoned, voice echoing with an eerie duality. “I’ll take the first move.”

No hesitation. No theatrics. Just cold calculation.

Yuma stiffened. The duel was already different from his own clash against Vector’s Shadow. This one was subtler, more strategic. The Shadow had forced Kite and Mizar to share Life Points—a move designed to put pressure on them both. If one faltered, they’d both fall. A terrifying truth as Yuma’s fists clenched at his sides. He believed in them—but their pride, their stubbornness… Could they truly fight side by side?

“I draw,” the Shadow announced, smoothly drawing his card.

He studied his hand with clinical precision. No emotion. No hesitation. Just an engine of strategy at work. “I summon Radius, the Half-Moon Dragon,” he declared, placing the monster onto his field. A purple dragon accent by white pieces reminiscent of a half moon manifested on the field as it registered on the duel disk.

“And now, I activate the Spell Card: Dragon King’s Demise.” His voice remained unnervingly calm. “By tributing Radius, all of us take 1400 damage.”

With a flash of light, Radius disintegrated into radiant energy—and that energy turned violent, erupting outward in a blast of light that struck all three duelists. In an instant, all Life Points dropped from 4000 to 2600. A rare, jarring move for a duel's opening turn.
Kite and Mizar were blasted backward, slamming hard into the interior wall of the Barian Sphere Cube. The moment their backs hit the surface, tendrils of red electricity lashed out—coursing through their bodies with brutal force. The electric field reacting to damage as it always had within the confines of the Sphere Cube. Only this time, there was no buffer for Mizar.
Kite grit his teeth as pain surged through him—but made no sound. Beside him, Mizar did the same, though his shoulders trembled under the initial shock despite how he locked his jaw in defiance. Even now, even as a human, he refused to yield and he pushed himself upright with a ragged breath before staggering back into his position like nothing had happened.

But something had happened and Kite had been the only one to noticed it.

Just for a second—there had been an almost imperceptible pause in Mizar’s movements. A flicker of discomfort in those blue eyes. He was feeling the damage in a way he never had before. As when Mizar had been a Barian, the Sphere Cube’s punishment was a nuisance at worst. However now it hurt. A truth that despite Mizar’s best attempts to hide had been noticed by his rival. Kite’s gaze lingering, subtle and unreadable as he remained silent. His expression as indifferent as ever—but beneath that stare, something sharp flickered. Concern? Maybe. Not that he’d admit it.

“You're slower than usual,” Kite said flatly, stepping back into place without looking directly at Mizar. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft now that you’re human.”

“Hmph,” Mizar scoffed, rolling his shoulders despite the lingering ache beneath his skin. “As if. This is nothing. I could do this all day.”

His voice was steady—borderline arrogant—but his hands curled just a little too tightly at his sides. The pain was real. But so was his pride. He wouldn't give Kite the satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.

From below, Rio, Bronk, Yuma, and Ray watched the duel unfold, their expressions tight with concern. The atmosphere inside the Barian Sphere Field already oppressive—but what worried them most was the shift in Mizar. Ray, ever sharp-eyed, was the first to voice what he—and Kite—had clearly already noticed. “…Mizar’s really feeling the effects of the Barian Sphere Cube,” he murmured, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t blame him,” Yuma added, the memory tightening his chest. “When I fought Mizar for the first time… Kite had to take over. The pain was unreal. It felt like being struck by lightning from the inside out.”

Rio folded her arms, her gaze still locked on the duel above. “Mizar’s spent most of his life as a Barian. I don’t think he ever truly understood how dangerous it is to duel like this as a human,” she stated

All four of them shared the same grim realization: Mizar was no longer the near-invulnerable Barian Emperor he once was. And yet, none of them believed for a second that he’d back down. That wasn’t who he was. For better or worse, both Mizar and Kite were cut from the same cloth—rivals with a set of prides sharper than any blade. They would push their bodies past every limit if it meant proving themselves… or protecting something. The only question was whether their strength would carry them to victory—or to collapse.

But down below, all they could do was watch… and hope. The duel had barely begun and yet the stakes already felt life-threatening. And the duel was indeed just beginning. The Shadow version of Mizar standing tall and unbothered by the damage he’d just taken. He didn’t even flinch as he waited calmly for his opponents regained their footing. “I hope you two didn’t find that too shocking,” the Shadow quipped, clearly amused by the effect of the attack.

Then, his voice lowered, steady and calculating as he began to play his next move. “My turn continues. I activate the effect of Nebula Dragon from my hand. By revealing it alongside my Level 8 Schwarzschild Limit Dragon, I can Special Summon them both in Defense Position.”

Two dragons appeared in a flash of light, as a the red serpentine dragon of Schwarszschild took form and the golden dragon of Nebula rose up. “I’ve now set the stage for what I think you both know is coming,” the Shadow said, a cruel glint in his eyes–as his set cards now registered on his Duel Disk. “I now overlay Level 8 Nebula Dragon and Level 8 Schwarzschild! With these two, I build the Overlay Network!”

A swirling vortex erupted in the air above him, crackling with cosmic energy. “Now appear in all your fearsome terror—Number 107: Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

From the swirling portal in the sky, a colossal dragon emerged. Its wings spread wide as it soared onto the field, letting out a thunderous cry—Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon had arrived. Despite the searing tension and the weight of the duel pressing down like gravity, neither Kite nor Mizar flinched. Kite the ever cocky Duelist only muttered a simple, “Is that all?” Hardly intimidated given his many battles against the true Mizar in the past and his prior victory at that.

“Hardly,” the Shadow of Mizar replied coldly. “With Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon on my field, I can now activate the Spell Card Galactic Charity! By discarding one card from my hand, I draw two new ones.”

The Shadow discarded effortlessly, drawing two cards in a single, fluid motion before sliding one into his Spell/Trap zone. “I set one card face-down and end my turn.”

Mizar stepped forward, his voice cutting through the air. “Now it’s my turn!”

He drew with sharp purpose, his blue eyes narrowing as a confident smirk formed. “Time to show you how a true Galaxy-Eyes Master duels.”

In one swift motion, Mizar placed a card onto his Duel Disk. “Rise Heliosphere Dragon! Next, I activate the Spell Rank-Up-Magic-The Seventh One! Prepare yourself… As I call forth a behemoth with the ability to bend time to do its will!”

Energy surged across the field as the space around them bent and warped. “Number 107: Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

Mizar’s dragon burst onto the field, a storm waiting to be unleashed. Yet he wasn’t finished. “With The Seventh One, I don’t need to overlay monsters—I can evolve Tachyon Dragon immediately! Now watch as I unleash the power of the Dragons!”

His voice echoed across the battlefield, thunderous with resolve. “Face the multiverse and ignite new life into my great beast—Chaos Number 107: Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

The original dragon roared as it soared into the swirling vortex above. Moments later re-emerging transformed—now a radiant, golden three-headed dragon, wings blazing with cosmic energy. It let out a cry that shook the very fabric of the duel. “With that…” Mizar said, lowering his Duel Disk slightly, eyes still locked on the Shadow. “I end my turn.”

Below, the group watched the duel unfold with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Bronk furrowed his brow, clearly confused by Mizar’s move. “I don’t get it… Why summon Heliosphere Dragon if he’s just gonna bring out Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon? It’s got zero attack points, and its effect only kicks in if there’s nothing else on his field. He’s leaving himself—and Kite—wide open!”

“Mizar’s no amateur,” Rio said calmly, her confidence unwavering. “He wouldn’t make a move like that without a plan.”

“But what kind of plan skips setting a card?” Bronk asked, still scratching his head.

Ray leaned forward, eyes sharp with realization. “It’s a team duel. He’s setting up for Kite. Heliosphere Dragon is probably a stepping stone—for his summon.”

Bronk blinked. “Wait—Mizar’s actually being a team player? For Kite?”

Yuma grinned, pumping a fist. “Way to go, Mizar! That’s what teamwork looks like!”

“Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon needs two tributes to summon,” Rio added, picking up where Ray left off. “And if Kite wants to bring out Neo Galaxy-Eyes after that, he’ll need two more monsters to overlay. Mizar’s making sure he has what he needs.”

A small scoff from above drew their attention. Kite’s voice echoed down coolly: “I didn’t need your help.”

But something in his tone—a barely-there pause—betrayed the faintest hint of appreciation he’d never admit. Mizar’s reply came quick and sharp. “I don’t plan on risking losing.”

“Jeez,” Bronk muttered, crossing his arms. “Would it kill him to just say thanks for once? His partner literally covered his back.”

Rio shook her head with a small smile. “You know that’s never been their style—especially not with each other.”

Their attention snapped back to the duel above as Kite raised his hand to draw.
“My turn. I draw!”

His icy blue and red eye–from his Photon Transformation–swept across his hand, lingering just long enough to form a strategy. A subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “I activate the Spell Card Photon Trade. By sending one Photon monster to the Graveyard, I get to draw two cards.”

He discarded a card smoothly and drew two more, giving a curt nod of approval. “Now I can Special Summon Photon Thrasher, since I control no monsters on my field.”

A burst of light exploded on the field as Thrasher appeared. “With him in play, I Summon Photon Crusher! And because I control at least one monster with over 2000 Attack Points, Overlay Booster joins the field as well.”

Energy surged around him as each monster materialized in sequence.

“Way to feel the flow, Kite!” Yuma shouted from below. “He’s got everything he needs!”

Kite wasted no time. “I tribute Mizar’s Heliosphere Dragon and my Overlay Booster! Now—Here comes a monster more savage than a supernova! With the cataclysmic force of ten black holes put together—a cosmic scourge that vaporizes anything in its path!”

He raised a glowing shuriken that formed in his hand and hurled it skyward. His monsters soared with it, their energies spiraling into a blinding core. “Come forth—Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon!”

A massive roar tore through the battlefield as Kite’s dragon exploded onto the field, radiating raw power. But he wasn’t done. “I now activate the Spell Card Upshift! With it, both Photon Thrasher and Photon Crusher become Level 8—matching my Galaxy-Eyes!”

The two monsters levels quickly changed to prepare for the next evolution stage. “Now,” Kite declared, voice sharp and unwavering, “I overlay Photon Thrasher, Photon Crusher, and Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon! With these three monsters, I build the Overlay Network—”

A black short spear, accent in red, materialized in Kite’s hand. He caught it effortlessly before hurling it skyward into the swirling vortex above. “—Prepare to witness the mightiest of monsters. With the power of this beast, the battle is over! Rise, Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon!”

A shadow tore through the portal above as Kite’s ultimate monster descended, crashing onto the field beside Mizar’s golden dragon. Where Mizar’s Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon gleamed with cosmic radiance, Kite’s dragon loomed darker—sleek, black, and wreathed in crimson energy. The two signature Galaxy-Eyes now hovering side by side in unison for the first time...

Kite seized this moment pointing towards the Shadow of Mizar, voice laced with challenge. “My dragon’s taking you down—and that’s a promise!”

As Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon let out a bone-rattling roar, Kite activated its effect. “When Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon is summoned, your Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon loses all of its special abilities. Go—Photon Howling!”

The attack’s cry echoed like a shockwave as the Shadow’s Tachyon Dragon recoiled under the howl. “And I’m not done,” Kite pressed on. “I use one Chaos Overlay Unit—causing your monster loses all of its overlay units. Then my dragon gains 500 ATK points for each one lost. That’s two Overlay Units gone as my Neo Galaxy-Eyes powers up by 1000!”

The beast’s energy surged, its attack rising from 4500 to 5500 in an instant. The air trembling with its fury.

Yet the Shadow version of Mizar remained expressionless, despite the undeniable threat. “Kite and Mizar totally got this one in the bag!” Yuma cheered, pumping his fist, unable to contain his excitement.

But as he watched the synchronized power of the two duelists unfold, a shadow of emotion flickered across his face. Part of him couldn’t help feeling just a little jealous—of how effortlessly this duel was coming together. Compared to his own brutal fight alongside Ray against the Shadow of Vector, this looked almost… easy. Still, that envy quickly gave way to relief. If they could finish this, it meant Kite and Mizar wouldn’t have to suffer the way he and Ray had. And in the end, that’s what mattered most.

Ray, standing beside him, gave a small nod. “Kite and Mizar might not show it, but they’re synced up perfectly now. That kind of coordination doesn’t come easy—not unless something deeper’s changed.”

Yuma paused, turning Ray’s words over in his head. He was right… Something had changed between those two. Maybe, in the five years since Don Thousands defeat, they'd grown closer—if not as friends, then at least as equals. After all, Mizar had honored Kite’s final request—delivering Number 100: Numeron Dragon to him for his duel with Don Thousand. And even though everyone lost had been brought back, the bond forged in that moment couldn’t have just vanished, right? Sure their rivalry was still as fiery as ever—constantly butting heads over who the true Galaxy-Eyes Master was—but now, it was layered with mutual respect. Trust. Even if neither of them would ever admit it out loud.

Rio’s eyes stayed fixed on the twin dragons blazing above them. “They’re not just fighting to prove who’s better anymore,” she said, her voice calm but steady. “They’re fighting side by side–both as Galaxy-Eyes Master in their own right. That’s what makes the difference.”

Bronk let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man… I never thought I’d see the day those two worked as a real team. They’re crushing it out there.”

Beside them, Orbital 7 buzzed and hovered into view, his metallic arms flailing ever so slightly. Perhaps, finally having recovered from his less pleasant landing. “Master Kite is operating at 110%! Synchronization efficiency between him and Mizar has reached optimal combat levels! Truly a most glorious alliance!” He paused, then lowered his voice a notch, as if unsure. “Although… does this mean I must now refer to Mizar as… ‘Subordinate Master Mizar’?”

Yuma blinked, trying not to laugh.

Ray, watching them with a knowing smile, turned to Yuma. “Man… they’re really having a better go at it than we did,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “We had to claw our way through our duel. But hey… maybe that gave them the insight they needed to win this.”

Yuma looked back up at the field—at Mizar’s radiant golden dragon and Kite’s black and crimson-tinged beast. Ray was right. Their own fight had been brutal. Hard-fought. The kind that left marks, even if no one could see them. But maybe that was the point. Because they’d survived, because they’d made it through together… they’d learned something. And now, they’d passed that hard-won knowledge onto their friends. So Mizar and Kite could have a better shot. A real chance to gain the upper hand in their own situation and win.

And now, with the stage set, Kite moved in for what they all hoped would be the decisive blow. “Now, obliterate his Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon—Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon, attack!” Kite commanded, voice sharp with focus.

“G-Go, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 cheered, pumping his tiny robotic limb in excitement.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. With Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon sitting at 3000 ATK, and Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon surging at 5500, the damage calculation was simple: 2500 points lost—dropping Shadow Mizar to a fragile 100 Life Points. But something was wrong. Mizar’s Shadow didn’t flinch. And then his voice split the air with a cold calm: “I activate the Quick-Play Spell Card—Galaxy Surge. By targeting my Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon I can boost its attack by 500 points. It should also be noted this card negates any face up monster from using their effects until the End Phase!”

“What’s the point?” Kite snapped, his attack still roaring forward. “You’re still going to lose your dragon—and take the hit.”

And he was right—Tachyon Dragon was obliterated, consumed by the surge of light from Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon. Blasting Shadow Mizar was backwards in response, his body thrown into the wall of the Barian Sphere where sparks of electricity erupted in turn. His 2600 lifepoints dropping to 1600–due to the fact Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon’s own effect had been negated now, thus its attack points dropped back to 4500. But as the attack subsided and his form slumped forward…there was a sinister gleam in those eyes. “...Something’s not right,” Ray said quietly, eyes narrowing.

Yuma’s heart skipped. “No kidding,” he muttered. “Mizar—shadow or not—he’d never let his Tachyon Dragon go down without a fight. I saw it when he battled Kite on the Moon. He protected his dragon–because Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon is a part of him…”

He trailed off, tension knotting in his gut. “This is bad—really bad.”

Rio and Bronk exchanged uneasy glances, while Orbital 7’s mechanical arms drooped slightly. None of them liked what they were sensing and they didn’t have to wait long to find out why. “...Thank you, Kite,” Shadow Mizar said softly—before his voice cracked like thunder.
“Because now… I can activate this! The trap card—Tachyon Chaos Hole!”

“Oh no—Master Kite!!” Orbital 7 cried.

“He wanted Tachyon destroyed on purpose…” Rio realized, her voice low with dread.
“...So he could banish Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon.”

“No one makes a fool of Master Kite like that!” Orbital 7 fumed, spinning erratically in the air.

For a moment, the light on the field dimmed—a subtle shadow crossing Kite’s face. It was only for an instant… but Mizar noticed. That flicker of frustration—not just at the loss of his dragon, but at being outplayed. But when Kite finally spoke, his voice was even, almost dismissive. “A minor setback. I end my turn.”

Mizar’s gaze lingered on Kite for a moment longer than necessary, blue eyes sharp. “Don’t let one move shake you, Kite,” he said coolly. “I expected better from the one who always claims to be the Master of Galaxy-Eyes.”

The words weren’t mocking, but they carried weight—a reminder, a challenge. Though, Kite didn’t respond, eyes fixed forward, calculating his next move, trying to steady himself for the storm coming in Shadow Mizar’s turn. Thanks to Tachyon Chaos hole, not only had Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon been banished, but the Shadow version of Mizar’s Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Draogn had returned to the field. “You underestimated me—your ‘Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon’ won’t save you now. I draw!” Shadow Mizar’s voice cut through the tension as he slid his hand over his deck, pulling a card with eerie calmness.

Satisfaction gleaming coldly in his blue eyes. As the true Galaxy-Eyes Master, this was the beginning of the end for the two who stood in his way “I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force!” Shadow Mizar declared with a dark smile.
“Ray! It’s that card again!” Yuma’s voice cracked with a mixture of surprise and dread.
Ray only gave a grave nod. Both of them knew exactly what was coming next. “I overlay Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon and rebuild the overlay network. Come forth… Chaos Number 107: Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!” Shadow Mizar’s voice rose, excitement mixing with malice. “But this Dragon comes back stronger—Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force adds an additional Chaos Overlay Unit!”
His Tachyon vanished into the swirling portal above, reappearing as a shadowy twin of Mizar’s own Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon. Letting out a fierce cry that echoed through the duel field, heralding its arrival.

“Now your end has finally arrived!” Shadow Mizar snarled, eyes blazing. “As there can only be one Galaxy-Eyes Master!--And now to make sure your partner can’t interfere, I activate Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s special ability: TIME TYRANT! All face-up card effects on the field are negated until the End Phase!”

His sinister expression widened. “Now, Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon, attack Kite directly! Ultimate Tachyon Spiral of Destruction!”

Yuma’s breath caught. “Oh no, Kite…”

“Ma-Master Kite!” Orbital 7 shrieked.

Rio’s eyes widened with worry, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are they really going to lose this duel?”

Bronk shifted uneasily, his confident facade cracking just a bit. “This... this doesn’t look good. Mizar and Kite have been unstoppable so far, but now…” His voice trailed off, the weight of uncertainty settling over them.

The atmosphere was thick with dread, every spectator holding their breath as the tide of battle threatened to sweep their allies away. But then—Kite’s voice cut through the darkness, firm and defiant. “I activate Photon Specter’s ability... Now it’s my turn to thank you—impostor,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You may be able to stop the effects of cards on the field, but this one activates from my graveyard. Photon Specter lets me bring back Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon!”

A pulse of light burst forth from the graveyard, and Kite smirked faintly—even now refusing to look rattled. “Sure, it returns with 1000 less ATK but that’s a small price I’ll gladly pay...to have my dragon back at my side. You should also know that for this turn my monster can’t be destroyed in battle!”

With a flash of brilliant energy, Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon returned to the field—its ATK now at 2000. And just in time, as Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s attack collided with his dragon. The impact striking Kite as he hurled backward, his body crashing into the energy barrier of the Barian Sphere Field. The sphere responded violently—red lightning arcing across his form like living whips of plasma, crackling and pulsing through his body. As his and Mizar’s Life Points dropped—2500 damage in total from 2600. They were down to just 100 now.

Kite didn’t cry out. He just… fell silent. He hung there, limp and suspended in the grip of the Barian Sphere Field, his body outlined in violent arcs of red lightning. His head slumped forward and his arms dangled motionless—like a marionette with its strings cut. “KITE!!!” Yuma’s voice tore through the stunned silence, raw with panic.

“N-No! M-Master Kite!!” Orbital 7 shrieked, his limbs flailing in dismay. “He’s not responding—he’s not moving!!”

“No way…” Bronk whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. “It... it can’t end like this…”

“Get up, Kite!” Yuma pleaded, fists clenched in desperation. “Come on, get up!”

Ray placed a steady hand on Yuma’s shoulder, grounding him as the fear swelled and holding a solemn expression.

“He’s going to get up… isn’t he?” Yuma turned toward his friend, voice cracking. “He has to... KITE!!” There was deep desperation in his voice now.

On the field, Mizar froze, his sharp blue gaze locking onto Kite’s body, scanning for the slightest movement—anything. But the only thing that greeted him was stillness and the voice of his Shadow from across the Barian Sphere Field. “He’s only delayed the inevitable,” Shadow Mizar said coolly. “But don’t worry. Come my next turn, you’ll be the next to fall.”

The turn ended—transitioning the the real Mizar’s turn–but Mizar didn’t start his turn. In this present moment, his usual commanding posture faltered, tension creeping into his frame. His gaze remaining locked on Kite, and his voice—usually edged with pride—lowered, softer. “...Kite?”

No response. Mizar’s jaw clenched and just briefly before he closed his eyes, the moment weighing heavier than he liked to admit. “...I’ll take it from here.”

With a nod his blue eyes reopened with determination as he turned, facing the darker mirror of himself. His tone sharpened, low and cutting. A deep breath—controlled, purposeful. Then: “You just made the biggest mistake of this duel.”

Mizar’s hand moved with renewed purpose, snapping toward his deck. “I draw!”

Chapter Text

The air hung heavy, almost suffocating, as Mizar drew his card. Every second stretched tighter, the tension winding like a coiled spring. His sharp blue eyes locked on the card in his hand. It was a decent draw—potentially powerful later—but not what he needed. And now was all that mattered.

His gaze flicked to the field, where his Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon hovered—proud, radiant, undefeated. Across from it, the Shadow’s identical version glared back, a perfect mirror. Both monsters bore the same attack power, locked in deadly balance. He could push into Battle Phase, but that meant mutual destruction. Though it might shake the Shadow’s momentum—yet, at what cost? Mizar froze. Even with everything on the line, he couldn’t risk losing his dragon for a slim chance.

This wasn’t just a card. Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon was a symbol–his pride, his soul—his answer. It wasn’t just the centerpiece of his deck it was the heart, his partner, forged through hardship and countless duels. To sacrifice it now? He couldn’t. But he knew how reckless that hesitation was—especially after Kite’s sacrifice, after everything his rival risked to keep them in the duel. This wasn’t the time to be selfish.

Still, the other side of the coin gnawed at him. Even if he forced the trade… what then? Their life points were a fragile 100. With only one monster each currently on their sides of the field respectively. And Kite? Still unmoving.

If he made the wrong move now—even if it felt bold, vengeful—it could cost them everything. Mizar exhaled through gritted teeth, the silence tightening like a noose. Guilt flickered. Fear? Concern? Maybe all three… His eyes could only snap back to where Kite hung suspended, motionless. Kite’s monster stood firm, refusing to fall just because its master seemed to have. And maybe because of that every fiber of Mizar’s being urged him to attack, to answer the Shadow’s cruel display with a blow of his own—to prove Kite’s fall hadn’t broken him, that he could finish this duel alone. But the cards didn’t care. They denied him the opening he needed to make and so the silence around Kite’s fallen form feel even heavier now.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Mizar placed a card onto his Duel Disk. “I set one card,” he said, voice low and steady. “That ends my turn.”

Across the field, Shadow Mizar smirked, feeding off the hesitation like a predator sensing weakness. "Not exactly the grand comeback your ally was counting on," he mocked, savoring every syllable.

Before the tension could fully settle again, a sudden roar tore through the silence—the unmistakable scream of an engine. A sleek, custom-designed motorcycle shot into view, soaring through the air before landing in a clean arc as it skidded to a halt near Yuma and the others, a cloud of dust rising in its wake. The two forms emerging from the motorcycle instantly recognizable as their presence cut through the chaos with immediate clarity.

“Shark!!” Yuma shouted, eyes wide, a spark of relief cracking through the fear in his voice.

Shark pulled off his helmet in one swift motion, his Duel Gazer already glowing over one eye. Beside him, Dumon removed his helmet more slowly, eyes scanning the field from behind his glasses with quiet precision—his gaze landing quickly on their target, Mizar.

“What’s happened?” Shark asked, voice cool but sharp as he strode up beside Yuma.

“It’s… it’s Kite,” Yuma said, voice tight. “He took a direct hit—in the Barian Sphere Field and hasn’t moved since…”

Orbital 7 figetted in place, circuits crackling with static. “Master Kite’s vitals are still registering—but he’s unresponsive!”

Shark’s expression hardened as his gaze rose to look at Kite’s limp form, still suspended in the crackling red energy of the Barian Sphere Field. His fists clenching at his sides. “Damn it…”

Dumon, meanwhile, hadn’t looked away from Mizar—not once. The dragon duelist stood alone in the chaos, muscles tense and every part of him locked in quiet fury. Even if his expression was stone, there were undeniable hints of tension. “He’s taking this harder than he’s letting on,” Dumon murmured, barely audible.

Rio moved towards her brother and Dumon, her gaze slowly following his. “Mizar?”

Dumon nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the field. “I know Mizar... He always keeps control, even when the odds are stacked against him. But this time…” His voice lowered, weighted with unease. “If Kite doesn’t get back up, I worry this duel will no longer be a strategic one.”

Shark couldn’t help but over hear their worries but still turned his attention back to Yuma, grim. “What are we up against?” He questioned.

Yuma hesitated, dread coiling in his chest. “Kite and Mizar are down to just 100 Life Points. It’s supposed to be Kite’s turn, but... he hasn’t moved since the last hit.”

Without missing a beat, Shark stepped forward. “Then I’ll take his place.”

His voice was calm, resolute. Not a suggestion—a declaration. Born not only of pride, but of an unspoken duty. A duty to his fellow Emperors–whether they were Barians any more or not... and his job as their once leader to support them in their time of need.

But Dumon’s hand shot out, catching Shark by the shoulder. “Wait, Nasch,” he said—quiet, but firm. “You’re strong… but we need to think this through logically.”

Shark’s glare flicked toward Dumon, sharp—but it softened almost immediately. He could see the concern behind Dumon’s eyes. This wasn’t about hesitation. Dumon wasn’t trying to stop someone from stepping in—he just wanted the right person to do it. Someone who could truly support Mizar—not just emotionally, but strategically. And before they could begin that discussion, Yuma had stepped forward. “Let me go in!”

Both Shark and Dumon turned to him, stunned. “Kite’s my friend—he’s always had my back. He’s taken my place in duels before, in situations just like this. I can’t just stand here while he’s down—I won’t!”

Now it was Ray’s turn to step in, shifting from his quiet state as a silent observe to step closer, concern written all over his face. “Yuma, I get it. Really. But you can’t rush in just because it feels right.”

“This isn’t just about feelings!” Yuma snapped back—his voice sharper than intended, resulting in some feelings of guilt for snapping on Ray. “It’s about standing up for the people you care about! You’d do the same!”

Ray met his gaze with a softness that held weight, untroubled by the tone Yuma had taken and understanding. “I would. That’s why I’m asking you to think before you act. Because we don’t know what happens if someone loses a duel to their Shadow…”

While Ray didn’t doubt Yuma’s skill, the situation was impossible to ignore. Mizar and Kite’s Life Points were hanging by a thread—just 100 left. Duels could always turn around, sure, but this one was on the edge of collapse. One misstep, one bad draw, and it could all fall apart. Thus, sending the wrong person in—someone whose deck couldn’t stabilize the field in that one critical turn—could be a fatal mistake. And that fear, the fear of losing Yuma to a poor card draw, was what made Ray hesitate.

He knew Yuma’s heart was in the right place—how fiercely he fought for his friends. And just like Yuma had once feared losing him, Ray now felt the same. If Yuma was the best option, Ray would support him completely… but if there was anyone more suited to take the risk, Ray would have rathered Yuma stay by his side, safe. And Dumon likely felt the same when it came to Nasch. His hesitation hadn’t just been strategic—it was personal. Watching Nasch, ready to throw himself into a dangerous duel likely wasn’t ideal for Dumon. Sure Dumon knew that Nasch was capable… but that didn’t make the risk any easier to accept.

But before anyone else could speak, a voice—strained, but unyielding—cut through the rising tension. “No one’s cutting in. I said… this is my duel.”

All eyes snapped to the Barian Sphere Field. There—Kite stirred. His body still hung, but his head lifted slowly, eyes glowing with determination—both his blue and red eye seemed to have a drive flickering back in them. “M-Master Kite!” Orbital 7 gasped. “You’re—you’re hurt! Let someone else take over!”

Kite’s voice, though rough, was unwavering. “No one’s stepping in. This is me and Mizar duel. IF anyone’s settling who the true Galaxy-Eyes Master is, it’s going to be us. And I still have a score to settle with this cheap imitation for banishing my dragon.”

“But Kite—” Yuma tried again, concern tightening his voice.

Kite’s expression hardened. “I said no, Yuma.” Kite snapped—not in anger, but with fierce resolve before he returned his gaze back to face the Shadow version of Mizar. “I’ve got this.”

Mizar, silent until now, exhaled quietly—just enough for Dumon to catch the relief of his fellow Emperor. A small smirk tugging at Mizar’s lips as he flicked some of his long blond hair back. “Hmph. About time. I thought I’d have to carry this duel on my own.”

Kite scoffed, the old fire back in his eyes. “Please. You wouldn’t last two turns without me.”

“I’ve lasted one so far,” Mizar shot back smoothly.

The spectators could only stare—relieved, but still tense. Yuma’s shoulders dropping slightly as Ray moved a hand on his shoulder to help ground him.

“That’s Kite for you…” Yuma murmured, half-smiling.

“Still stubborn,” Shark muttered, but there was no heat in it—only respect.

“Though he may be pushing too hard,” Ray commented softly.

Dumon nodded beside him. “But he’s not alone. And as long as Mizar’s still standing… neither of them will fall quietly.”

Their rivalry had reignited like a spark to dry powder—but beneath the sharp words and familiar fire, something else stirred. Trust. Respect. And a quiet vow—unspoken, but understood. Neither would face this darkness alone. The two Galaxy-Eyes Masters would stand together and see this through to the end–they had too. “It’s my move—I draw!” Kite declared, his voice sharper, steadier.

With a snap of his wrist, Kite drew his card. The motion was clean, precise and full of purpose. His confidence was back. Not loud, not arrogant—but steady. Resolved. “I activate the Spell Card: Galaxy Sacrifice,” he announced. “By tributing and banishing one monster—as well as paying half my Life Points—I can add a Spell Card from my Deck to my hand. Then, I can give the card to my partner.”

His hand hovered over his duel disk—briefly, reverently—before selecting his treasured dragon. “So, I say goodbye to Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon.”

The dragon dissolved into light, vanishing from the field. Below, the spectators only tensed. “What’s he doing?!” Bronk blurted, his eyes wide. “He just gave up Galaxy-Eyes—for a card?!”

The others were just as thrown. “Kite must really believe this card is worth it,” Rio murmured, brows furrowed. “Especially with Shadow Mizar’s turn coming next… but still, that’s still a huge risk.”

Yuma clenched his hands into fists. “Kite’s smart. I trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Or his brain’s scrambled from the Barian Sphere Field,” Bronk muttered under his breath.

“Ho-How dare you!” Orbital 7 sputtered, circuits flaring. “Master Kite can function at 200% capacity—even while unconscious!”

Rio placed a calming hand on Orbital’s shoulder. “We know, Orbital. That’s why we’re trusting him,” she said softly, trying to calm the poor robot’s distress.

Orbital 7 finally settled back into place, allowing the group below to refocus as the duel unfolded above. For a moment, even Mizar seemed stunned. His eyes widened—just slightly—as he registered what Kite had done. He’d sacrificed his Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon. No hesitation. No theatrics. Just cold, calculated resolve. A stark contrast to Mizar himself—who earlier had refused to risk his own Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon. Yet, Kite in that moment, had shown the kind of boldness Mizar hadn’t. The willingness to carry the weight of sacrifice if it meant victory.

Even so Mizar had caught Kite’s small reaction—just a flicker. That subtle shift in his rival’s eyes. The pain of letting go. The silent echo of losing yet another Galaxy-Eyes, following the loss of Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon before it. Yet he buried that pain beneath, unflinching focus as his Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon faded from the field and he braced himself for the drop of life points. The small amount of 100 being dropped swiftly to the razor-thin 50. The pain hit, sharp—but he stayed standing, teeth gritted, unwavering. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the card—the one he had risked it all for. With a sharp motion, he threw it to the side where Mizar stood, who inturn caught it effortlessly.

“Now,” Kite continued, “I set one monster in Defense Mode and end my turn.” He concluded placing the card as his move precise and final.

Across the field, the Shadow of Mizar let out a low chuckle. He hadn’t interrupted once during Kite’s turn. Not because he couldn’t—but because he didn’t need to. His confidence radiated through the sphere field like poison. “What a waste of your so-called comeback,” the Shadow sneered. “You’ve only delayed the inevitable. And that card you gave your partner–you can’t even guarantee you’ll survive this turn for him to even play it!”

He placed his hand on his deck, eyes gleaming with cold malice. “Now... brace yourselves for the end. I draw!”

Satisfaction radiated from the Shadow as it drew a card from its deck, eyes gleaming with cruel confidence. "How about a double blast from the past?" the Shadow mocked, voice dripping with malice. "I use one Chaos Overlay unit to activate Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s special ability! TIME TYRANT!”

The Shadow declared, ensuring the real Mizar would once more be unable to come to Kite’s aid. “Next, I equip my Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon with Tachyon Cannon!”

Shadow Mizar played the card without hesitation, its cold grin widening. “With this cannon equipped, my dragon loses 500 attack points... but that's a small price to pay to end this duel! Now—attack!”

Kite’s smirk remained unfazed, his eyes sharp. “Funny, I was feeling a bit nostalgic myself.” He said activating his face-down card with a flourish. “Galaxy Mirror Sage, come on out! And activate your special ability!”

The familiar blue-and-silver monster appeared on the field with it’s small silver and blue mirror, its ability kicking in instantly. “I recover 800 Life Points, and once Galaxy Mirror Sage is destroyed, it can be summoned right back to the field again.”

Instantly, Kite and Mizar’s Life Points surged from 50 to 850. before Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon's attack blasted the Sage. Kite sliding the card back into play with an almost casual ease in response to the assualt. “Back where you belong,” he muttered, watching the protective monster reappear as if nothing had changed.

The Shadow of Mizar scoffed, its laughter cutting through the air. “I think I recall you had a bit more to rely on the last time. My victory is guaranteed this time!”

“If you're so sure, why don't you continue your attack?” Kite shot back, a defiant edge in his voice.

The Shadow’s grin only deepened, its tone dripping with arrogance. “Then we shall continue your march to the end. By lowering Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s attack by half, I can attack again!”

The dragon’s attack power dropped from 4000 to 2000 as it roared, blasting another attack towards Kite’s Galaxy Mirror Sage. But Kite wasn’t backing down. “I activate Galaxy Mirror Sage's ability once more!” Kite called out, his voice steady despite the oncoming attack. “I recover another 800 Life Points, but then Galaxy Mirror Sage is banished.”

Once more the life points of both Kite and Mizar surged again, this time from 850 to 1650. For a split second, Kite hesitated—glancing down at Galaxy Mirror Sage as he discarded the card for good now. “Sorry, old friend,” he murmured, the monster fading into the void.

But the Shadow of Mizar remained relentless. “Once more, I lower Tachyon Dragon’s attack by half—again!” It sneered, already planning its next move.

The attack power of Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon dropped once more—from 2000 to 1000, and the dragon fired its assault striking Kite directly. The impact sending hurling Kite backwards and causing him to crash into the side of the field. Mizar and Kite’s life points instantly dropped to 650, and the hit left Kite struggling to stay upright given the beating he was taking in this duel. The Shadow of Mizar wasting no time, pressing on with his relentless assault. “Again! I lower my great beast's attack power and strike once more!”

Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon reared once more, its attack power halved once more to 500 before launching its blow directly on Kite, causing his and Mizar’s life points to plummet to 150. His body crashed into the Barian Sphere Field once more, sparks flying as the field electrocuted him, his form jerking with the impact. But somehow he managed to stay standing, his shaky form barely able to hold it together for much longer. “And...Now for the final blow,” the Shadow sneered, the words dripping with malevolent satisfaction. “For the last time, I lower Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s attack by half—and attack!”

Below, the tension was unbearable. Everyone watched, hearts pounding as dread thickened in the air like a storm about to break. “No... they’re done for…” Bronk muttered, his face pale as he stared upward, watching the countdown to disaster unfold with helpless dread.

At his side, Rio’s own heart twisted with fear. “This… this is too much,” she whispered, voice tight, the reality sinking in—they were about to lose two of their friends and her eyes couldn’t help but well up with tears.

And at Rio’s own side Orbital 7 jittered in place, circuits sparking with anxiety. “M-Master Kite…!” its voice cracked, layered with panic. The little robot always seemed so sure of Kite’s strength, but now trembled at the thought of losing him.

Yuma, was also overwhelmed by the sight of Kite enduring blow after blow, feeling his breath catch in his throat. His chest tightening as panic surged. “Kite!” he cried, his voice strained and desperate as the weight of the situation crashed down on him

Dumon on the otherhand stood tense, unable to hide the worry etched across his face. His fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Mizar…” he murmured, almost too softly to hear—his voice fragile, the name barely escaping as he stared upward, unwilling to accept what seemed inevitable.

Yet, beside him Shark quietly stepped forward. Seeing Dumon unravel even slightly troubled him, and without hesitation, he reached out to take his partner’s hand in his. Squeezing it lightly to provide support. “He’ll pull through,” Shark said, steady but low. “He always does.” But even as the words left him, his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt—this duel was pushing all of them past their limits while in or outside the duel.

Though, Yuma could no longer hold it in as he reached his breaking point. Overcome, he turned from the battle and grabbed hold of Ray’s arm, seeking something—anything—to stop the spiral of despair as his eyes welled up with his own tears. A helplessness setting in. “I can’t watch... it can’t end like this... Kite...!” His voice cracked, raw with pain, as if the moment itself might swallow him whole.

Ray didn’t hesitate, turning ever so slightly to meet Yuma’s trembling form with calm resolve before pulling him into a tight embrace. Holding him there, strong and steady. “I know,” he murmured, just above a whisper. His voice, though quiet, carried weight. “But we have to believe in them. They’re still standing. And they’re not giving up—so neither can we.”

Then to all their horrors the final attack was launched—Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon’s power roaring as it unleashed its strike, intent on finishing the duel. A thick cloud of smoke erupting within the Barian Sphere Field, obscuring everything as the spectators collectively held their breath, waiting in agonizing silence as their hearts pounded in their chests. Feeling as if time itself had frozen.

For a moment, it seemed like the outcome was sealed, the defeat inevitable. But then, just before the smoke could clear, Kite’s silhouette appeared—faint but unmistakable. He was still standing. The Shadow of Mizar the first to break the silence, its voice high with disbelief. “How are you still standing?!” it shrieked, shock twisting its face.

As the smoke cleared a little more, revealing Mizar everyone noticed his face-down card had activated. A cold smirk crossed his lips as he stepped forward, speaking with quiet confidence. “That would be my doing,” he said, his voice calm and sure. “You were so certain you had Kite on the ropes that you neglected to consider that I still had a face-down card ready to defend him.”

“No—no!” The Shadow gasped, its confidence cracking for the first time as the reality of the situation set in.

Below, the group exchanged stunned glances as the weight of Mizar’s intervention finally sank in. Relief began to settle like a wave, breaking the tension that had nearly swallowed them whole. A small smile tugging at the corner of Ray’s lips. “See?” he said softly to Yuma, voice warm with quiet pride. “I told you... They’re not giving up.”

Yuma pulled slightly back from Ray’s embrace, turning to face the duel once more. His expression shifting—worry replaced by shining relief. “Kite!” he called out, his smile bright and unguarded.

“They’re still in this,” Shark said, his voice laced with admiration as he watched the battlefield before turning to Dumon, standing beside him. “Don’t worry. Mizar’s not going down that easily.”

Dumon didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the field. But the rigid tension in his frame eased just slightly, his shoulders dropping a fraction. When he finally spoke, it was with quiet conviction. “Mizar… You’re right.” The words were soft, almost reverent—a mixture of relief and respect for his friend’s tenacity.

Rio, though still visibly tense, let out a slow breath, her arms folding over her chest as if holding herself together. “That was... close,” she muttered, eyes never straying from the duel—determined to see this through to the end, no matter how it played out.

And then came a familiar, high-pitched chirp of joy. Orbital 7 practically launched into the air, robotic arms flailing with renewed excitement. “Master Kite! I knew you wouldn’t give up!” the little robot exclaimed, circuits whirring and eyes gleaming as if it hadn’t been on the verge of a meltdown mere moments ago. Before landing with a bounce, now buzzing with sheer optimism.

“Allow me to explain how this works,” Mizar’s voice rang out, firm and exultant, savoring the moment. “Burial from a Different Dimension is a Trap Card—one that lets me interrupt your attack and Special Summon a banished monster to my field.”

“To your field? That doesn’t save him! That card can’t protect Kite!” Shadow Mizar barked back, eyes narrowing.

“Normally, no. But the card Kite gave me—Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension—is also coming into play. Which means I can use the monster I just summoned… for something greater,” Mizar’s voice deepened with satisfaction. “As I can overlay them during your Battle Phase.”

The Shadow of Mizar recoiled, eyes wide. “You’re Xyz Summoning in the middle of my attack?!”

“I am–I learned it from my rival,” Mizar declared, offering a small nod of acknowledgement to Kite before he raised his arm. “Now watch, as I return Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon—this time, to my side of the field!”

Kite’s trusted dragon materialized once more, its wings flaring open in defiance. But now, it stood under Mizar’s command. “And with that,” Mizar continued, eyes burning with purpose, “I activate Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension! I overlay Kite’s Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and my own Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon! And rebuild the Overlay Network!”

Above the fractured remains of the Barian Sphere Field, a cyclone of raw energy erupted — twisting streams of gold photon light and deep crimson tachyon energy spiraled around each other, colliding like two dying stars on the brink of rebirth. The very air cracked and distorted, reality bending under the pressure. From their respective positions, Kite and Mizar stood firm — their eyes locked in shared determination as they nodded to one another.

“Through time’s endless spiral–the will to defy fate emerges! I Xyz Summon—the ultimate temporal beast! Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon!” Mizar commanded.

A rupture tore through space, not a portal but a wound in existence itself. From the heart of that rift, a silhouette emerged — vast, celestial, partially translucent, like it existed in multiple timelines at once. Its wings flared wide—one side radiant, crackling with pure photon energy; the other jagged and warping, carved from compressed stardust and folded time. Trails of gold and red light twisted into a spiral behind it, burning across the sky as if writing new cosmic laws.

The dragon's chest core pulsed—a miniature spinning galaxy, rings of temporal glyphs orbiting it like a divine engine. Its three eyes glowed with terrifying awareness: one serene and blinding white, the others scanning the battlefield with temporal omniscience. Even the Barian Sphere Field recoiled, unstable in the dragon's presence, distorting as if struggling to contain something that should not exist in this realm.

“A new Galaxy-Eyes dragon?!” Rio gasped, awe etched across her face.

“…And one born from unity, not rivalry…” Shark murmured, his voice filled with wonder. “...Born from a unison of Kite and Mizar.”

“That’s so totally cool!” Yuma cheered, fists raised. “Kite! Mizar! That’s how you duel as a team!”

“Now!” Mizar’s voice rang out like thunder. “When Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon is summoned, its special ability activates! All other face-up card effects are negated—and you can't activate cards or effects in response!”

The Shadow of Mizar recoiled in alarm, already feeling the tide shift. “But that’s not all,” Mizar continued, raising a hand once more as the dragon's energy pulsed. “By detaching one Chaos Overlay Unit… I banish every card you control and everything in your Graveyard! Go—Spiral Erasure!”

A surge of divine light spiraled outward. The Shadow’s eyes widened in horror as his Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon vanished—along with every trace of his remaining strategy. “No! M-My dragon—!” the Shadow screamed.

But Mizar wasn’t finished. His voice now rose with triumphant resolve. “When Spiral Erasure resolves, my dragon gains the power to attack twice this turn—though once will be more than enough! Now, Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon—Transcendent Spiral Photon Stream!”

The cosmic dragon surged forward, its wings unfurling as the spiral galaxy in its chest ignited. A colossal beam of light and time erupted as the attack connected with devastating force. The Shadow's 1600 life points vanishing in an instant. The remnants of its form dissolving into a lingering shadowy essence, just as the Shadow of Vector had before.

The holo-display above flared: WINNER: KITE & MIZAR.

The Barian Sphere Field in turn fractured and crumbled, dissolving into shards of crimson light as Mizar and Kite descended back to solid ground, the oppressive energy fading around them as their friends rushed forward to greet them. “That was an amazing duel!” Yuma shouted, eyes bright with awe.

The group exchanged words of relief and celebration, the tension of the duel finally giving way to joy over their allies’ victory. But while most of them spoke amongst themsevles, Mizar’s attention had already shifted—his eyes locked on the lingering shadowy essence that hung in the air where his shadow self had been defeated.

Without hesitation, he stepped away from the others, striding toward the swirling remnants. His hand extending, reaching into the darkness—not with fear, but with purpose. The shadow curling inward, drawn into his palm like a returning piece of his soul. A faint glow surrounded him as warmth and power surged back into his being. Satisfaction flickering across his features. For Mizar, more than any of the other Barian Emperors, becoming human had always felt like a cage. Now, that cage had shattered. He was whole again. “Mizar…”

Dumon’s voice came quietly as he approached. His gaze lingered on his friend with both awe and caution. “Is it true? Have you returned… to being a Barian?”

Mizar didn’t hesitate. Raising his hand, he summoned the energy now flowing through him once more. “Go—Barian Battlemorph!”

In a flash, his form shifted, transforming into the familiar form the Shadow of Mizar had taken. There was no mistaking it—Mizar had fully awakened as a Barian Emperor once more, his powers reclaimed after conquering his shadow. “If you and the others do the same, Dumon,” Mizar said, his voice calm but resolute, “There’s no question. You’ll reclaim your true selves. We no longer have to endure the limits of human form.”

There was unmistakable pride in his voice—pride earned through hardship and victory. Dumon gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “And yet, if the rest of our battles are even half as fierce as yours or Vector’s… we’d better be ready.” His voice was steady, though concern lingered beneath his words. “The cost of failure is still unknown.”

That was when Kite stepped forward, his expression firm. “That’s why I came prepared.” He held up a familiar card. “Quinton crafted these, based on what Yuma told me about his and Ray’s encounter with Vector’s Shadow.”

Yuma blinked. “Wait—is that the same card Mizar used? That new Rank-Up-Magic?”

Kite nodded, flipping through a small fan of identical cards before offering them out.
“There’s one for each of the former Barian Emperors… and one for you, Yuma.” His gaze was steady as he extended them. “We’re going to need to be ready. All of us.”

Without hesitation, Dumon, Rio, Shark, and Ray each took their respective Rank-Up-Magic cards from Kite. Shark accepting two extra copies on behalf of Alito and Girag, slipping them carefully into his deck box. Then, Kite proceeded to hold out the final card to Yuma—who accepted it instantly, his expression lighting up with excitement.

Yuma’s eyes studying the card, scanning the text as a grin crept across his face. “So this lets Chaos Xyz monsters evolve using another one’s power…” he murmured, his mind already racing. And then, as if he couldn’t hold it in a second longer— “Hey! Who wants to test this out right now?! I gotta see what Utopia Ray Victory evolves into!”

His enthusiasm was infectious, but the group exchanged weary glances—none too eager to jump into another battle so soon. Undeterred, Yuma pivoted with all the subtlety of a photon blast. “Ray! You and me, let’s duel together against Shark and Dumon! I wanna see what Utopia Ray Victory and Umbral Horror Masquerade make together!” he shouted with a fist pump, already halfway pulling his Duel Disk up.

Ray chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I’d love to, Yuma, really. But I think everyone would prefer a quiet sit-down to another showdown,” he said, gesturing to the thoroughly exhausted group around them.

As if to echo the sentiment, Yuma’s stomach let out a long, loud growl. Causing him to freeze—before laughing, hands behind his head. “Ha-ha… okay, okay, maybe after we eat!”

The tension of battle finally melted into lighthearted laughter as the group relaxed. And with the threat of the Barian Shadows behind them—at least for now—as well as new powers in hand, they began to head out, the sun casting long golden rays across the landscape. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side.

Chapter Text

With the conclusion of the battle against Mizar’s Shadow behind them, Yuma had been hopeful—too hopeful, maybe—that they could all grab a bite to eat, crack some jokes, and throw down in a good old-fashioned duel just for fun. No world-ending stakes, no cosmic pressure—just friends hanging out and having fun. But that idea unraveled quicker than he expected.

Kite was the first to bow out. Understandable, considering the beating he’d taken during the duel against the Shadow of Mizar. Orbital 7 quick to transform into his usual jetpack configuration, and within seconds, the two were airborne and gone. Mizar followed not long after, casually bringing up the fact that he had class shorty. Mentioning something about advanced astrophysics or something to that effect–and it figured for someone so obsessed with his Galaxy-Eyes he would naturally be studying the stars. Shark and Dumon had lingered just long enough for Yuma to feel like the plan might still come together. But Shark gave him an apologetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. “Next time, we’ll get that duel in. Promise. Just… not tonight.” He’d said.

And with that, he and Dumon took off—headed to the university’s marine science wing, where Dumon was helping with a conservation project and Shark had mandatory fieldwork hours. Rio followed soon after, rushing off to her part-time modeling gig downtown. While Bronk was the last to go, muttering something about soccer practice and the team’s upcoming match before jogging off. That left just Yuma and Ray standing in the soft light of the afternoon sun, not far from where the duel had ended. Yuma trying to mask his disappointment, bue it clung to him like a shadow. He knew they were all getting older and thus had responsibilities, schedules, and lives–but it was hard to let go of those carefree days. A strange description for sure, when they had all been participating in high stake world-ending duels then–but at least in those days they still seemed to have time to hang out.

“Guess it’s just us now, huh?”

Ray shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets as the late afternoon breeze stirred around them. Yuma tried to smile, really tried—but the weight of it all settled quietly in his chest. Things were changing, even when he wished they’d stay the same. Ray glanced over, clearly picking up on the shift in Yuma’s mood. “Hey, Yuma… Why don’t you and I go somewhere?” he offered, voice light but deliberate.

Yuma blinked. “Just the two of us…?” The words slipped out before he could catch them.

It wasn’t strange for him and Ray to hang out, even if Bronk usually tagged along—but the way Ray said it this time…there was something softer in his tone. A small pause. A warmth that made Yuma’s cheeks burn, a fluttering feeling stirring low in his stomach. Yet. he shoved it down fast, telling himself it was just friendship. Just a friend being kind. Even if… a part of him didn’t want it to be just that.

Ray’s smile curved, gentle and just a little knowing. “There’s a café nearby—you know, the one with those ridiculous waffles you love. Wouldn’t it be nice just to go somewhere quiet for a bit?”

Yuma’s heart gave a traitorous little jump, a smile cracking through his lingering disappointment. “Yeah… I’d like that,” he said, stepping forward. “Lead the way, pal!”

Ray raised a finger in mock-seriousness. “Are you sure about that, Yuma? If I lead, we might end up taking the Ray Way.”

Yuma laughed, the sound coming easily. “Well, that’s just a risk I’m going to have to take—I know I’m in capable hands, we’ll get there one way or another. Whether its a straight path or an adventure!”

“That’s the spirit!” Ray said with a grin, turning on his heel and heading off at an easy pace.

They hadn’t been walking five minutes off campus when Ray suddenly veered off the main sidewalk and into a narrow alleyway. “Shortcut,” he declared with absolute confidence.

Yuma raised an eyebrow but followed anyway. Which was how, not long after they ended up tiptoeing past someone’s porch—trying to be very quiet near a very large, very grumpy-looking dog. At first, the mutt was fast asleep, chin resting on its paws, but the moment Yuma made the misstep of crushing a discarded soda can on the sidewalk with his foot, the dog’s eyes snapped open. It was silent for half a second as it focused in on the pair before the barking exploded, sharp and vicious. The dog springing to its feet with a wagging tail and teeth bared in full pursuit mode. “RUN, YUMA!” Ray shouted, reaching out quickly to seize Yuma’s hand and pull him along as they bolted.

Yuma’s feet slowly kicking into motion as he stumbled after him, their fingers locked tight as they tore down the alley. Trash bins blurring past, fences rushing by and behind them the dog’s snarling and barking growing louder. Yet, Ray didn’t let go—not once ensuring both of them escaped together. Finally managing a narrow escape as they burst through a half-open wooden fence into a quiet park on the other side–the dog finally deciding it had strayed to far from home and retreating as the pair collapsed exhausted onto the grass in a heap, hearts pounding.

For a moment, neither of them could speak. Then the laughter hit, loud, breathless and real. Yuma lay back against the grass for a moment still recovering and still clutching Ray’s hand tightly–not even realizing it until he caught the glance between them and the soft squeeze Ray offered before letting go. Yuma’s cheeks couldn’t help but flush a little as he tried to play it off, “Guess your shortcuts are still the scenic route,” Yuma joked between laughs.

Ray just grinned, cheeks a little pink himself. “You survived, didn’t you?”

Yuma was half way though a nod before he sat up something catching his eyes and in the next moment he was quickly pointing it out. “Hey—look!”

The sign ominously read: BEWARE OF GEESE–both turning in time to see a suspiciously large flock waddling near the pond, one already flapping its wings with menace. Perhaps, the real reason the dog hadn’t wanted to pursue them into the park. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Yuma muttered.

Ray sighed, still smiling. “The Ray Way has never been the easy route.”

Yuma was going to agree with those sentiments but before he could respond, Ray took his arm, hosting him up. “C’mon. Stick with me—I’ll make sure we get through this!”

Yuma gave a slight nod and together, they took off, dodging wings and webbed feet, laughter echoing through the golden haze as the afternoon deepened. By the time they escaped the goose-infested park, their clothes were a little worse for wear—grass stains, a few ruffled hems—but Yuma was grinning ear to ear. A fact that made Ray smile to himself as he noted a silent, mission accomplished. “Next stop,” Ray announced, leading the pair onwards before coming to a halt in front of a sleek, glass-paneled storefront.

A soft bassline pulsing and seeming to be playing from nowhere and everywhere at once. Above them, a holographic sign read: Echo Drift – Music You Don’t Just Hear. Yuma tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Wait, we’re seriously stopping here?”

“You’ll thank me,” Ray said with a grin, already stepping inside and holding the door open for Yuma.

The lighting was low and ambient, the kind that made you instinctively slow your steps and drop your voice. Holographic album covers flashing on their respective displays greeted their eyes. While along one wall, a series of listening pods curved into the walls—cozy alcoves with shared displays, adaptive controls, and twin headsets resting side by side. Ray didn’t hesitate to led them over to one near the back. “I find the shared pods have better bass response,” he said, tapping at the glowing interface. “Or at least better company.”

Yuma blinked a little, “You’ve dragged other people in here before?”

He meant it to sound casual, teasing maybe—but the words landed heavier than he intended. And Ray, always observant, seemed to notice. A second passed—just long enough for Yuma to start regretting asking, but then Ray’s smile turned smaller. Softer. “Only the ones who matter,” he said, voice low but steady and offered an almost playful wink.

That should’ve been enough and it was–mostly. Yuma in turn looked down, fiddling with the headset. He didn’t know what answer he’d been hoping for—but the idea of someone else being here with Ray, sitting this close, listening to music—it made something twist in his chest. He told himself it was just surprise–curiosity. But a quieter part of him, the part he usually tried to ignore—felt something else. Something akin to jealousy. Still, he managed a grin. “Guess I made the VIP list, huh?” He said trying to act casual.

Ray only nudged him gently, smiling brightly. “You’ve always been on the list.”

Yuma blinked, his heart skipping a beat—but before he could say anything, Ray handed him the headset, fingers brushing lightly, lingering just a second longer than they should. Ray seemed completely at ease, voice low as he gazed at the screen trying to select a song for Yuma. “What about something mellow? I think you’ll like it. Unless you’re in a heavy-metal mood?” He asked. “Or pop?”

“Mellow’s fine,” Yuma muttered, settling the headset over his ears a little too quickly.

The track faded in slowly—soft synths rising and falling like ocean waves under a night sky. Then a beat joined in, subtle but steady, like the memory of a summer he couldn’t quite place but somehow missed all the same. Before he knew it Yuma let his eyes drift closed for a moment. When he opened them again, Ray was watching him. Not teasing, not grinning, just…watching. Yuma looked away fast, cheeks warming, the music suddenly louder in his ears. “It’s good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought you’d like it,” Ray said softly, offering a small and a nod before his gaze drifted back to the interface–his fingers hovering over the controls. “Or… we can head to the next spot, if you’re ready.”

Yuma didn’t answer right away. Part of him was fine, more than fine—just staying here. Strangely enough, he’d actually forgotten he was hungry. Him, of all people. He was usually thinking about food, even when dueling–which often required packing Duel Fuel. And he always ate like it was his last meal, no matter what. But right now, food didn’t matter. Only Ray did. He could feel it, that quiet urge to scoot just a little closer. Maybe lean into Ray’s shoulder, feel the warmth of it—just for a second. He imagined it so clearly, it almost startled him. But instead of moving, Yuma hesitated. Carefully, he removed his headset and turned to Ray. “I want to share a song too,” he said, the words coming slower than usual, like they had to pass through something unspoken first.

Ray glanced up, brows raised in quiet surprise—but said nothing as Yuma reached forward. It was the only move Yuma thought he could get away with. Justifiable and innocent, on the surface. He gently placed the headset over Ray’s ears, hands lingering just a moment too long as he adjusted the fit. His fingertips brushing against Ray’s hair—accidental, maybe, but not unwelcome. Then he turned to the interface and began scrolling through tracks, pretending he wasn’t still aware of how close they were. How his heart was thudding harder than it should’ve been–almost afraid Ray might be able to hear it.

The two of them stayed in that pod a while longer, trading songs without many words. Just passing headsets, smiling and enjoying the kind of silence that felt full, not empty. And once they were both satisfied they finally stood. Not because they wanted to leave—but because they both knew they had to, eventually. But something had shifted, even if neither of them said it aloud. Perhaps they didn’t need to.

It hadn’t been the fastest route—not by a long shot. Definitely roundabout, definitely chaotic. But it was exactly the kind of detour Yuma needed. A reminder that not everything had to be about saving worlds or winning duels—sometimes, it was enough to laugh, to run from angry geese or share music in the company of those cherished.

By the time they reached the cozy café tucked just around the corner, laughter still lingered between them. Ray’s grin softened as they stepped inside, the warm scent of coffee and syrup wrapping around them like a blanket. Yuma sinking down in a seat across from him with a contented sigh–a quiet calm settling over him. “Order whatever you like, Yuma,” Ray said brightly. “This one’s on me.”

Yuma blinked, caught off guard—not just by the offer, but by how it made something flutter deep in his chest again. He didn’t know if Ray was just being nice—just Ray being Ray—or if… maybe this was something more. The idea shouldn’t have hit so hard, but it did. In five years of friendship, Ray had never once dated anyone. At least, not that Yuma had ever seen. He’d always assumed Ray just wasn’t interested in those types of things. That he was just the kind person who was thoughtful with everyone, generous without meaning anything more. And yet… Ray offering to pay, the look in his eyes, the way the afternoon had unfolded—it all felt different.

Just enough to make Yuma wonder–just enough to make him wish. But he caught himself before his thoughts could wander too far, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t afford to read too much into this. Not unless he was ready to deal with the potential rejection. And he wasn’t sure he was, not yet.

Though he could dream—just for a little while—Yuma let his thoughts drift further than he usually allowed. What if this was a date? What if this was Ray’s quiet way of testing the waters, trying to see if Yuma felt the same? The idea filled him with a warm, fluttering hope—and just as quickly, a cold wave of fear. He wanted it. Wanted to reach across the table, to say something that mattered. But the risk of shattering the rhythm they had, the ease they’d built over years—it was terrifying. What if he was wrong? What if this was all just Ray being his kind, generous self, and Yuma misread it completely?

He forced himself to stay grounded, tried to focus on the menu instead of the pounding of his heart. They talked casually—about waffles and drinks, debating which topping combo was more ridiculous—just enough to keep his thoughts from spiraling too far out. The pair diving in without hesitation to their respective dishes when they finally arrived. And while their was silence between them it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was comfortable—companionable. The kind of silence you only earned after years of knowing someone.

Yuma let himself relax into it, at least a little. Enjoying the rest of the meal before they both leaned back in their seats in that post-meal haze. Sunlight filtering through the café window, casting warm gold across the table between them. Then Ray spoke again, voice quieter than before. “Hey, Yuma…”

Yuma looked up, heart tightening instinctively at the tone as Ray gave him a small smile. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

It was a simple thing to say. But to Yuma, it felt like the earth tilted—just a little. And suddenly, maybe he wasn’t so afraid of hoping after all.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of a data screen humming gently on the desk across from the bed. Cool, sterile colors dominated the space—deep blues, matte grays, and the occasional flash of neon from dormant duel equipment lining the far wall. Despite its high-tech edge, the room didn’t feel cold. It was orderly, efficient—reflecting the mind of someone who valued control, who couldn't afford chaos.

Kite Tenjo sat upright on the bed, his back against the wall, arms resting at his side. The sheets beneath him were untouched save for where he sat—neatly tucked, hardly disturbed, like he hadn't been sleeping at all. His usually rigid posture was more relaxed now, but only just. The weight of recent battles still hung over him.

Gone was his black trench coat and dueling gear. Instead, Kite wore a simple fitted charcoal shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing pale angular arms that bore faint marks of stress and old battle wounds. Loose black lounge pants replaced his usual pristine white duelist pants, and his boots had been traded for nothing at all—his bare feet resting silently under the cool sheets of the bed.

His wild blonde hair, always striking with its curled point and dark green front, looked slightly softer in the low light, a few strands of dark green bangs falling across his tired, sharp eyes. Those light blue-grey eyes, so often filled with fierce resolve—now gazed toward the far wall, unfocused, the weight of introspection dulling their edge.

Nearby, on a shelf just above his desk, sat a small photograph in a subdued frame: him and Hart, smiling—years younger. A rare smile, soft and unguarded, crossed Kite's face for only a second before fading again. As his eyes became fixed on a small crystalline vial that had been set on the bedside table beside him. The serum within pulsing faintly with a deep, crimson light–Barian sigils etched along the edges of the vial like ancient scars, yet a glow with some form of purpose. The colour wasn’t warm, but it was certainly sharp–almost restless like the core of something still alive.

He hadn’t taken it yet, despite it being left there for him the day before. And yet, while awake, he couldn’t stop staring at the vial. Watching it silently as if it might offer answers it had no power to give and so his mind, untethered and uneasy, drifted back to the day prior. A memory rising up like a wave—inevitable, all-consuming.

***

The low hum of a portal fractured the stillness, snapping Kite from a light doze. No dramatic fanfare followed—just a subtle distortion in the air as the energy shimmered and solidified. Then in a sudden Mizar had stepped out into the room. No greetings, no theatrics, his presence just undeniably there. Kite’s light blue-grey eyes locked on the Barian instantly, narrowing as he recognized the tall figure standing only a little ways from his bedside. “And here I thought you said you had class,” Kite muttered, voice flat, unimpressed.

Mizar’s boots touched down with quiet purpose. Taking care to dust off his clothes with deliberate flair, a smirk tugging faintly at his mouth. “I did,” he said smoothly. “Briefly.”

Then, tilting his chin with that infuriating, smug elegance, he added, “Unlike humans, I don’t need to suffer through remedial lectures to retain knowledge. My mind is… a far sharper and not so easily dulled.”

Kite scoffed, but didn’t rise to it. “Still arrogant.”

“Still correct.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Mizar crossed the room, his confidence pressing into the air like gravity. In his hands was a cylindrical container—sleek, and glowing faintly red from within. Kite shifted to face him more fully, slow and stiff from his last duel’s toll. “What’s that?”

“A serum,” Mizar replied, raising it between two fingers. “Barian crystallization therapy. Modified, of course, for your... fragile human physiology.”

Kite stared—not at the vial, but at him. “You modified Barian tech,” he said slowly, as if repeating it might make it sound less insane. “For a human.”

“I didn’t make it sentimental, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mizar said, his gaze cool and unreadable. “You sustained cellular fatigue and neural trauma fighting my Shadow. I refuse to let you remain weak. If we’re to fight again, I want you at full strength—otherwise, you’ll be a burden.”

He set the container down on Kite’s bedside table with deliberate precision. Not reverent, not dramatic, just firm and certain. Kite didn’t respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the serum, its glow casting long shadows across the room. “What is this really about, Mizar?” he asked at last, voice low. “We’re not friends.”

For a moment a silence passed. The vial’s glow painted half of Mizar’s face in deep red, sharpening the lines of his expression until he looked almost otherworldly. Severe. Yet his posture remained loose, casual in a way that suggested detachment—like this truly meant nothing to him.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Mizar replied. “I didn’t bring it out of kindness. I brought it because I’m not finished with you.”

“Tch. You sound confident.”

“Because I am,” Mizar said without hesitation, raising a hand to resummon his portal with his newly returned Barian Powers.

The energy swirled before him as the portal manifested, Mizar not providing Kite a chance to speak again as the Barian slipped through it. No final word. No parting glance. Just silence. Kite was left alone once more in the dim quiet of his room… the serum still glowing faintly on the nightstand, untouched.

And for the first time in a long while, Kite couldn’t quite steady the feeling in his chest—something had shifted, ever so slightly, off its axis. A rival’s concern? No. Mizar hadn’t framed it that way. Wouldn’t. And Kite wouldn’t allow himself to believe it either. But still… he couldn’t ignore the way it lingered. The weight of it. The question of why. And so the serum remained where Mizar had left it. Unopened but not untouched…

***

There was a sudden knock, sharp and out of place in the stillness, snapping Kite from the lingering traces of memory. “Hey, Kite! You up?!”

Yuma’s voice—familiar, loud, and full of life—cut through the quiet. The door sliding open before Kite could respond, and sure enough in walked Yuma Tsukumo, juggling a crinkling bag of snacks and two energy drinks under one arm while waving with the other. “I brought some stuff to help with your recovery—some Junk Fuel! I’m pretty sure they’ve got electrolytes in them... somewhere.”

Kite gave a faint smirk, dry and barely there. “I don’t think that’s medically sound.”

Yuma shrugged, unbothered. But as he stepped further in, his eyes were drawn to the desk—specifically, to the faint crimson glow radiating from the sealed vial. “Whoa. What’s that?” he asked, blinking. “Looks like it came out of a sci-fi vault or something.”

Kite didn’t move. “Barian tech. Neural and cellular regeneration serum.”

Yuma blinked again, this time slower—confused, caught off-guard. “Barian?”

He tilted his head, brows furrowing as dots began to connect. “…Wait. Did Mizar give you that?!”

Kite nodded once. “Yesterday.”

Yuma stopped mid-step. “Yesterday?” he echoed, confusion deepening. His mind flashed back to the duel—Mizar’s sudden withdrawal and his comment about class. “But... didn’t he say he had class?”

There was a brief pause. Quiet. Subtle—but telling.

Kite’s gaze flicked away for the first time, his voice perfectly even. “Apparently, he didn’t.”

Yuma let out a short laugh, but it didn’t quite carry. “Heh. Guess even Barians ditch school now and then.”

It was meant as a joke—but the air shifted slightly, as if something unspoken had joined them in the room. This wasn’t just a gift. Not something left behind after a duel. Mizar had crossed dimensions—twice—traveling from Earth to Barian World and back again. And somehow, he’d modified the Barian crystallization recovery method into a serum compatible with human biology, for Kite. Yuma didn’t need the science to know: That wasn’t casual. And it didn’t quite sound like something Mizar would do.

He pulled up Kite’s desk chair, dragging it over near the edge of the bed and sitting beside his friend. He didn’t push the subject—didn’t need to. But his eyes couldn’t help drifting back to the glowing red vial before settling on Kite again. “Are you gonna use it?” he asked lightly.

Kite didn’t answer at first. His hand moved toward the vial, fingers brushing against its cool surface. The soft red shimmer lighting up his features, but his eyes remained unreadable. “Eventually,” he murmured.

Yuma watched him for a long moment. Kite, who always seemed untouchable. Unreachable. Now sitting here in silence, with something left behind by someone who wasn’t supposed to care. “…Kite,” Yuma said quietly. “You too, huh?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, but it slipped through anyway—soft and honest. The kind of thing that didn’t need to be explained. All the while the vial’s red light pulsed faintly on the nightstand, steady like a heartbeat. Kite slowly leaned back, gaze drifting up toward the ceiling, posture stiff—almost defensive. As if the thoughts in his head were pushing in too close.

This wasn’t the first time. He remembered it clearly, the final moments on the Moon—after their clash. After the creation of Number 100: Numeron Dragon. The fight that had temporarily ended their rivalry. He’d known, in that moment, he wouldn’t survive. That he wouldn’t make it back and that he’d have to trust his enemy—his rival—to carry something vital forward. Thus he’d entrusted the card to Mizar. Of all people. Entrusting him with his final wishes: that Yuma receive it to ensure success in the fight against Don Thousand. And Mizar had done it. Despite his hatred for humans. Despite everything. No demands for recognition. No dramatic speeches. He’d just... honored it. A human’s final request.

Sure, at the time, it might have seemed like respect between two rivals a mutual acknowledgment of being one another's worthy opponents. But Mizar hadn’t needed to go this far. Not then and certainly not now… And yet—the vial still sat on the bedside table.

It hadn’t been an order. Not a mission. No one had asked Mizar to do anything. But he’d still gone back to Barian World. Still altered a crystallization healing method for a species he supposedly disdained. And he’d handed it over without ceremony, as if it were just another task to cross off a list. Except it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Mizar had said it was about rivalry. About strength. But somewhere in the space between those words, Kite felt the weight of something else. Something harder to name. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Not about Mizar. Not about anyone. That kind of vulnerability… he’d locked it away a long time ago. Since Hart. So why now? Why him?

Maybe it was the way Mizar looked at him—like he wasn’t broken. Like he was still worth challenging. Like the bond between them, battle-forged and bitter, actually meant something. And maybe… that mattered more than Kite wanted to admit. He exhaled quietly, gaze drifting back to the red-lit vial. After a long pause, he reached out, picking it up—studying it like a scientist trying to find a crack in the design. But deep down, he knew that he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for. This vial wouldn’t explain anything. And especially not what this feeling was. The silence had stretched long between them creating an awkwardness but finally Kite spoke. His voice was low, careful. Not guarded, but unsure. “…Yuma.”

“Yeah?” Yuma replied, mouth half-full as he munched on the snacks he’d brought. Having helped himself without asking—but Kite didn’t mind–not this time.

“How did you know…?”

Yuma blinked, lowering the chip bag, brow furrowed. “Know what?”

Kite hesitated, then said it more bluntly than he probably meant to. “…That you were in love with Ray.”

Yuma choked instantly. “W–What!? Ray?!” His voice jumped an octave as his face went bright red. “Haha—what are you talking about?! I never said anything like that!!”

“You didn’t have to,” Kite replied, tone flat. “Anyone with eyes could tell.”

Yuma groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Ugh... Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Kite said plainly. “You act differently around him. Less reckless, more… deliberate.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Yuma flailed slightly, flustered and sputtering.

“When…” Kite paused, the hesitation almost unnatural coming from someone so composed. Sharing something this personal wasn’t easy—especially for someone who’d trained himself to stay detached. “When I think about Mizar…” he began again, slower this time. “I feel… strange. He’s extremely frustrating. He does things that make no sense especially for someone who claims to hate humans… And yet, he’s gone out of his way for me. Twice.”

He didn’t elaborate nor did he need to. His grip tightened around the vial in his hand, knuckles whitening. “And I keep thinking about it,” he admitted, voice low. “Obsessing over it. Like it’s a duel I can’t predict. No strategy. No endgame. Just... noise.”

Yuma sat in silence for a moment, surprised—not by what Kite said, but by how much it echoed feelings he himself had struggled to name. The situations were different, sure. But the confusion, the uncertainty? That hit close. Yuma took a quiet breath and let his usual energy fade, his voice dropping into something more thoughtful. “...Do you think you’re in love with Mizar?”

Kite flinched slightly—then, in a rare break, snapped: “I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

Yuma didn’t take offense—he figured this had to be hard for Kite. Someone so closed off, so carefully detached, trying to give voice to something this personal. So instead of pushing, Yuma leaned back in the chair, thoughtful now as he spoke from his own experience. “…I think it was when being around Ray started to scare me,” he said quietly.

Kite tilted his head, a faint crease of confusion forming between his brows. “Not in a bad way,” Yuma added quickly. “It’s just… I get scared that every time I see him it might be the last time. That one day, he’ll disappear again...”

He ran a hand through his long hair, trying to explain. “When I’m around Ray, I can be myself. I mean, I am myself around other people too, but... it’s different with him. I feel more like me, I guess? Ugh—this is so hard to put into words!”

He groaned, throwing his head back slightly in frustration. But he kept trying to keep going with the explanation in order to help his friend. “I just… feel safe. Like he’s the only one who really gets me. Like he sees all of me, and still stays. And that makes me want to be around him. Always. And even when I’m not with him, I’m still thinking about him.”

Kite didn’t answer right away, but Yuma could tell he was listening. Considering the words and the weight behind them. The silence between them was no longer awkward—just thoughtful. Then Yuma said quietly, “You like him, Kite.”

He met Kite’s eyes, calm and certain. “You were there when he needed you. You faced his Shadow.”

Kite wanted to brush that off. Wanted to explain that he’d been tracking Barian anomalies with Orbital 7 ever since Yuma had warned him after the emergence of Vector’s Shadow. Wanted to state that he would’ve shown up for any Barian activity, as it was a means to gather intel. That he’d only wanted to duel because any duel that involved a Galaxy-Eyes Dragon concerned him. That was the tactful response. But the truth was… Yuma was right. He hadn’t been obligated to step in. He hadn’t needed to fight and yet he had chosen to. But maybe, that wasn’t the whole story…frustration bubbling in response just beneath the surface, not with Yuma—but with himself. With everything he didn’t want to admit and couldn’t explain. Kite sighed, looking away. “I’m trying to understand why…”

Kite’s admission caught even Yuma off guard—but after a moment, he smiled encouragingly towards his friend. Soft and genuine. “Hey… maybe not everything needs a ‘why,’” Yuma said. “Maybe that’s just how things are, Kite.”

A quiet beat passed between them and then a little more gently Yuma added: “…And Kite… you should tell him. Tell Mizar how you feel.”

“Not a chance,” Kite replied immediately, sharp and unflinching—almost too fast.

There it was again: that quiet defensiveness, the automatic need to armor himself. “Mizar doesn’t need his ego inflated any more than it already is,” he added dryly, folding his arms and turning his gaze away.

Yuma didn’t push after that. He just gave a small laugh and went back to the snacks, like the emotional bombshells they'd both dropped were just part of an ordinary afternoon. Typical. And somehow comforting—despite this being perhaps one of the first, if not the only time Kite had really, actually opened up to Yuma emotionally.

Kite on the other hand remained quiet, the vial still resting loosely in his hand. Its red glow had dimmed slightly in the light, but it was still there. Constant. Unfading. Like the thought of Mizar—persistent, unwanted, and unshakable. Kite wasn’t sure if he was ready to name what it was. But maybe Yuma was right. Maybe not everything needed a reason. Maybe this didn’t need a name to be real. Kite moved and set the vial back on the nightstand gently before leaning back against the pillows, letting his eyes drift shut. Just for a moment.

No decisions made. No confessions spoken. But the silence felt less heavy now, and that, maybe—was enough.

Chapter Text

Yuma awoke the next morning to the faint scent of something warm drifting up from downstairs—a gentle signal that the day had already started without him. His right hand twitched slightly before curling into the sheets, helping him sit up as sleep clung stubbornly to his thoughts. A quiet mumble escaping as he rubbed at his eyes, blinking against the morning light.

It took him a second to remember why he wasn’t in the attic. Normally, he’d wake up in his hammock, the sway of it familiar beneath the old beams. But now, he was in the bed within his bedroom below—the one he’d been sharing with Ray for the past few nights. As Ray had mentioned having trouble sleeping. Nightmares, he’d said casually. But there was something in his voice—tight, quiet—that stuck with Yuma afterward. So when Ray suggested they base themselves here, closer to the city, just in case more Shadows of the Barian Emperors appeared... Yuma didn’t hesitate. Staying close just made sense. And sharing the bed? That had just kind of happened. It was supposed to be practical. Simple. But it didn’t feel simple now.

His red eyes shifted to the other side of the bed. The sheets were gently pushed back, the pillow still faintly shaped where Ray had been. He must’ve left early for the university campus—Yuma remembered him saying he had lectures this morning, so that made the most sense. Ray probably hadn’t want to wake him. Still… the space beside him felt strangely cold. Not just from the absence of warmth, but from the absence of him. Yuma stared at the empty side for a long moment, that same ache from the past few mornings settling in again. Quiet. Familiar, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Just a word, a glance–something to hold onto would have been nice–but Ray was already gone.

Yuma slid toward the edge of the bed and stood, stretching with a quiet groan as he shook off the last traces of sleep. No early classes today—one of those rare mornings where he could actually take his time. And he paused for a moment in the quiet before heading into the bathroom. The shower certainly helping to wake him up further and the morning routine of brushing his hair had become so familiar now it was second nature. Having adapted the style of straight, waist-length black hair—marked by two vivid red streaks framing his face that fell smoothly certainly required more care. And he casually ran his fingers through it to better settle the length into place. It was a striking contrast from the spiky style of his youth. Most days he tended to wear it loose, the weight settling comfortably across his shoulders and down his back. But occasionally, when focus called for it, he’d pull it back loosely. However today he wore the typical style, allowing his hair to flow freely, swaying behind him in its usual manner.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Yuma met his own red eyes—familiar, but steadier now, carrying the weight of things the younger version of himself wouldn’t have understood. Yet, he didn’t dwell long on it as he proceeded into his room quickly dressing before making his way downstairs, drawn by the warm scent of breakfast and the familiar clatter of plates. Around the dining table, the usual suspects were already at work—Akari halfway through setting the table, while their grandmother carried out dishes with practiced ease. “Look who’s finally up,” Akari called, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing grin. “Not sleeping in before another important test, I hope.”

“You know I don’t have any classes till the afternoon!” Yuma flailed, pausing for a moment despite already knowing today wasn’t an early day.

“Yeah, yeah. But knowing you, you’d still find a way to sleep through the afternoon,” Akari shot back with a teasing grin.

“Hey!” Yuma exclaimed, before dropping into his seat. “So, what’s for breakfast anyway?”

“It’s Duel Fuel,” Ray’s voice cut in as he stepped into the dining room carrying his own tray filled with the familiar food, a bright smile on his face.

Yuma’s grandmother glanced over from her place, a knowing smile on her lips. “Yuma, your friend is an absolute delight. I even showed him how to make our family recipe—it’s important to me that he learns it properly.”

Akari smirked, folding her arms playfully. “Yeah, Yuma… you could learn a thing or two from him. Grandma could use a break now and then—and I’m not gonna lie, so could I.”

The unspoken message lingered in the air or so both Yuma’s grandmother and Akari hoped. As Ray wasn’t just a guest—he was becoming part of the family. And with someone like him looking out for Yuma, maybe the lonely parts of growing up wouldn’t feel so heavy anymore for him.

“Now, now, Akari… play nice,” Haru said, her gentle smile warm and steady.

Ray stepped forward, bowing slightly as he carried the tray toward the table. “Ah, Mrs. Tsukumo! I’ll finish bringing out the rest—please, have a seat.”

“Ever a darling,” Haru said brightly, settling into her chair and waiting for Ray to disappear back into the kitchen before winking towards Yuma–a twinkle in her eye as she added, “Yuma, this one’s a keeper.”

Yuma’s face flushed a deep red. “Grandma!”

“She’s only stating the obvious,” Akari chimed in, keeping her arms crossed as her smirk deepened. “Someone like Ray could be good for you. Though… I suppose we said the same about…” She faltered, the name hovering unspoken as her eyes dropped briefly.

Akari’s voice softened, the teasing edge replaced by hesitation. “Anyway, are you going to the Campus early today?” she asked quickly, shifting the conversation before the past could hang too heavily in the air.

“Since Ray’s here, I was going to walk him over to the campus,” Yuma began. “But after that, I’m heading over to Heartland Elite Academy to check in on Mizar.”

Ray returned just in time to catch the tail end of that, setting down a tray of freshly squeezed juice and the last of the plates lined with the Tsukumo speciality, Duel Fuel. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you to see Mizar? We could go after my class.”

Yuma hesitated for a split second before waving the offer off with a half-shrug. “Nah, it’s fine. Honestly, I’m not sure how it’s gonna go. Mizar’s not exactly...big on company. Might be better if I go alone—less pressure that way.”

That wasn’t a lie, exactly. Mizar wasn’t the kind of person to open up easily, especially in a crowd. But more than that, Yuma didn’t want to risk Ray picking up on anything—like Kite had. If Mizar could sense even a flicker of what Yuma hadn’t yet put into words–well he didn’t want Ray finding out like that. As if Ray was going to find out about Yuma’s feelings, it had to come from Yuma…

“Well,” Ray said, his voice warm with certainty, “If you change your mind or need backup, I’ve got your back. Just say the word.”

Yuma managed a smile, his gaze catching Ray’s with a flicker of unspoken gratitude. It was always reassuring, comforting—to know Ray was in his corner. “Sure thing, pal! You’ll be the first to know,” Yuma said with a grin, flashing a thumbs-up that couldn’t quite mask the fondness behind it.

Breakfast carried on with light conversation and familiar laughter, the kind that came easy between people who knew each other well. And before long the plates were cleared, goodbyes were exchanged, and Yuma slipped on his jacket, walking with Ray toward campus just as he’d promised. The city air was crisp but pleasant, as was their conversation which consist of a light nature—half-filled with quiet jokes. But in the spaces between words, there was a warmth neither of them named.

Yet, when they finally reached the Campus signaling their parting, Ray suddenly paused. “Ah—Yuma, wait!”

Yuma turned, eyebrows raised as Ray fished into his pocket before pulling out the familiar keycard they’d used two days ago. “You’re gonna need this,” Ray said with a gentle smile, holding it out.

Yuma blinked, then grinned as he took it. “Thanks, Ray. I almost forgot.”

Ray hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering in the air before dropping back to his side. “Good luck, Yuma,” he said, soft but sincere. “I hope your talk with Mizar goes well.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Yuma replied, stepping back with a wave but not quite turning just yet.

Their eyes met again—briefly, quietly—and something passed between them. No big words, no grand gestures. Just a small silence that said more than either was ready to. Then Yuma gave a final smile, pocketed the keycard, and turned to go. Ray stood watching for a moment longer before heading off toward his class, the ghost of a smile still on his lips.

And with that, they parted ways for the time being. Yuma adjusted the strap of his bag and turned toward the direction of Heartland Elite Academy, the now-familiar campus from a few days earlier. The city felt bigger today, somehow—maybe because he was going alone, or maybe because his thoughts were a little louder than usual. But nonetheless he navigated his way through the academy with surprising ease, retracing his steps to the dorm tower where Mizar was staying. The place was quiet this time of day with no students crowding the halls—just the low hum of lights and the soft tap of his footsteps as he made his way to the elevator before ascending to the higher floor.

Yet, when he reached Mizar’s floor, he stopped in front of the door. Hesitation instantly striking as Yuma only stared at the scan panel, heart thudding a little harder than expected. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like this was a high-stakes duel with another Shadow of the Barian Emperors. Nor was he here to challenge Mizar, or confront him given they were no longer on opposite sides. He was just here to check in. To be there, to see if Mizar was okay and maybe see if there was even a space for friendship between them.

But that was the thing he supposed. Yuma didn’t exactly know Mizar well—not really. He’d once been an enemy along with the other Barians and one not to be trifled with and even though that was no longer the case it wasn’t like they’d established a friendship in the past five years. Or even talked that much at that… And for someone like Mizar, who didn’t exactly thrive around humans... Yuma wasn’t even sure how his presence would be perceived without a good reason.

Still, if Kite cared about Mizar–enough to open up about his feelings–and considering Mizar had been through a lot with the confrontation with his own Shadow, then someone should check in on him. So, even if it felt awkward, even if Yuma didn’t really know what he was doing he was going to follow through with this. And with that, Yuma took a breath and raised his hand to knock.

There was a long silence, causing Yuma to shift awkwardly on his feet. Eyes glancing down at the scan card Ray had given him and debating if he’d need to use it again. But just before he could act, there was a soft click, and the door opened. The familiar form of Mizar standing there. His long blond hair falling in front of his shoulders and his sharp blue eyes instantly locking onto Yuma with the intensity of a falcon spotting movement. “Hey, Mizar!” Yuma said, forcing a grin as he rubbed the back of his head. “Just came by to check in! See how you’re doing—you know, after... everything.”

It felt clumsy the second he said it and Mizar's gaze narrowed in kind, scrutinizing him in silence. After a long pause, Mizar turned and walked deeper into the room, his arms folding across his chest as he came to a stop mid-step. “Tell me, Yuma. Are you here because you want to be... or did someone send you?”

The words were cold, clipped. Not defensive—just direct. Like he was testing the sincerity before letting his guard drop. Yuma took a moment to step into the room after him, the door slowly sliding shut behind him as he hesitated for a few second before answering. “No one sent me. This was my choice. I just... wanted to see how you were holding up.”

Mizar tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. “You have no reason to check on me. We’re not friends.”

“Maybe not,” Yuma admitted, hands tucked awkwardly in his jacket pockets. “But I saw Kite yesterday. And since you went out of your way to check on him, I figured—well, it felt right someone should check on you too.”

Mizar’s eyes narrowed more, the faintest flicker of surprise flashing across his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said sharply. “That didn’t mean anything.”

Yuma nodded, not challenging the statement. “Maybe not to you. But it meant something to Kite. So... that’s enough for me. I just think sometimes the people who act like they don’t need anyone... might need someone the most.”

For a moment, Mizar was still. Then—just barely—his lips twitched in something like amusement. “Kite… worried about me?” He let out a short, almost scoffing breath. “Tch. He’s not usually one to concern himself with sentiment.”

There was no sarcasm in the tone—just dry observation. Mizar folded his arms again, gaze angled away like he wasn’t quite ready to let that moment show on his face. “So even Kite is capable of fragile human emotions...” The Galaxy-Eyes Master mused.

Yuma couldn’t quite get a read on Mizar—his expressions were too subtle, his posture too controlled—but maybe the fact that he seemed even a little amused by the idea of Kite having emotions was a good sign. Maybe it meant that, while Mizar wasn’t exactly catching feelings the way Kite seemed to be that he might at least be curious. Even if only in that distant, analytical Mizar way—like he was trying to figure out how someone like Kite could act so far outside the cold, stoic image he usually wore like armor.

“Kite’s capable of a lot of things,” Yuma said, keeping his tone even but genuine. “He’s changed a lot in the past five years. Grown. You saw it yourself, didn’t you? In that duel with your Shadow.”

Mizar didn’t respond, but his eyes narrowed slightly—watching. Listening. “You two could’ve torn each other apart arguing over whose Galaxy-Eyes was stronger,” Yuma continued with a faint smile. “But you didn’t. Kite didn’t try to take control of the fight. He backed you up, trusted you and you trusted him. This isn’t just a rivalry anymore…”

“He trusted me?” Mizar repeated, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “More likely he just didn’t want to lose. He’s too pragmatic to let ego get in the way when the stakes are high.”

Mizar met Yuma’s gaze, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Still... I suppose even pragmatism is a kind of respect.”

Yuma wasn’t sure if that counted as progress—but maybe it didn’t have to be at least not yet. Sometimes it was enough to plant a seed and hope something would grow. Still, he figured if he kept talking about Kite, Mizar would start putting the pieces together. He needed to pivot—prove that this visit wasn’t about trying to help out a friend. “Hey, Mizar—what if we stepped out for a bit?” Yuma asked casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “Grab something to eat, maybe talk? I figured... it’d be nice to hang out. Try to actually get to know each other.”

Mizar's sharp gaze fixed on him, unreadable. Slowly unfolding his arms as his head tilted ever so slightly. Then, a half-smirk ghosted across his face—wry, but not unfriendly. “You’re surprisingly persistent for someone so impulsive.”

Yuma shrugged, undeterred. “I’m just not the type to give up that easily. I think we could be really good friends Mizar!”

Mizar exhaled—almost a laugh, almost a sigh and nodded. “Very well. But don’t expect me to start calling you ‘friend’ by the end of the day.”

Yuma grinned, bright and easy. “No pressure. One step at a time.”

Yuma bounced on the balls of his feet, barely containing his excitement. “Okay, so—Waffles. Like, the best waffles you’ll ever eat. I’m serious, you have to try it!”

Mizar raised an eyebrow. “Waffles? You expect me to leave my dorm for... syrup-drenched carbs?”

“Not just any waffles!” Yuma grinned. “They’ve got all these wild toppings—fruit, chocolate, whipped cream—and the vibe is super chill. Me and Ray go there all the time. It’s basically a sacred tradition now.”

Mizar smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “So you’re dragging me out for a dessert disguised as breakfast.”

“Exactly!” Yuma beamed before quickly added, “I mean—I’m dragging you out for breakfast with personality. Trust me, it’s food for the soul!”

Mizar gave him a long, skeptical look before letting out a quiet, almost theatrical sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if I’m going to be subjected to excessive sugar and your enthusiasm, the least you can do is pay.”

Yuma laughed, already half-turned toward the door. “Deal! You’re definitely gonna thank me later.”

Yuma led the way out of the dorm building, the morning sun casting long shadows as they walked side by side through the bustling campus. His steps were light, almost skipping with excitement, while Mizar followed with his usual measured pace, gaze cool but quietly attentive. The pair making their way out of the university setting and into the Heartland city streets, following along until those very streets gradually gave way to a cozier area where the familiar little cafe was tucked around one of the city street’s corners. The sign above the door promising as usual for sweet delights. A faint hum of chatter and clinking dishes drifting out as Yuma opened the door for Mizar. The pair heading in and finding themselves immediately greeted by the comforting warmth and rich aroma of waffles and freshly brewed coffee.

Yuma didn’t hesitate as he led Mizar to a small corner table by the window, pulling out a chair before settling in himself. The warm light from the outside filtering through the glass and casting a soft glow over the cozy cafe. The pair taking a few moments to peruse the menu. Yuma’s eyes practically sparkling as he enthusiastically explained the different waffle toppings and syrup combinations, eager to share his favorite combinations with hopefully his new friend. Mizar taking careful consideration afterwards as he studied the menu, slow and determined with a deliberate gaze. Seeming to weigh each option carefully as his sharp eyes flicked over the choices as if calculating the best move in a duel rather than ordering breakfast.

“Not the easiest decision, huh?” Yuma teased.

Mizar’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk. “You could say that.”

Finally, they both placed their orders, and soon the smell of freshly made waffles began to fill the air. Moments later, a server arrived with two plates of fluffy golden waffles dripping with syrup and topped with fresh fruit and whipped cream. Yuma didn’t hesitate, digging in with enthusiasm despite having already eaten breakfast with Ray and his family—his boundless energy always keeping his appetite steady. Mizar, on the other hand, sat back eyes flickering toward his plate with an unreadable expression. “So?” Yuma grinned, waiting for Mizar’s verdict.

Mizar’s gaze lingered on the waffles longer than expected before, in a quiet, almost reluctant motion, he took a small bite. His expression remained stoic at first, but then—just barely—a flicker of something like fondness crossed his features. “Not that I need this anymore,” Mizar said dryly. “But I suppose... there’s a certain... appeal.”

Yuma’s grin widened. “See? Even a Barian can’t resist a good waffle.”

Mizar’s smirk softened, the faintest trace of warmth breaking through his usual aloofness. “Seems the quirks of being human persist, even when they should have long since faded.”

Yuma made a mental note: Mizar’s sweet tooth could definitely come in handy—whether it was for Kite’s sake, if things between him and Mizar ever developed beyond rivalry, or simply as a thoughtful way to say thanks for the Barian serum that was given to help Kite recover. But if he wanted to truly help Kite, he’d need to gather a little more intel. Grinning, Yuma leaned forward. “Hey, Mizar, so how about that duel—the Duel against your Shadow was amazing! When Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon evolved into Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon? That was seriously epic!”

Mizar’s sharp eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “The XYZ evolved summon? Just a situational strategy. Tachyon alone is more than enough.”

Yuma raised an eyebrow, teasing lightly. “Sure, sure—but you’ve gotta admit, Transcendence has style. A good team—just like you and Kite! You guys should work together more often.”

Mizar shrugged, cool as ever. “Style? Maybe. But don’t mistake showmanship for substance... Power and precision determine the outcome. Tachyon embodies both.”

Yuma laughed, shaking his head slightly. It was clear he wasn’t going to win this argument, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t making progress. After all, this was the most he’d ever talked to Mizar, and it felt like they might actually be taking the first steps toward something like friendship. Yuma pushed to keep the small talk going as they enjoyed their waffles, until the sudden buzz of his Duel Gazer cut through the moment. Reaching into his pocket, Yuma equipped the device just as an alert flashed across the screen: INCOMING TRANSMISSION: RAY.

His heart rate spiked, worry tightening its grip. Without hesitation, Yuma tapped to accept the call. The holographic screen flickered, revealing Ray’s serious, urgent expression. “Yuma, we’ve got trouble,” Ray said, voice steady but urgent. “Another Shadow has manifested.”

Yuma straightened immediately; the lightness drained from his tone. “Where?”

“I’m sending you the coordinates now. I’m already here with Shark and Dumon,” Ray replied, eyes narrowing. “But you need to hurry—can Mizar get you both here?”

Yuma glanced at Mizar, who had gone still, his usual relaxed arrogance sharpening into focused intensity. The newly restored Barian gave a slight nod. “We’re on our way!” Yuma said, standing quickly. “Ray… be careful.”

“You too, Yuma,” came the reply, calm but charged with unspoken concern.

Chapter Text

The wind whispered across the cracked white stone of the Shrine of the Ascended, brushing past fractured angelic sculptures and dimmed chrome linings. It stood atop the outer mesa, one of Heartland City’s natural highland plateaus. The shrine had once stood for clarity and discipline. Now, it stood forgotten–an echo of beliefs discarded by time. At the center of the platform, Dumon stood motionless–posture rigid, eyes fixed on the horizon. Beside him, equally silent but steady, stood Shark, arms folded and gaze sharp. No words passed between them. None were needed. Shark wasn’t there to second-guess Dumon as a Duelist–he was there to stand by the man he loved, whether that meant battling at his side or watching from the edge.

A little farther back, Ray shifted uneasily, his eyes scanning the still air. The tension wasn’t fear it was expectation, thick and pressing. The calm before the expected storm when the next Shadow emerged. His thoughts broke as a flicker of light was caught out of the corner of his eye. A Barian portal spiraling open a little ways away, particles swirling with familiar energy. Mizar stepped out first, composed as ever, casually flicking his long blond hair from his shoulder. But Ray barely noticed, his focus snapped to the figure that emerged right after.

Yuma.

“Yuma!” Ray called out, immediately breaking into a run.

“Hey, Ray~” Yuma replied with a grin, lifting one hand in a lazy wave. “Did we make it on time?”

Ray reached him in seconds, nodding slightly while about to say something, but the chance never came. From across the shrine, Dumon and Shark were already approaching. Dumon’s voice was calm as ever, the weight of it cutting gently through the wind.
“Mizar.”

“Dumon,” Mizar replied, his tone more reserved than usual, respectful. “So, we are dealing with your Shadow, then?”

He hadn’t needed to ask. The answer had already taken shape in his mind, but Dumon gave a small nod. “Yes. That’s right. I sensed it not—”

Dumon didn’t get the chance to finish as a sharp mechanical whine pierced the air above them, growing louder by the second. “DESCENT INITIATED! STABILIZERS ENGAGED! Master Kite, prepare for landing—”

Orbital-7 blazed down from the sky, jet thrusters flaring as he slowed his speed just enough for a smooth drop. Kite landed with precision, his coat snapping in the crosswind as his boots hit the stone platform. He moved forward without pause, eyes sweeping the group–calculating, reading. Then they stopped, falling directly on Mizar before shifting over to Yuma. “You two came here together?” Kite asked, voice cool and clipped. The edge in his tone wasn’t sharp enough to be accusatory, but it carried a weight behind it–the sound of something he hadn’t expected.

“That’s right,” Yuma said with a nod, his tone casual but not flippant.

Kite narrowed his eyes slightly. “...Since when do you two… hang out?”

The question wasn’t sharp more confused than anything else. Coming from Kite, that was practically emotional. “Yuma went to check on Mizar,” Ray offered, stepping in, his voice calm but quietly insistent. “After the encounter with his Shadow. He wanted to make sure Mizar was okay.”

Kite’s gaze moved between them again Yuma, Ray, Mizar before settling on Mizar with a dry frown. “You don’t usually let people follow you around,” he said bluntly.

“I don’t,” Mizar replied without hesitation.

“See? I’m full of surprises!” Yuma grinned brightly, throwing a thumbs up towards himself. “Me and Mizar are becoming fast friends!”

Ray let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “Mm. That’s one word for it.”

Yuma could only blink in confusion at the teasing. “Huh?”

But Ray just smiled, eyes drifting away with practiced innocence, leaving Yuma squinting at him in confusion. Forcing Yuma to give his head a good shake before moving past it to look around the shrine. An expression of further bewilderment becoming apparent. “So... where is the Shadow?” Yuma asked, frowning. “I thought it’d be here already.”

“As I was trying to explain earlier,” Dumon said, stepping forward with calm purpose, “I’ve felt something gathering here. A pressure. It’s only natural to presume that my Shadow intends to manifest at this site.”

Even as he spoke, the air seemed to shift, just slightly. A sudden, distant hum stirring across the shrine’s surface, too soft to place, too deep to be the wind. Yuma looked around again, then smirked slightly. “Well...it’s certainly nice of your Shadow to let us all get together first,” he joked.

The attempt at humor hung in the air for a moment, not quite drawing a laugh, but cutting the tension just enough to earn a few amused smiles–but then the atmosphere shifted.

A low hum now stirring beneath their feet, subtle, but unnatural. The wind seeming to stop suddenly as well–as shadows stretched across the stone, crawling just a little too far. Above them, the clouds darkened, as though something far greater was drawing near. And at the shrine’s center, the shadows thickened, not reaching outward but collapsing inwards forming a silhouette they all recognized.

The Shadow of Dumon had finally appeared.

Identical in appearance to Dumon’s true Barian form, the figure emerged in full:
Wisteria-toned skin with short gray hair and two symmetrical blue markings along his face. Silver armor lined with softly glowing blue gems, unbroken and pristine accenting his form. And the Barian Emblem placed on the right side of his chest as striking as ever. The Shadow’s face was calm. His posture remained flawless and those gray, pupil-less eyes locked straight onto Dumon as he advanced.

Dumon didn’t flinch. He began to step forward, shoulders squared, but a familiar hand caught his own, firm but not forceful. “Dumon… are you sure about this?” Shark asked quietly.

There was no hesitation in his tone, no intent to stop him. Only the need to ask. To be certain. Shark’s expression was sharp but earnest and it spoke volumes. He wouldn’t challenge Dumon’s decision, he simply needed to know that the man he loved was walking into this with open eyes and a steady heart. As Shark fully understanding Dumon’s sentiments on the matter, given they had discussed this matter privately beforehand. On how they would like to handle their respectable Shadow situation when they emerged and Dumon had been more than clear that he needed to face this alone. To prove, at last, that he was worthy, not just as Dumon, not just as a Barian, but as Nasch’s knight, and the man who had once failed to protect both him and Marin. The guilt from his duel with Vector having never fully left him, even after five long years later.

And Nasch knew that… But even so he had never seen Dumon as weak–only hurt. And he would never let Dumon face the future with such shame. If he stood by Dumon’s side, it wasn’t out of doubt, it was because he wanted to. Still, he wouldn’t take that decision from him. “It has to be this way, Nasch,” Dumon said, voice low almost pleading. “Please…let me restore my honor. As your friend, as your knight and as the man you love.”

For a moment, Nasch held his gaze. Then, slowly, his grip loosened. His hand shifting to his deck case, a soft click sounding as he opened it and drew out two cards. “Then at least take these,” he said, holding them out. “And know I am with you.”

Dumon looked down at the cards now resting in his hands, Number 101: Silent Honor ARK and Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK. He held them gently, knowing he didn’t need words, the weight of the gesture said enough. But before he could turn away, Nasch stepped forward, closing the space between them. Without a word, he pulled Dumon into a firm, quiet embrace. Then, leaning in, he pressed a brief but steady kiss to Dumon’s lips. Dumon blinked, the faintest blush rising to his cheeks, but he didn’t pull away. He returned the kiss, his hand brushing lightly against Nasch’s arm, steadying himself on the moment. “You’ve got this,” Nasch said, his voice low. “And when it’s over… I’ll be here.”

Dumon nodded, silent but certain. The moment lingering–quiet and sure.

Off to the side, Yuma watched, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He stood beside Ray, close enough their shoulders nearly touched, but his heart felt distant, aching in silence. Longing to have that, the knowing, the ability to stand with someone not just as a friend, but as more. To share that tenderness, and no longer have to keep it locked away. His red eyes couldn’t help but flicker towards Ray. The Barian’s violet gaze was fixed ahead, locked on the Shadow rather than the couple before them, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants–so close, and yet so far away. The ache in Yuma’s chest could only deepen as he let his gaze fall.

And then… he felt it. A hand slipping gently into his own. Yuma blinked in surprise, eyes dropping to find Ray’s fingers intertwining softly with his. When he looked up again, Ray was still watching the center of the shrine, his expression composed, but… softer. As if he’d felt Yuma’s unease without ever turning his head. Yuma said nothing. He wasn’t sure his voice would come out steady. But he didn’t pull away either. He just held on, the quiet contact grounding him as something warm settled in his chest.

On the other side of the group, Kite stood a little removed, arms folded tightly over his chest. His gaze had lingered too long on Dumon and Nasch—on their certainty, their unspoken understanding, the ease with which they held one another. Then came that subtle motion in the corner of his eye. He turned to see Yuma and Ray. Hands lightly entwined. No confession, no kiss, but somehow more intimate than both. It was mutual, safe, known and for Kite, that difference hit like a blow. It carved the space between them and him into something deeper than distance.

Kite’s eyes couldn’t help but shift towards Mizar. The Barian stood tall, attention fixed forward, every inch of him honed in on the looming threat at the heart of the shrine. He hadn’t seen. Or if he had, he hadn’t it hadn’t registered in any way that suggested longing or reflection. There was no flicker of response, no subtle glance, no trace of awareness. It wasn’t indifference. It was absence. Especially, when it came to human vulnerability, to the quiet ache of wanting someone to choose you…he simply didn’t grasp it.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because Kite understood. He knew exactly what that kind of closeness meant, and because of that, it left him wanting—wanting to know what it might feel like to reach out and have someone reach back. And yet, the person he wanted that from didn’t even see the reaching. It felt light-years away. Maybe more than that. Maybe impossible. And that frustrated him. He’d never imagined himself caught in this kind of turmoil—especially not over his rival, Mizar.

Kite’s gaze had lingered a moment too long. Mizar’s blue eyes drifted over, not out of intention but instinct, some subtle shift in the air had caught his attention. A flicker in energy, perhaps. And then he saw it: Kite was staring at him. Not challenging. Not calculating. Just… staring. There was something unfamiliar in the expression. Quiet. Introspective. Wounded? No. That didn’t make sense. Kite was as focused and prideful as ever. Wasn’t he? Mizar told himself to disregard it, but he didn’t forget it, instead choosing to file it away as unresolved. Not fully understanding what he’d seen–at least…not yet.

The silence held, suspended between questions left unspoken and feelings neither voiced nor fully understood. But the air was still changing, growing heavier by the moment. The flickering tension that had momentarily dispersed beginning to coil again, drawing all attention back to the shrine’s center. The moment had passed, and all eyes returned to Dumon, who stepped forward from Shark’s side to face his Shadow. A new determination burned in his grey eyes, the weight of Nasch’s belief behind him, and the signature cards of his partner resting firmly in his grasp before he shifted them into his extra deck.

The Shadow, seeing its challenger step forward, raised its arm—a Duel Disk materializing with a flicker of energy. Dumon responded in kind, equipping his own Duel Disk and allowing one of the lenses on his glasses to shift smoothly into Duel Gazer mode. Around them, the onlookers each made their preparations. Yuma and Shark donned their Duel Gazers, while one of Ray’s and Mizar’s eyes shifted to red, a mark of their restored Barian states. Kite’s own Duel Gazer activated as well—through his Photon Mode tattoo the blue of its colour outlining his left eye as it turned red, ready to observe. They were all ready to witness what was about to unfold. “Go on. You may take the first move,” the Shadow of Dumon said, its voice calm, measured. “It’s only right, that you be the one to prove yourself first, by showing me what five years of regret have taught you.”

Dumon drew a steady breath, his fingers resting lightly on the top of his deck. For a brief moment, in the silence, his gaze shifted sideways—to Nasch, standing tall among the onlookers. Just seeing him there was grounding. Steadying. And yet, beneath that reassurance, something pulled at Dumon’s pride. A whisper of old failure. A memory that still hadn’t lost its sting.

‘I have to do this. For him...and for me.’

He took another breath before his hand moved with practiced ease, the motions automatic, but his resolve was anything but. There was weight behind it now. Not just to win… but to reclaim a part of himself still bruised by the past. “Then I draw,” Dumon declared, pulling a card from his deck with fluid confidence. “I’ll start by Summoning Star Seraph Sage.”

As soon as the card was placed, a radiant blue object shimmered into view suspended in midair accented in gold. “Now, I activate Star Seraph Sage’s effect. By discarding one Spell Card from my hand,” Dumon said, sliding the card into the Graveyard slot with elegant finality, “—I can Special Summon Star Seraph Sword from my hand.”

Once more as the second monster card registered onto the duel disk a unique looking golden sword had appeared beside, Star Seraph Sage. “I now overlay my two Level 4 monsters—Star Seraph Sage and Sword!” Dumon exclaimed raising his hand as twin spirals of light twisted upward, converging into a swirling gate of cosmic energy. “And Xyz Summon—Number 101: Silent Honor ARK!”

From the overlay network a white mechanical ark accented in blue descended onto the field. Dumon’s eyes softening just slightly, as the familiar form of Nasch’s card rose to his field in his defence. Some form of security and comfort coming from it and feeling as if Nasch were battling with him, even if Dumon had asked to face this threat alone. “Now,” Dumon continued, voice steady, “I activate Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force!”

He held the Spell Card high as the air around Silent Honor ARK fractured like glass, the Overlay Network flaring open once more. “By rebuilding the Overlay Network, I Xyz Summon Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK!”

Silent Honor ARC shifting into energy shooting back up into the Overlay Network, before a new entity emerge. That of Silent Honor DARK, a black armoured form accented in red with a lance descending in its place. Dumon taking a moment to quietly reassure himself, ‘I’ll prove myself, not because I have to...but because I want to.’

“I set one card and with that I end my turn.”

“That’s it. Take control of the field like I know you can,” Nasch said, his voice calm but firm, staying close–a quiet pillar of support.

Dumon’s eyes flicked back at the words, and though his expression remained composed, a subtle warmth touched his cheeks–the softest flush of pink. He turned forward again, bolstered by the encouragement, his resolve tightening as the onlookers added their voices. “Having Silent Honor DARK on the field is just like having Nasch standing in to protect Dumon,” Ray commented softly, his gaze calm but attentive. “And with its effect, as long as it holds an Overlay Unit, even if its destroyed in battle it’ll return to field and restore Dumon’s Life Points equal to its own attack points at that.”

“It’s a clean execution,” Kite added, tone analytical, but something in his eyes showed respect and maybe a bit more.

“Yeah! Dumon’s got this one in the bag!” Yuma grinned, fist punching the air in his usual burst of infectious enthusiasm.

Mizar offered a slight nod, arms crossed as he regarded the field with approval. “Show him you're not to be underestimated, Dumon,” he said, voice cool, but the support in it unmistakable.

“Your friends believe in you…but is that enough to secure victory?” the Shadow of Dumon replied evenly, its tone calm but edged with something colder. “My turn. I draw.”

The Shadow drew its card with precision, holding it briefly between two fingers. “I summon Star Seraph Scout.”

A dark, avian form materialized on the field–a sleek black, bird-like construct accented in gold, its wings pulsing with faint violet light. “When Star Seraph Scout is summoned, its effect allows me to Special Summon Star Seraph Sovereignty.”

From beside Scout’s place on the field, a throne-like structure shimmered into existence–regal, metallic brown with golden embellishments, floating just above the ground like a monument to silent authority. “Now Sovereignty’s effect activates,” the Shadow continued, its voice still composed. “I add Star Seraph Scale to my hand and immediately summon it.”

A golden scale appeared next, its form rotating slightly in the air as if constantly weighing judgment itself. “Now I overlay my Star Seraph Scout, Sovereignty, and Scale—with them, I construct the Overlay Network!” The Shadow raised its hand as the monsters shattered into radiant fragments, spiraling upward into a dimensional gate. “I Xyz Summon Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry!“

Descending from the overlay vortex came a gleaming, angelic figure–elegant and humanoid, adorned in white and wearing gold plating, its bow shimmering with celestial energy. But the Shadow wasn’t finished. “Now I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force! I rebuild the Overlay Network…”

The golden seraph dissolved again into raw energy, rising upward. “And Chaos Xyz Summon—Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph!“

The light twisted, darkened and from it emerged a warped reflection of the noble form. Armor now dark blue and steel gray, veined with glowing crimson threads that pulsed outward from the chest and face. In one hand, it wielded a brutal lance, and from its head, twin rigid, horn-like wings extended dramatically. It stood silently on the field posed to strike, but the Shadow had another move in mind first. Choosing to slip a spell card from its hand into the set position, it declared with unnerving calm. “I activate the Spell Xyz Eviction. This Spell card detaches all the Xyz Overlay Units of your monsters and sends them to the graveyard. It also forces your Xyz monster to return to your Extra Deck, while you take damage equal to the total attack points of all the detached materials.”

“Oh no–that’s not good!” Yuma exclaimed.

Ray’s expression sharpened as he did the math aloud. “Star Seraph Sage had 1600 ATK, Star Seraph Sword had 1400, and Silent Honor ARK was 2100… That’s 5100 damage straight to Dumon’s Life Points.”

Shark’s fists clenched at his sides. 5100. More than enough to end it. He felt his pulse spike, a sharp instinctual fear rising—but he caught it, wrestling it back down. His eyes never leaving the field. “He’s not gonna lose.” His voice was low, but solid. Unshakable, because he knew Dumon. Knew the way he fought when it mattered. And more than that—he believed in him.

Mizar nodded once, arms folded tightly across his chest. “I echo Nasch’s sentiment,” he said, his voice steady. “Dumon will rise. He always does.”

Ray didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the duel, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere—drawn back to a past that still cast long shadows. “…I hope, for his sake, you’re right,” he said at last, voice low. Not cruel, just doubtful–and maybe… a little haunted.

All eyes turned to Dumon, waiting to see how he would respond. His voice remained calm, steady and even as his own cards were used against him. “I activate the Quick-Play Spell Card, Seraph’s Grace, from my Graveyard,” he declared. “By banishing it, the damage I take is halved.”

The towering 5100 points of damage dropped to 2550 in a flash, but even halved, the hit was brutal. Dumon was blasted backwards, the impact visibly shaking him—but before he could hit the ground hard, Nasch was already there. With fluid urgency, Nasch had surged forward and caught Dumon mid-fall, arms wrapping around him in a firm, grounding embrace. For a fleeting second, the duel faded, replaced by the quiet shelter of that moment. Dumon’s eyes flickering open–weariness behind their calm, but they softened as he met the familiar, unwavering gaze of the one who held him. “I’m okay,” Dumon murmured, steadying himself as he stood once more.

Nasch rose alongside him, his expression unreadable but the way he lingered just a moment longer by Dumon’s side made the truth clear. He knew he couldn’t shield Dumon from everything…but he would shield him from anything he could. Yet, their moment was broken by the cold voice of the Shadow. “Perhaps you are—for now. But Archfiend Seraph now attacks you directly. You’ve fought with honor… but it was not enough.”

The Shadow raised its hand, voicing its final command absolute. “This is the moment for your goodbyes. Archfiend Seraph—attack him directly!”

Archfiend Seraph did not hesitate, launching its assault with ruthless precision. A thick cloud of smoke erupting from the point of impact, obscuring the battlefield. “Dumon!!” Yuma shouted, his voice cracking with concern as he stepped forward, trying to peer through the haze.

Mizar stood motionless, posture rigid and composed. But a flicker of unease betrayed his usual stoic demeanor. His sharp blue eyes scanning the lingering smoke, searching for any sign of movement. And after a tense pause, he muttered under his breath, “Dumon…”

The name left his lips quietly, a rare crack in his normally unshakable presence. Amidst the tension, Kite observed Mizar closely. Most wouldn’t have noticed the signs—but the slight furrow of the blondes brow or even the brief clenching of his jaw–but Kite had.

Mizar was worried. And somehow, that only deepened the ache in Kite’s chest. Without saying a word, he stepped just slightly closer—close enough that Mizar would feel his presence even if he didn’t acknowledge it. A silent gesture. Support, steadiness. An attempt to be there, even if he didn’t know how to be there the way he wanted to. And all the while knowing he couldn’t even be sure Mizar would understand the meaning. But he hoped, maybe, he'd feel it anyway.

Mizar’s eyes glanced sideways for just a second—catching the shift in proximity. He didn’t comment, but something subtle passed through his expression: confusion. Yet the Barian said nothing, casting his gaze forward once more—quietly wondering why Kite was acting noticeably different… and for the second time today. He didn’t understand it at all.

The silence stretched. Smoke still hanging in the air—thick and unmoving, as though time itself had stalled. And then—Nasch’s fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body tightening and unmistakable. His gaze stayed fixed on the fading point where Dumon had stood only moments ago beside him—alive, determined, unwavering. “DUMON!”

His voice tore through the haze—raw, unguarded, desperate. As if just saying the name could bring him back. Nasch’s hands reaching blindly through the smoke, grasping at the empty air, searching for any trace of Dumon. His desperation growing with every breath. The silence only seeming to thicken—held taut by the unknown, almost taunting him. And through it, the Shadow loomed. Tall. Composed. Merciless. A look of disappointment twisting its otherwise calm expression as it observed the aftermath of its assault. “So this is what five years has given you…” it began, voice slow and deliberate. “…A pity.”

Chapter Text

The smoke refused to clear. It clung to the air like a curse—thick, choking, and unmoving. Nasch remaining desperate in his movements, his hands still outstretched, fingers curling in desperation for anything. No voice answered his call. No shape emerged. Only silence, and the heavy echo of his own scream lingering in the void. His breathing becoming sharp, ragged. Something in his chest threatening to break open. And then—his body shifted. He turned slowly, smoke clearing enough for his gaze to fall on the Shadow still poised across the field. Cold. Untouched. Watching. “You made a big mistake!” Nasch said threateningly, venom curling behind every word.

His hand was already reaching for his duel disk, but from somewhere in the now clearing smoke, a shape stirred. Causing Nasch to instantly freeze, eyes widening. A weakened cough came as Dumon’s form began to take shape—one knee on the ground, shaking one hand planted in the dirt while the other remained outstretched. A little bit of blood trailing from his temple and a deep bruise across his side from the contact of where he’d hit—but his eyes were open. And they found Nasch.

In that moment, the Shadow no longer mattered. Nasch’s rage slowly dissolved as Dumon registered in his mind and became the only thing worth focusing on. “I told you,” Dumon said weakly, forcing his breath to steady. “I’m not leaving you… not again.”

On the holographic duel display, Dumon’s Life Points were still up, holding at 1. His hand trembling as it hovered outstretched towards a glowing card. “My trap activates,” he announced. “Seraphic Last Light. If I’m about to take damage that would reduce my Life Points to zero and I control no monsters, this card lets me survive the attack with one Life Point—and ends the Battle Phase.”

He tried to draw himself up, but collapsed back again, too weak to stand. Nasch surging forward, catching him in an instant. His arms wrapping around Dumon like a shield. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. But the way he held Dumon, forehead pressed to his, body curling slightly inward to protect what mattered most—said enough.

Yuma’s heart slammed against his ribs. The moment was raw, unfiltered, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d always known Shark was strong—too strong, sometimes. Cold, even. But seeing him like this, wide open, afraid and almost breaking—it made something twist painfully in Yuma’s chest. As the thoughts, ‘That could be me…’ surfaced.

He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking until he clenched them tighter. Ray’s face flashed through his mind—his smile, his steadiness, the way he always said Yuma’s name like it meant something. Yuma had never told him how he felt despite how he wanted too. How he meant too. But every time, the words got caught in his throat as an intense fear set in. As, what if it ruined everything? What if Ray didn’t feel the same? What if—

What if he didn’t get the chance?

Watching Nasch cling to Dumon like that—that was what Yuma feared most. Maybe even more than rejection. The chance of loss. A cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck. The fear settling in his chest like a stone. “…I don’t want to lose him,” he whispered, barely audible—even to himself.

Not like this. Not without saying it. And while it seemed as if his own panic would not be quelled–he suddenly felt something, quiet and almost like an afterthought but still there and very much real. A light touch. Not even a full hand, just Ray’s fingers brushing against his wrist. Causing Yuma to glance sideways, startled at first given he hadn’t even noticed Ray stepped closer. But there he was—still and quiet, his expression unreadable, his eyes still looking straight ahead at the field, the faintest crease between his brows betraying his own worry. His own fear. But beneath that—there was something else, maybe a steadiness? Ray didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. The warmth in the gesture had always been enough. But Yuma choose to take it a step further slowly sliding his hand into Ray’s, holding on for the support he didn’t realize he needed until now.

Behind them, someone else stood just as still and just as silent. Kite’s arms were crossed over his chest, his posture rigid but uneasy. His gaze wasn’t fixed on Dumon or Nasch, it was still on Mizar. Or rather the way Mizar didn’t move. The other Barian stood like a statue, watching Dumon and Nasch without blinking. His face was unreadable—but Kite had seen him enough times now to know what tension looked like beneath that polished exterior. The faint narrowing of his eyes. The slight downturn of his lips. It wasn’t indifference, it was worry.

Dumon was Mizar’s friend—arguably his closest and for someone like Mizar that was saying a lot. Kite could understand the feeling Mizar was likely experiencing, worrying over his friend's well being. After all, Kite had lived it and he still did. He was always constantly worrying over his brother, Hart. He’d nearly lost his brother more times than he wanted to count. But now this new worry was different. This was about Mizar. Someone who never needed saving. Someone who never let anyone in. Except… maybe he had. Just enough for the idea of losing Dumon to feel real.

Kite looked away, jaw tightening. He couldn’t say it either—not yet. Not to Mizar. But the thought lingered like an ache in his ribs. If that were him in Nasch’s place, how would he have handled this?

“You don’t have to do this.”

Nasch’s voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone’s focus back to the Duel. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”

Dumon exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before meeting Nasch’s again. “I can do this,” he said, tightening his grip on Nasch’s arm.

Nasch stared at him, conflict flickering behind his eyes. But then he nodded once, helping Dumon back onto his feet before stepping back. “Then I feel sorry for your Shadow,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “Having to face you.”

He wasn’t just standing behind Dumon—he was standing with him. Across the field, the Shadow remained motionless, watching them with flat, unreadable eyes. “…I end my turn,” it said at last.

With that, the Duel was back on.

Dumon took a moment to steady himself, adjusting his glasses with calm precision before placing a hand to his deck. “Then it’s my turn—I draw!”

The card slid free, and Dumon’s eyes narrowed as he perceived it with a slight nod, his resolve refusing to waver. He wasn’t here just to survive, he was here to prove something. To himself and to the one he stood beside that he had grown stronger. That he deserved to stand at Nasch’s side—not just as his knight, but as his partner and that if it came down to it, he could protect him—and Marin, too in the future. “I activate Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One!” Dumon declared, raising his hand high. “I call forth Number 101: Silent Honor ARK!”

The sleek form of Nasch’s signature monster reappeared, gliding into position on the filed. “Now, I overlay Number 101: Silent Honor ARK to build the Overlay Network!” Dumon continued, his voice stronger now. “Return once more—Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK!”

The familiar vortex surged open above the field, pulling in Silent Honor ARK’s form as particles of light spiraling upward. From the center, a new form emerged—sleek, dark, refined as once more Silent Honor DARK stood on the field. “I activate Silent Honor DARK’s special ability!” Dumon declared. “I attach Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph to my monster as an Overlay Unit!”

In an instant the Shadow’s monster disappeared into particles soaring over to Silent Honor DARK to float around it and serve as its Chaos Overlay Unit. “That’s it, Dumon! Way to think on your toes!” Yuma shouted, his voice breaking through the tension like sunlight.

Ray, standing beside him still, tilted his head with a thoughtful smile. “With Archfiend Seraph acting as a Chaos Overlay Unit… it’s almost like Dumon is serving as Nasch’s knight. Shielding him. Ensuring his return.”

Yuma blinked. He hadn’t thought of it like that—but now that Ray said it… Yeah. It did feel like more than just a smart play. The move echoing now with an almost silent symbolism. Dumon wasn’t just defending his side of the field—he was sending a message. A vow. A promise to the one he loved that they would always fight side by side. That he would stand with Nasch—and for him no matter the cost.

A quiet warmth flickered behind Dumon’s steady eyes as he raised his hand once more. “Now—Silent Honor DARK, attack him directly!”

The monster didn’t hesitate as it launched its assault, the Shadow’s life points dropping from 4000 to 1200 in a single strike. But the Shadow of Dumon remained there unflinching, ready.

“And with that,” Dumon said, lowering his arm with calm finality, “I end my turn.”

Without a word, the Shadow of Dumon moved a hand to its deck. “My move. I draw,” it announced coldly, eyes scanning the card before sliding it seamlessly into place. “I summon Star Seraph Scout, and activate its effect to immediately Special Summon Star Seraph Sword.”

The two respective monsters manifested on Shadow Dumon’s field, who had barely paused before continuing its turn. “Now, I overlay Star Seraph Scout and Star Seraph Sword! I build the Overlay Network to Xyz Summon—Number 44: Sky Pegasus!”

The two monsters dissolved into spiraling motes of light, vanishing into the vortex. From above, a brilliant winged beast descended—a majestic white horse with accents of blue flying in to take its place on the field. “I now activate Sky Pegasus’s special ability,” the Shadow said. “By detaching one Overlay Unit, I can target and destroy your monster… unless you pay 1000 Life Points.”

“Which you do not possess,” The Shadow added, looking across the field at Dumon.

Sky Pegasus reared up as it’s special effect activated, Silent Honor DARK once more vanishing from the field but this time, Dumon didn’t flinch. “I activate Silent Honor DARK’s effect!” he shouted. “Because it was destroyed while it still had Chaos Overlay Units, it returns to my field—and I gain Life Points equal to its ATK!”

A swirling vortex appeared from the field as once more Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK re-emerged, its lance glowing brightly as a swirl of particles enveloped Dumon, his life points shooting up from the critical number of 1 to 2801.

Yuma grinned wide. “Yeah! He’s not done yet!”

The Shadow remained unmoved, sliding another card into its duel disk. “I activate the Spell Card: Seraphic Eclipse – Dark Exchange,” it declared. “This card switches the Attack Points of our monsters—and then halves yours. The amount it loses is then added to mine.”

Dumon’s eyes narrowed as the numbers flickered on the holographic displays. Instantly his monster, Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK’s 2800 were replaced by that of Number 44: Sky Pegasus’ 1800, before being slashed down to a measly 900 attack points. While on the side of field Shadow Dumon’s Number 44: Sky Pegasus’ attack points had become 2800, before the 900 was added to total to 3700 attack points. “You must know what’s coming next,” the Shadow of Dumon said flatly. “Sky Pegasus—attack Silent Honor DARK!”

Without hesitation, the gleaming Pegasus surged forward with its attack. Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK, shattering into fragments of light before vanishing from the field for good. The force of the impact slammed into Dumon, and his body jerked from the blow. His Life Points dropping again—this time by 2800 and sinking back to the measly amount of 1. Nasch’s fists only clenched at his sides in response, tension etched deeply into his face. Watching Dumon endure that pain again, twisted something sharp in his chest. But still, Dumon stood. Shoulders heaving, legs shaking–somehow still on his feet. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Across the field, the Shadow’s expression didn’t change. “That ends my turn,” it said coldly. “Struggle if you want—but with no monsters on your field and one card in your hand, there is nothing left you can do to turn this Duel around.”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Nasch cut in firmly, deep blue eyes locked on Dumon. “If he thinks this is the end, he doesn’t know you at all!”

Dumon’s gray eyes flicked back toward him, a quiet softness in them. He smiled—just a little, but that look said everything. He wasn’t alone and Nasch wasn’t the only one standing behind him. “Dumon,” Mizar said, voice low but unwavering. “This Duel’s not over until you decide it is.”

“Yeah, Dumon! You totally got this!” Yuma added, throwing a fist into the air. “Time for one of those epic comebacks!”

“If anyone can push through that kind of pressure, it’s you,” Kite said. His tone was calm, but there was something firm behind it—respect. “So commit. Do what needs to be done.”

Ray remained quiet his gaze steady on Dumon, but he didn’t speak choosing to elect for a simple nod. And yet, just under his breath–soft but not lost he murmured, “Even now… he refuses to fall. That’s the strength of someone who protects.”

Yuma glanced sideways, just catching the words. He didn’t respond right away, but his eyes softened. And slowly and silently he nodded—mirroring the sentiment. Dumon could finish this. He would finish this. And in doing so, he’d prove it—not just to the Shadow, but to himself. Dumon was the protector of Barian World and he was Nasch’s knight. Now all they had to do… was sit back and watch him execute that truth.

Dumon turned toward the Shadow once more, his expression clear. Voice calm. Steady. “Thank you, everyone.”

He drew in a slow breath, his fingers resting on his deck. “Then it’s my move, I draw!”

The card slid free from the top of his deck with sharp purpose. Dumon paused for a moment gathering his strength and then placed a card with precision. “I activate the Spell Card, Seraphic Benediction. This lets me return one Spell Card from my Graveyard to my hand.”

With fluid ease, Dumon’s fingers slipped into position by his Graveyard and pulled free the card he needed. “I return Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One… and activate it!”

“I call forth Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry!”

This time Dumon’s signature monster took the field in his defence. “Now I overlay Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry and build the Overlay Network—appear, Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph!”

The Overlay Network roared to life overhead as Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry surged upward consumed into the swirling vortex, only to remerge as Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph. Dumon didn’t hesitate. “Now witness true evolution—I activate Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension!”

Another surge of energy rippled across the field as Dumon raised his arm high. “I build the Overlay Network once more, this time using Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph and Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK!”

The two Chaos Numbers—reflections of both Dumon and Nasch—dissolved into particles of light before spiraling upward, intertwining in perfect symmetry as they vanished into the roaring Overlay Network. “BEHOLD!” Dumon called out, voice echoing with fierce resolve. “The power of loyalty and the strength to protect!”

He raised his hand high once more. “Become the blade that cuts through despair—the shield that endures even annihilation–Seraphic Nihility!!”

From the heart of the swirling vortex emerged a figure unlike any before. Descending slowly like a celestial guardian from ocean depths, it stood tall and resolute. Its armor gleamed with hues of deep navy and shimmering silver, etched with delicate waves and star motifs that pulsed gently with ethereal energy. From its back extended two elegant constructs: on the left, a flowing halo of liquid light and starlit water, spinning softly; on the right, angelic wings forged of pure radiant energy, folded with serene grace. And at its core glowed an orb swirling with tidal blues and pale gold, a heart where light and water danced in perfect balance. One eye shone a calming cerulean, while the other glowed a steady silver, framed by a fractured circlet that hinted at trials overcome.

A trident-like scepter formed in its right hand, gleaming with the power to both strike and heal. In its left, an open mirror shield radiated defence and protection. The holographic display flickered to life: displaying ATK 3000 and DEF 2500, respectively. A hush fell as Dumon stood tall, hand pressed over his heart–this new Xyz monster was his strength and promise. With steady resolve, he declared: “This is my final judgment—the balance of who I was and who I choose to be now. With Seraphic Nihility, I will protect everything I hold dear!”

Yuma’s eyes sparkled. “Wow, that’s amazing! Dumon and Shark’s combined strength–their bond made manifest. Heh–that Shadow’s totally toast now!”

Nasch clenched his fist, nodding in support. “Now’s your chance, finish this Duel Dumon.”

Dumon glanced back, offering a small nod of thanks—then turned to face the Shadow his focus sharpening. “I use one Chaos Overlay Unit and activate Seraphic Nihility’s Special Effect. Your monster loses all its attack points and that power is added to mine!” Dumon explained.

Seraphic Nihility quickly absorbed the Chaos Overlay Unit, its trident-scepter glowing as Number 44: Sky Pegasus 3700 attack points plummeted to zero, while Seraphic Nihility’s surged by that amount its attack reaching a staggering 6700 attack points. “Now Seraphic Nihility, attack!”

The trident-scepter glowed fiercely as it was hurled straight at Number 44: Sky Pegasus, striking true. The Shadow of Dumon dissipated away–allowing only for a shadowy essence to remain as its life points finally hitting zero. The holographic display flashed Dumon’s victory and at long last he could relax. The fight drained out of him as Dumon sank to his knees, breath shallow but triumphant. Without hesitation, Nasch was at his side, steady and unwavering. He slid an arm around Dumon’s waist, offering silent strength and support.

Dumon leaned into him, the exhaustion softening into something tender. His voice was quiet, but clear—a whisper meant only for Nasch. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Nasch’s eyes held a rare softness, the fierceness melting into a partner who simply wanted to hold Dumon close. “You never had to do it alone,” he replied, gently helping him to his feet.

Dumon allowed himself a soft smile, his body still leaning into the steady warmth of Nasch’s support. For a few moments, neither of them needed words—just the quiet closeness was enough. But then Dumon’s hand shifted, moving to retrieve something. And with care, he pulled free the familiar cards—Nasch’s cards before holding them out, fingers brushing gently against Nasch’s as he passed them over.

Nasch took them without a word, his eyes meeting Dumon’s with something quiet and resolute between them. He slipped the cards back into his deck case, keeping one hand on Dumon’s arm as they both turned to face the remaining essence of the Shadow. With Nasch guiding him, Dumon stepped forward. The others had already begun to gather, watching as Dumon extended his hand—reclaiming the essence of his Barian power, drawing it back into himself. As a faint light pulsed once at his chest, then faded.

Silence hung briefly, reverent. And then— “I think I remember someone promising the next time we could all go out!” Yuma chimed in, eyebrows raised with a grin. The timing was risky—but classic Yuma. He knew how to break the tension when it was just starting to feel too heavy.

Dumon blinked, glancing over in mild surprise. While Shark—Nasch, let out a low sigh despite the corner of his mouth tugging ever-so-slightly upward. “I did promise.”

He paused, pretending to think it over with mock seriousness. “How about this weekend?”

Yuma threw a fist in the air. “Yes! Finally! You better not flake!” He exclaimed.

“I’ll hold him to it,” Dumon added, his voice quiet but amused as he leaned slightly more against Nasch—this time less from weakness, and more from comfort.

“Mizar, Kite! That means you both have to come too!” Yuma called out, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Kite crossed his arms, giving a small nod. “This Friday…?” He paused for a second, mentally calculating. “I think I can make it work.”

“Wait—are you serious?!” Yuma asked, eyes wide, almost bouncing in place.

“It shouldn’t be a prob—”

Kite didn’t get the chance to finish before Yuma leapt into the air, throwing both fists up with a grin. “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

Though he paused mid-jump, realization dawning as he glanced toward Mizar—who had yet to answer. “Come on, Mizar! You know you had fun today!” Yuma grinned at him, pleading dramatically. “Admit it!”

Mizar tilted his head, his expression unreadable but his tone dry. “I am coming to understand that your persistence is… difficult to avoid.”

“You better believe it! Don’t make me show up at your dorm again!” Yuma teased, wagging a finger.

A quiet moment passed, and Mizar’s lips twitched, just barely—but enough for Kite, who stood nearby, to notice. “…Very well,” Mizar finally said. “But I expect this ‘outing’ to be less chaotic than today’s events.”

“No promises!” Yuma beamed, before Shark cut in.

“Yuma, aren’t you forgetting to invite someone?” Shark asked, arching a brow with a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Yuma blinked, looking around with genuine confusion. “Huh? Who am I forgetting?”

Shark gave a small shake of his head, clearly amused. “Seriously? You’re dense. Ray’s standing right here.”

Yuma flailed, arms thrown up dramatically. “I’m not forgetting Ray! He’s automatically included—he never makes a big deal when I ask him to come with me!”

Ray gave a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean…that’s true.”

Shark snorted, folding his arms. “Still doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to hear it.”

Realizing that, Yuma turned quickly, puffing his cheeks in slight embarrassment. “Okay, okay! Ray—you’re totally invited too. Like…officially!”

Ray smiled warmly. “Then I guess I’ll officially be there.”

As the laughter and light teasing echoed through the aftermath of the Duel, Dumon leaned a little more comfortably against Nasch’s side. The darkness had lifted for now and in its place was something real and familiar. The kind of peace you fight for and though the battles against the remaining Shadows of the Barian Emperors weren’t over, for tonight, they could all breathe easier—together.

Chapter Text

Yuma sat at his desk, a pile of textbooks sprawled in front of him, each one open to various chapters about ancient civilizations and excavation techniques. His foot tapped impatiently as he tried to focus on the process of carbon dating, but instead, he found himself staring blankly at the page. His mind was drained from the information overload, and the constant motion of his pencil against his notebook and the tapping of his foot were the only things keeping him from sliding off his chair in frustration. Yet, it didn’t save him from expressing his disdain in other ways. “Ugh, I can’t take it anymore!” Yuma exclaimed, pushing the textbook away and leaning back in his chair with a groan. “I’m starting to think I’m just not built for this!”

Ray, sprawled across the bed was currently propped up on his elbows, with a book of his own slowly glanced up at Yuma’s dramatic outburst. One eyebrow arched in amusement as he took in the scene. “If you’re itching for something more exciting, I can think of a way to help with that,” Ray said dryly, his voice a mix of sarcasm and genuine curiosity.

Yuma groaned again, running his hands through his long hair. “I’m sure you could,” he replied, his voice exaggerated with mock seriousness. “But honestly, I’d take another Barian Shadow right now if it got me away from these books…”

The last part sounded half-defeated as Yuma slumped down in his chair. Ray moved to close his book, sitting up as his purple eyes shifted fully to Yuma with a quiet, knowing expression. A smirk playing across his lips. “So, you’d prefer facing off against the Shadows of Barian Emperors to... carbon dating ancient pottery?" Ray’s tone was teasing, but there was a hint of something more thoughtful beneath it.

Yuma threw his arms dramatically over his head before letting them fall in defeat, as he slumped over his desk. “Yes! Yes, I would! At least there’s excitement, action, and, y’know, adventure!” He remained slumped for a moment longer before suddenly he sat upright, his eyes lighting up as a thought struck him. “Wait! Actually, that gives me the perfect idea!”

Ray raised an eyebrow, intrigued as he shifted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side. “What’s this now?” he asked, half-amused, half-cautious.

Yuma turned to Ray with a mischievous grin at first–but it was quickly replaced by a frown as second thoughts plagued him. “I’ve been thinking about visiting Dumon…” he started, his expression definitely a more serious one. “I want to go check on him, like I did with Kite and Mizar after Mizar’s Shadow was dealt with. But, well, I’m not sure how to do that without feeling like a third wheel. I mean, it’s Dumon and Shark’s apartment now. They’re in a relationship, so it might be awkward to just intrude…”

Ray let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “...Yuma, you do realize you can be a little more subtle about your feelings, right? You’re not intruding on their relationship by checking on Dumon.”

Yuma blinked at him for a moment, processing the words, before his face lit up with realization. “You’re right!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. His smirk returning once more as he eyed Ray. “Hey, Ray, I bet you want a break too, huh? How about you come with me to Dumon and Shark’s place?”

Ray gave him an amused look. “...It’s probably for the best. If you were left to your own devices again, you’d bring them chips and soda. Though, I really think we should take this opportunity to prepare an actual, proper meal.”

Yuma winced slightly at the remark but grinned sheepishly. “Okay-okay, so it wasn’t exactly the best idea with Kite–but this time, we’ll make it a meal to remember–maybe with a side of snacks?-- So, are you up for it or not?”

Ray gave a slow, deliberate shrug, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Alright, fine. But first, we’re hitting the store. I’m not about to cook for anyone if you’re just going to serve it with chips and candy.”

Yuma’s face lit up with excitement as he grabbed his jacket, ready to escape the books. “Deal! Let’s go.”

Ray barely had time to grab his jacket before Yuma seized his arm, practically dragging him out of his room and down the stairs. Quickly dawning their shoes before taking a step outside, the cold evening air immediately hitting them. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees as they began walking down the street. The sky was painted with deep shades of purple and orange, the final remnants of the sunset fading into the darkness. But Heartland City still buzzed with the hum of traffic, distant chatter, and the occasional flicker of lights from the shops they passed.

They’d decided to stop at a store closer to Shark and Dumon’s apartment to make the grocery run easier. Yuma’s energy was infectious as ever as he spoke a mile a minute and Ray couldn’t help but smile, nodding occasionally or offering a response of his own. Yuma’s enthusiasm remaining constant, excited, spontaneous, and as always a little unpredictable. Yet today, something felt different. The sounds of the evening and the steady rhythm of their footsteps on the pavement felt distant compared to the racing thoughts in Yuma’s mind and as they reached a crosswalk he’d suddenly froze mid-step. His fingers still loosely curled around Ray’s arm–he hadn’t let go, even when they’d been putting on their shoes. And now the moment between them could only stretch, the realization hitting him all at once. His red eyes darted down, seeing his action for the first time, and a wave of heat rushed to his face. His heart skipping a beat, and that familiar flutter of butterflies stirring in his stomach. This felt so right, so natural—too natural. A feeling he couldn’t quite place, but knew deep down was something more.

But the sudden panic that washed over him, forced Yuma to pull away, his chest tightening. No. This can’t be happening. Not now, not here. His thoughts rushed faster than he could catch them, each one tumbling over the other, leaving a tight knot in his gut. Was this wrong? Was it wrong to feel this way? His gaze fell to the ground, avoiding Ray’s eyes. He’d wanted to be brave. To tell Ray everything, to let him know how he felt–especially after how close Dumon’s Duel had been against his Shadow. Especially after seeing Shark almost lose Dumon–and yet would doing so ruin everything? Would Ray think he was too forward? Too... eager? What if he messed this up? What if he just—

“Uh... s-sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you like that,” Yuma stammered, his voice shaky, though he tried to sound casual. “I... I just got excited. I didn’t even realize...”

For a long moment, Ray didn’t say anything, and Yuma’s anxiety only grew. His stomach did a flip at the quiet between them, but Ray was always like this—quiet, calm, like a rock in the middle of a storm. Yuma couldn’t tell if Ray was angry or confused or... something else–that was until finally, Ray spoke. His voice low but steady, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re fine, Yuma,” he said simply, but his eyes softened as he looked at him, giving a reassuring chuckle as he rubbed the back of his head. “Just... don’t drag me around too much. I don’t want to end up with a sore arm from all your enthusiasm.”

Ray’s words were light, teasing even but there was a tenderness in his tone that made Yuma’s heart race, as if his chest might explode. Yuma only nodded quickly, his face flushed as his eyes were unable to meet Ray’s. Why is it so hard? Why couldn’t he just say it?

“Yeah, sorry. You’re right,” Yuma said, forcing a nervous laugh. “I got carried away.”

Ray watched him closely for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in a way that Yuma knew wasn’t judgment. It was just... thoughtful. Ray always had this way of seeing through Yuma’s nervous energy, like he could tell when Yuma was struggling with something. “Really, Yuma,” Ray said, his voice softer now with a reassuring calmness filling it. “I don’t mind at all. I enjoy your enthusiasm.” He reached out then, offering his hand with a small, genuine smile. “But maybe this is the safer route.”

Yuma’s eyes lingered on Ray’s hand for a moment too long. It wasn’t the first time Ray had reached out like this, but the weight of the gesture felt different now. In that small movement, Yuma felt a thousand unspoken things pass between them—a familiarity, an intimacy. He didn’t want to let go, but the hesitation was almost unbearable. What did this mean? Did it mean what he thought it meant?

His heart was pounding in his chest, his palms suddenly sweaty. This wasn’t just a simple gesture anymore. It felt like something more. Something that made the ground beneath him feel both solid and shaky at the same time. Yuma exhaled shakily, then without another thought, reached out to take Ray’s hand in his. The contact was warm, grounding, and in that instant, Yuma felt the entire world slow down. His heart felt tethered to Ray, like they were linked in a way that was both terrifying and beautiful. In the following moment they resumed their walk, side by side, and for once, the world didn’t seem so complicated.

But as Yuma kept pace with Ray, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was this how things were supposed to be? How could it feel so right when the fear of ruining everything was right there, just beneath the surface?

As they turned the corner, the streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. Yuma’s hand still felt warm from the soft grip he held around Ray’s, his eyes drifting down to their hands again as a thought tugged at the back of his mind. What if it could be like this all the time? His heart couldn’t help but skip a beat, his pulse quickening in response. He could almost picture it: the two of them walking hand in hand, casually picking up groceries for dinner—or maybe just snacks. They’d joke around, Ray’s calm smile always balancing Yuma’s energetic nature and maybe just maybe finally things could be more straightforward.

But caution stirred deep within him, and the thought of ruining everything crept back into his mind. He wondered if their friendship could survive a change like that. Yuma already felt like he was teetering on the edge of making things awkward, with his little slip-ups. Thus, his doubts circled, the relentless thought that there was no way Ray could feel the same, that he was reading too much into the caring gestures of a true friend.

Yet, his musings were cut short by the faint whir of a car passing by, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Ahead, a glowing holographic sign for a small market near Shark and Dumon’s apartment blinked, casting a soft glow on the sidewalk. It was a modest grocery store with a limited selection, but it carried the essentials for any meal and as they drew closer, the air was tinged with the faint scent of a fresh produce mixed. “Almost there,” Ray said, his voice pulling Yuma’s attention. He looked over, a bit surprised to see Ray glancing down at him with a small, amused smile. “I guess you’re gonna drag me around in there, too, huh?”

Yuma blinked, laughing nervously. “W-What? No! I swear, I’ll behave this time,” he said, flailing a little before quickly adding, “Though... no promises about not picking up too much candy.”

Ray chuckled softly, shaking his head. The sound of his laughter settling something warm in Yuma’s chest as Ray took the lead toward the sliding doors of the market. The sensors detecting their approach with a soft chime as they stepped inside. Yuma followed, his thoughts still flickering between the here and now and the fragile hope of what could be—if only he were brave enough. Their hands had separated as Ray reached for a nearby basket and began browsing the selection of produce, but the warmth lingered, stubborn and ghostlike.

Maybe someday, Yuma thought, as the doors slid closed behind them, something this simple wouldn’t feel so far away.

Chapter Text

The bedroom was dimly lit, aglow with the faint pulse of LED strips tucked beneath the bedframe, casting a soft blue hue along the floor—the only light aside from the faint glow trailing in from the hallway. The walls were a deep slate gray, cool and undistracting, with only the subtlest touches of color: silver accents on the bedside lamp, a folded turquoise throw resting at the foot of the bed. One nightstand held a closed book, a half-drunk glass of water, and Dumon’s glasses—no longer needed now that his Barian powers had returned, while the other housed a neatly stacked deck case and a small, framed photo turned slightly away from view.

Dumon sat propped against the headboard, his posture stiff but composed, dressed in a loose, slate-colored shirt and drawstring pants. The folds of the light blanket pooling over his legs, the steady rise and fall of his chest betraying the fatigue he still hadn't fully shaken. As his hands rested neatly in his lap. The air still held the faint scent of antiseptic from the patch Nasch had helped apply to a shallow cut along the side of his temple—an injury more symbolic than serious, but one that lingered from the Duel against his Shadow.

Nasch himself, sat beside Dumon on the edge of the bed, arms folded loosely across his lap. His gaze was steady, unreadable to most, but Dumon knew the weight behind it. Concern, laced with restrained frustration—at the battle, at the pain, at the helplessness of being forced to watch, that he couldn’t admit aloud. “You’re too quiet,” Dumon said softly, breaking the silence without turning his head. His voice was usually so calm but instead it was thinner–tired, yet still composed. “I’m not that badly injured–it could have been far worse.”

Nasch’ eyes flicked to him, briefly. “That doesn’t mean you should act like nothing happened.”

Dumon’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “I thought you liked when I kept things calm.”

Nasch scoffed, barely a sound. “Not when you do it to hide you’re hurting.”

A moment passed between them, comfortable, heavy and familiar before Nasch moved to reach for the blanket and adjusted it, tucking it more securely over Dumon’s legs without a word. Dumon watched him quietly, not stopping him–as there was no need to. “Thanks,” he murmured after a moment, eyes softening.

Nasch didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The weight of his presence, the quiet way he remained close without demanding anything—those were the things Dumon had always known to look for. Small gestures and unspoken reassurances. That was Nasch. It always had been.

Outside the sealed window, the lights of Heartland City flickered softly in shifting patterns of neon–blue, white, violet casting long reflections along the wall like waves breaking against still water. A hush settled between them again, but it wasn’t cold. It was waiting. Then, quietly but roughly Nasch spoke. “Will you forgive yourself now?”

The words cut through the silence more than any sudden noise could have. Not accusing, not angry…just, burdened. Dumon’s grey eyes shifted to meet his. In them, Nasch could see the echo of things neither of them had put to rest. “You didn’t fail me five years ago,” Nasch said, his voice low, pained. “I failed you. As your leader… I should’ve seen it. What Vector was scheming. I should’ve—”

He stopped abruptly as a familiar warmth pressed to his cheek. Dumon’s hand rested there, thumb brushing lightly along the edge of Nasch’s face in a gesture that was steady, not dramatic but measured, like everything Dumon did. His voice, when it came was gentle but unflinching. “We were all naïve back then, Nasch. Not just you.”

There was a brief pause. “But I was unable to protect you from being captured,” Dumon continued, his voice quieter now, strained by memory. “I was even with Marin when Vector struck and I still failed to protect her…”

His hand stilled, but he didn’t pull it away. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

Nasch’s jaw tightened, his eyes shadowed. There was more he wanted to say, more blame he could have taken, that still coiled in his chest—but he didn’t argue. Slowly and deliberately he placed his hand over Dumon’s. The silence between them shifting, no longer heavy but shared, grounding. Dumon let it linger for a moment before gently changing the current of the conversation. His voice was soft, thoughtful. “...What do you make of all this, Nasch?”

Their hands remained intertwined as they settled against the bedspread. Nasch’s thumb moved slowly across the back of Dumon’s hand—part comfort, part silent gratitude. Gratitude that Dumon was still here and still breathing after the battle with his Shadow. Nasch slowly exhaled, the air catching a little in his throat. “If you mean whether I think Vector’s behind it…” He trailed off for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought. “I don’t know. It doesn’t add up. Why wait five years? And even if he is back to his scheming ways, how could he have recover his Barian powers before the Shadows arrived?”

Nasch shook his head. His tone was more analytical now—careful and measured, not cold. “Don Thousand absorbed you, Marin, Girag, and Alito through Vector when he was taken in… and Mizar followed after his defeat, trying to face Don Thousand alone. But when Yuma and I beat Thousand, that power joined me. When I fell, whatever remained should’ve been scattered—or gone altogether. And when the Numeron Code brought us back, we returned as humans, not Barians,” he said, trying to reason through it all.

Dumon was quiet for a moment, gaze focused but steady. “Unless that power returned to Don Thousand somehow.”

“That’s not possible,” Nasch said firmly, but something uncertain flickered across his features. “If Don Thousand had returned...we’d feel it. We’d know.”

Dumon hesitated. “Unless you’re forgetting something.” His voice dropped slightly. “Vector made a pact with him. His life force is still intrinsically tied to Don Thousand’s essence. And Yuma…he restored Vector, Nasch.”

Nasch looked away sharply, jaw tightening again. “That doesn’t mean this is connected,” he said. There was steel in his voice now, but also tension. “We don’t know that. And I don’t want to start drawing conclusions—especially not around Yuma.”

Dumon’s eyes searched his face quietly. “You’re worried about him.”

“Of course I am.” The words left Nasch before he could filter them, quiet but absolute. “He’s not just caught in this again, he’s letting himself feel everything again. And this time, it’s not just Vector or the Barian Emperors. It’s... ‘Ray.’”

Dumon didn’t interrupt. Nasch’s voice dropped even lower, something taut under the surface. “I’ve seen how he looks at him. And Yuma doesn’t do anything halfway. Not with Dueling. Not with people. If this gets worse…if whatever’s coming tears that away from him too—”

He stopped. Not because he didn’t know what came next—but because he knew exactly what did. “Then Yuma will need all of us,” Dumon said gently, finishing the thought for him. “Now more than ever.”

Nasch exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it settle between them. His fingers tightening just slightly around Dumon’s, as if grounding himself in the moment—before it all started spinning again. “This stays between us, Dumon,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “At least until we know for sure. If this is connected to Vector… or if it’s something entirely new—we don’t say a word. Not yet. And especially not to Yuma. Not until we’re ready to help him face it.”

Dumon nodded, solemn. “I understand. But we should remain cautious all the same. If there’s even a chance that Don Thousand could return…”

“Then we can’t afford to be wrong,” Nasch cut in quietly. He looked toward the window, toward the flickering lights of Heartland City stretching far beyond the glass. “We already had our second chance. There won’t be a third.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy, full of quiet understanding. Then a sudden chime rang out from the apartment’s hallway—sharp and unexpected. Nasch straightened instantly, startled by the noise. His hand slipped from Dumon’s as old tension returned to his posture in a heartbeat, instincts kicking in—but they were just that now: instincts, not power. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching. Couldn’t, not anymore.

Dumon blinked, caught off-guard as well. “...Was anyone supposed to stop by?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” Nasch replied, his tone clipped, guarded, already pushing up from the edge of the bed.

Dumon’s eyes drifted toward the apartment entrance, gaze briefly distant. A faint tingle brushed against the edge of his awareness—barely there, but familiar. Not danger. Just Yuma. “It’s Yuma,” he murmured, almost before the next chime echoed. “...And he’s with Vector. As usual.”

The unmistakable burst of muffled laughter came from beyond the door—bright, unfiltered, and entirely Yuma. A moment later, Vector’s voice—or rather Ray’s followed, softer, warmer and steady. Nasch paused mid-step, exhaling through his nose with thin patience. “Of course it is.”

Dumon gave a small, tired smile as he adjusted the blanket around his lap. “As spontaneous as ever.”

“I told him we were meeting up this weekend, and he throws in tonight,” Nasch muttered, more amused than annoyed. “Just stay resting, Dumon. I’ll go greet our guests.”

He turned, shoulders already straightening as he made his way to the door. His hand hovered for only a moment over the panel before the door opened with a soft hiss, allowing two familiar faces greeted him. “Hey, Shark! SURPRISE!” Yuma’s grin stretched wide, his voice bright and uncontainable as ever.

Shark blinked, the flash of sound hitting him before the full picture did—Yuma practically bouncing in place, both arms full of grocery bags. Beside him, Ray stood more composed, offering a polite nod with a couple bags in his own hands. “Are we celebrating something?” Shark asked, his tone unreadable as his gaze flicked between them. Though he still stepped aside to let them in, holding the door without a second thought.

“I wanted to check in on Dumon,” Yuma said as he stepped inside. “See how he’s doing. Ray suggested we cook something real instead of letting me bring Junk Fuel–though I did sneak some in–but apparently that doesn’t count as recovery food!”

Shark’s mouth quirked slightly—half amusement, half skepticism, but his attention shifted as his eyes briefly landed on Ray–Vector. He didn’t say anything at first, just studying him. Ray meeting his gaze calmly, if a little cautiously. There was no trace of the grin that once came so easily with deceit. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fidget—just stood there, steady and quiet, letting Yuma fill the silence. “I see,” Shark said at last. The words were simple, but they carried weight. Not rejection, not welcome…just recognition.

Old habits died hard. And old enemies—even reformed ones, weren’t easy to forget. Still, Dumon’s calm voice carried from down the hall. “Yuma? Is that you?”

“Yep!” Yuma called back, kicking off his shoes with practiced ease. “We brought food! Ray’s in charge of all the healthy stuff!”

Shark finally stepped away from the door, letting it slide shut behind them. “I guess this is happening, then,” he muttered under his breath—not irritated, just caught off guard. Then in a louder tone he called out. “Just don’t crowd Dumon. He’s still healing.”

Ray offered a quiet, respectful nod. “Of course. We’ll keep it low-key.”

Shark didn’t reply. He simply walked past them toward the kitchen, his mind already shifting back to that unfinished conversation and the question that lingered unspoken: Why now? But he kept his worries to himself, choosing instead to focus on the practical. “You can set the bags down on the counter,” he said.

He waited, arms loosely crossed, as Ray followed Yuma into the kitchen and began unpacking with practiced care. Shark didn’t move to help just watched, his expression unreadable. Something in him resisted the image of Vector, in his kitchen. Like it was normal. Like none of the chaos had ever happened and he was just supposed to accept it all like it had been a bad nightmare.

Ray hesitated slightly, sensing the weight of Shark’s gaze. “I’ll keep things tidy,” he offered quietly. “I promise.”

Shark’s eyes narrowed not out of suspicion now, but something closer to calculation. He hadn’t missed the soft smile Ray gave Yuma, the way he deferred to his energy, the calmness that had replaced manipulation. Still, old wounds didn’t close with just manners and grocery bags. But this wasn’t about him. He exhaled through his nose and uncrossed his arms. “If Yuma trusts you,” he said, more to himself than Ray. “Then I’ll trust you with the kitchen. Just don’t light anything on fire.”

There was a pause as Ray blinked before offering a soft, self-aware smile. “Understood.”

Shark gave him one last look, then turned toward Yuma. “Come on. You said you came to check in on Dumon?”

Yuma perked up instantly, but his red eyes lingered on Ray. He hadn’t missed the exchange between them, or the way Ray masked that troubled look with a bright smile. As much as Ray seemed to be holding it together, Yuma knew he was still struggling with the shadow of his time as Vector—and the duel with his Shadow hadn’t helped. And knowing this made Yuma realize the quiet pang within–he’d been so caught up in his own fears about visiting Shark and Dumon and imposing as a third wheel, he hadn’t thought about how hard this might be on Ray. Given, as always, Ray had put Yuma’s needs first—serving as his rock, even when Ray might have needed someone to lean on himself. “...Ray,” Yuma said gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

In an instant, the troubled look in Ray’s eyes vanished, replaced by cheerful deflection. “It’s okay, Yuma. Tonight’s about you and besides, Shark would really have to worry about the kitchen catching fire if you helped!”

Yuma hesitated, wanting to argue—but Ray nudged him on with a quiet smile. “Go on. I’ll be okay.”

Yuma gave a slow nod, reluctantly pulling away and moving to join Shark. “Yeah… how’s Dumon doing?” he asked, trying to shake off the weight of his concern.

Shark didn’t respond, but his pace slowed just enough for Yuma to walk beside him, shoulder to shoulder before they disappeared down the hall. Ray remained in the kitchen, organizing ingredients in silence. The stillness settled around him, broken only by the hum of appliances and the rustle of plastic bags. He could still feel the weight of Shark’s lingering unease, but it wasn’t just that. It was Yuma’s eyes, lingering on him before he left. The way his fingers had hesitated before letting go. Ray exhaled slowly, trying not to let that moment settle too deeply.

Just down the hall, the mood was different—quieter, but no less complicated. Yuma stepped into the softly lit bedroom behind Shark, eyes adjusting to the ambient neon glow seeping in from the skyline outside. Dumon sat propped up in bed, a light blanket pulled over his lap, the reflection of Heartland’s ever-shifting city lights painting subtle hues across the room. “Yuma,” Dumon greeted, a faint but genuine smile forming as he looked up. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hey Dumon! How’s the healing going?” Yuma asked brightly, shaking off lingering worries about Ray for now.

Dumon gave a soft chuckle. “Nasch is taking excellent care of me, so I expect I’ll be back on my feet soon enough.”

“He brought groceries,” Shark added dryly, moving to lean against the far wall with arms folded.

Dumon blinked, mildly surprised. “That’s what I thought I heard Yuma announce from the hall.”

Yuma rubbed the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly. “Ray insisted on it. Said I need to stop bringing people Junk Fuel when they’re sick.”

There was a pause, followed by a quiet amused breath from Dumon. “That sounds like him,” Dumon remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Before reflecting on a comment of his friend. “Yuma, Mizar told me you brought him to a waffle café the other day. He said it was ‘A dessert parlor blatantly lying about being breakfast’… In any case, he seemed rather confused.”

Yuma blinked. “Waffles ARE breakfast!”

Shark muttered under his breath, “Not the way you order them.”

Dumon laughed again softer this time and with a warmth in his voice. “Hey! I’m still growing, Shark! I need that sugar!” Yuma exclaimed.

Shark shook his head with a faint smirk, fully aware that most guys finished growing by eighteen—give or take a bit of slow growth until twenty—meaning Yuma should’ve been done by now. “If you’ve got any growing left, that sugar’s not helping it.”

Yuma puffed out his cheeks in playful defiance, crossing his arms. “Now you’re sounding just like my sister!” he huffed.

Both Dumon and Shark chuckled softly, the moment lightening the room. Dumon then gently steered the conversation back on course. “You’ve asked about me, so now it’s only fair I ask about you. How are you and Ray doing?” he inquired, careful not to press too hard but hoping to glean something in casual conversation.

Yuma’s face brightened briefly with assurance. “I’m fine!” he said quickly, then paused, his expression softening. “...But I’m worried about Ray. I think he’s putting on a brave face for me.”

“What do you mean?” Dumon asked gently, trying to encourage Yuma to open up without pressing too hard.

Yuma hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a mix of frustration and tenderness. “...Even after five years, I know he still struggles with everything. He’s trying so hard to be the person I saw in him, the person I believe he can be. But after that encounter with his Shadow, he just seems rattled. Some reminders just shake him up, making him feel like he hasn’t made any progress at all.”

Yuma looked down, clenching his fists lightly. “I…I know it’s not easy for any of you to just forget. But I don’t know how to help him. I know he’s good–really good! But…I don’t want Ray to second-guessing himself. It just hurts to see that...”

“Then he’s lucky to have someone like you by his side,” Dumon said softly, his gaze steady. “It’s not easy carrying that kind of worry.”

He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Healing, whether it’s from battle scars or the ones inside it doesn’t happen all at once. Sometimes progress is slow, and sometimes it feels like its going backwards. But the fact that he’s still trying, that means he hasn’t given up.”

Dumon offered a faint, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to fix everything for him, Yuma. Just being there, believing in him, might be the most important thing.”

Yuma paused with those thoughts for a moment before his expression lit up. “Yeah! You’re right, Dumon! I’m gonna keep cheering Ray on so he can high five the sky!”

Dumon’s eyes softened, the faint glow from the city casting shadows across his face. “That’s good, Yuma. He’s lucky to have you.” His voice lowered slightly, gentle but carrying an unspoken weight. “...Though, sometimes the hardest thing isn’t fighting the battles out there, it’s the silence between the ones we love. The words left unsaid can be heavier than any wound.”

He met Yuma’s gaze, steady and calm. “If you care about him, really care…don’t wait for the perfect moment to tell him. Sometimes, there isn’t one. You don’t want to leave those words unspoken. The silence that follows, that’s something you carry far longer than any pain.”

Yuma swallowed hard, his eyes flickering away for a moment before locking back onto Dumon’s. “I… I think I understand.” His voice was quieter now, more uncertain but honest. “I don’t want to live with that silence…but…”

He took a shaky breath, shaking his head. “I want to tell him… really! I just, I don’t know how…”

“Just be yourself, Yuma,” Shark said quietly. “It wasn’t easy for me and Dumon when we confessed our feelings. But I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Dumon gave a small, warm smile. “It’s true. Fear can hold you back, but honestly, no matter how hard it is…love is worth it. Just know when you open up, you may aslo give the other person a chance to meet you halfway.”

He glanced gently at Yuma. “Besides, I told you it’s not about a perfect moment. It’s about being brave enough to share what’s in your heart—even if it feels messy.” A soft chuckle escaped Dumon's lips before he finished. “Because Nasch’s confession was very messy.”

“Hey, don’t tell him that! I’ve got an image to maintain!” Shark shot back with a sharp glance, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

“Really, Shark!? Even you fumbled?” Yuma asked, eyes wide with barely-contained laughter.

Shark groaned softly. “Great… look, Yuma, don’t go spreading that around.”

Dumon chuckled again, his expression fond. “He’s just worried you’ll start using it as blackmail.”

“I might!” Yuma grinned mischievously.

Shark sighed but the edge of his mouth continued to twitch. “Alright, that’s enough. I think you two have chatted plenty—Dumon needs rest. And you’re a bad influence.”

“Hey!” Yuma protested with a mock pout.

But even as he said it, he felt a little more at ease, the earlier weight of doubt momentarily softened by the warmth of the exchange. In the next moment he was following Shark quietly out of the room, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Dumon, who had already begun settling back into the pillows with a content expression. The door whispering shut behind them, and the hallway feeling quieter now—still and calm, with only the soft hum of lights and distant city sounds filling the space.

Yuma stayed close beside Shark, their steps carrying a companionable silence until the faint clinking of utensils and rustling bags signaled their return to the kitchen. Ray looked up from where he was prepping dinner, his jacket draped over one of the island stools to keep cool in the heat of the stove. A focused but relaxed expression softened when he saw them, his gentle smile flickering to life—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You two were gone a while,” Ray said lightly, trying to keep the tone casual. “Hope Dumon’s still doing alright.”

“He is,” Shark replied, his tone clipped but not cold. “You can credit Yuma for making him laugh too much, though.”

Yuma scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Guilty.”

Ray chuckled quietly, though even that small sound was soft—guarded. Yuma’s gaze lingered, the echo of Dumon’s words tugging at the corners of his thoughts. ‘If you care about him… don’t wait.’

Yet Yuma could only pause in place, eyes still locked on Ray, his expression shifting, even if just slightly. Something Ray seemed to notice as their eyes met for a moment, and Ray tilted his head concern gentle and immediate. “You okay?”

Yuma nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m good.” Then, after a breath and with a bit more conviction he added. “I’m better, actually.”

Ray blinked, a little surprised by the honesty, but he smiled nonetheless. “Good.”

Shark watched the exchange for a moment before turning toward the cabinets. “Alright, if you two are done with your heart-to-heart, tell me what you actually bought so I know how to salvage dinner.”

That earned a laugh from Yuma—and even a quiet one from Ray. “I think I remember Dumon saying he does most of the cooking,” Yuma teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

“I can cook some things!” Shark said defensively.

“I really think we should leave this one to Ray, Shark!” Yuma added with a laugh.

For now, the air between them felt lighter soft laughter filling the kitchen, the tension easing. And just for tonight, old enemies shared a kitchen, a meal, and a fragile peace. A chance for something better, the chance of a brighter future.

Chapter Text

Darkness pressed in on all sides.

Not the kind that came with night, but something deeper—heavier. A suffocating void that pulsed with silence. It had no voice, yet it whispered. No eyes, yet it watched. Yuma floated within it, suspended between memory and something far colder—something waiting.

Then… a flicker.

A light bloomed in the dark, delicate and wavering. Slowly, something began to take form before him. It hovered weightless—a shape both alien and familiar. A transparent, puzzle-like card outlined in a glowing white lattice. Interlocking pieces shimmering along its edges, ever-shifting. Three streams of blue particles spiraling around it, orbiting like celestial ribbons.

Yuma's breath hitched.

The Numeron Code.

The divine relic born from the dragon’s tear—the tear that formed the universe itself. The card that shaped existence. That he and Astral used to set the world right after Don Thousand’s defeat. Its soft glow pulsing like a heartbeat, growing brighter as it drifted toward him like a promise. Like salvation. Yuma’s heart pounded—not in fear, but in yearning. He needed it again. He had to protect them again. It was meant for him. His hand reached forward, trembling with a strange, desperate need. His fingertips brushing the surface.

CRACK.

A jagged fracture began to slice through the Code causing Yuma to gasp. Stumbling back in horror, eyes wide, heart frozen in his chest. The fracture spreading—fast, violent, merciless. The Numeron Code splintering as its glowing pieces shattered like glass, scattering into dust. A divine light extinguished. Gone.

“No—!” He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his throat.

And then the world changed.

The prior surroundings vanished. A blood-red moon rose above, swollen and throbbing like the open wound of a dying world. The sky twisting into a canvas of rotting crimson. A howl of wind tearing through the silence as ruins rose up around him. Yuma now stood in the remains of Heartland City. Charred, crumbling buildings. Streets fractured like broken ribs and the stench of smoke, ash, and despair hanging in the air. Craters pockmarked the landscape, some form of remnants from a battle. And scattered across the battlefield—bodies. His friends. All lying motionless. Pale. Silent.

Yuma’s felt the terror welling up as he backed up. “No… no, no, no—” His voice trembled with denial. Tripping back and landing hard beside one of the fallen.

It was Ray.

Eyes closed. Still. Unmoving. Yuma’s breath caught in his throat. “Ray…?” His hands trembled as he reached out, pulling him into his arms. “Ray—come on, wake up. Please—please!”

His voice cracked. His heart broke. Tears welling up, hot and blinding–sliding down his cheeks as he buried his face into Ray’s shoulder, holding him tighter, as if the warmth of his desperation could bring him back. “I didn’t get to tell you—” he whispered, voice barely audible. “You can’t go, not like this...”

A sob slipped past his lips. Grief and fear swelled in his chest, unbearable. Everything he hadn’t said—the feelings he didn’t dared to admit choked him in the silence. Then—movement.

From the edge of the pier, across the black, blood-lit water, a presence emerged. Thick and cold, like a storm cloud alive with malice. A shadow. Featureless. Faceless. But unmistakably Barian. Its darkness flickered like fire, and at its center, glowing bright and terrible, was the Barian sigil. Burning like an eye. Watching only him.

The air thinned. Yuma couldn’t breathe. The shadow raised its hand—no weapon, no monster—just an open palm, as if it were enough and the ground beneath him cracked, crumbled—giving a way. Yuma could feel himself begin to fall, still clutching Ray’s limp form as the world shattered around them, swallowed by the abyss.

Instantly he jolted upright in bed. Gasping. Sweat clinging to his skin as his chest rose and fell in ragged bursts. His hands gripping the sheets, white-knuckled, as if still trying to hold onto something—anything—that hadn’t already slipped away.

It was just a dream.

But the fear didn’t leave. It settled in his bones like cold iron—an ache that no amount of waking could shake off.

“...Yuma...?”

The voice came softly from beside him—sleep-slurred and unsure. Ray blinked in the dark, rubbing at his eyes. His expression hazy with sleep, but before he could register what was happening, Yuma moved—throwing his arms around him, clutching him like he might vanish if he let go. Ray froze, startled for only a second before raising hands–tentative at first, then steady, wrapping his arms gently around Yuma’s shaking form. “You’re okay,” Ray murmured, his voice softer now, grounding. “I’m here.”

Yuma didn’t answer. His face was buried in Ray’s shoulder, breaths shallow and heart still pounding too hard. Ray could feel it—Yuma’s pulse hammering against him, the slight tremble in his fingers. And for a moment, he said nothing more. He just held him. Let him breathe. Let him be. Only when Yuma’s grip eased just a little did Ray finally speak. “You had a nightmare, didn’t you…” Ray whispered, more a statement than a question.

Yuma pulled back slightly, just enough for his face to be seen in the low light. His eyes were hollow, rimmed with unshed tears, and he could only offer the faintest nod of acknowledgment. Ray shifted one hand, fingers threading gently through Yuma’s long hair, brushing it back in a slow, soothing motion. “You’re safe now,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

It was too much. The simple kindness—it cracked something deeper inside him. Yuma’s body tenseing up before the tears came again, harder this time. Silent and unstoppable. Once more he buried his face against Ray, seeking refuge in the closeness, in the warmth. The soft rhythm of Ray’s heartbeat becoming an anchor and one he clung to like it was the only real thing left in the world. His grip around Ray tightening, desperate, as if letting go would make the dream real again. Ray’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Yuma’s pain sinking into him like ice. He didn’t speak. Words would’ve been useless here. So he just held him.

Arms wrapping more firmly around Yuma’s trembling frame, drawing him as close as he could. All the while a quiet ache stirring in Ray’s chest: the need to fix this. To ease Yuma’s suffering. To somehow give him peace. And yet, this was all he could offer.

Yuma’s breath hitched as he clung tighter, the words torn from somewhere deep within him—scraped raw and trembling. “...Everything I fought for...” he whispered, barely audible against Ray’s shoulder. “It can’t just... slip away—can it?...”

He didn’t give Ray a chance to answer as he broke further. “Ray... don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me!”

The desperation in his voice cracked through the silence like splintered glass. Ray’s grip instinctively tightened, protective and certain. He didn’t flinch, nor did hesitate. He simply pressed his forehead to Yuma’s, grounding him with a steady presence, his voice soft but unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere we can’t go together,” he murmured. “I swear it.”

But deep in his chest, something twisted. Even as he said the words and meant them, a chill crept up his spine. Not from the night air drifting in through the window, but from something else. A cold and familiar presence. Striking so suddenly that Ray couldn’t be sure if he imagined it. And yet, it lingered. Like a presence watching and waiting. He didn’t know why, but the feeling wouldn’t let go. The nightmare Yuma experienced…maybe it was nothing, maybe it was a warning or maybe it was a glimpse of something darker–something still waiting beyond the edge of what they could see.

Yuma’s breathing stayed ragged for some time, but slowly it began to steady. Exhaustion settling in. The trembling in his shoulders easing as his grip loosened just enough—but he didn’t let go. Not completely as he still held on. Held on to his lifeline, as if hoping Ray would still be there when morning came. Ray shifted carefully, easing them both back down into the bed. Yuma’s head resting against his chest, breath now soft, steady. He’d fallen asleep once more. But Ray stayed awake, lying still in the hush of the room as the night stretched on around them. Closing his eyes, he tried to quiet his mind, but the shadow of Yuma’s words lingered. And while sleep didn’t come easily, it eventually claimed him—uneasy, but deep.

The sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, soft gold spilling across the floorboards as morning crept in. Ray was the first to stir. The warmth at his side still there as he registered Yuma’s form, still asleep, still curled close, his brow finally smooth and relaxed. There had been no further nightmares through the night, and Ray took that as a good sign. But as he lay there staring at the ceiling, his mind was far from quiet. Yuma’s words echoed in his ears, soft and desperate: ‘Don’t ever leave me.’

Ray exhaled slowly, purple eyes drifting down to the sleeping form pressed against him. Yuma’s head rested against his chest, breath slow and peaceful. His arms remained wrapped around Ray—clinging even in sleep. And Ray, he had never let go either. His hands had stayed where they were, holding Yuma gently in his arms, as if he were something fragile. Something precious. And he was. Yuma was the only one who had never given up on him. The one who’d seen past the pain and poison. The one person who chose to forgive—even when he didn’t have to, even when he really shouldn’t have… And that meant everything to Ray. To the point Yuma had become the one thing Ray didn’t want to lose. Not now. Not ever.

But what he wanted didn’t matter. The truth was, someone like him didn’t deserve someone like Yuma. He was Vector, after all. A monster, a manipulator and a liar. A weapon forged from spite and rage. He had even broken Yuma once—shattering his trust while trying to tear apart everything Yuma held dear. And yet, here Yuma was. Curled against him like he was safe. Like that trust had never been broken.

It was wrong. It had to be.

Ray turned his head slightly, eyes fixed still on Yuma’s sleeping face. So close. So unguarded. So full of the light Ray had once tried to destroy. And yet, he found himself longing for it now. Somewhere deep inside, a horrible, selfish thought flickered: ‘Tell me you love me…’

He crushed it the moment it rose. Wanting that, hoping for that…it was wrong. Yuma deserved someone whole. Someone unburdened by bloodstained memories. Someone who didn’t carry centuries of hatred beneath their skin. Someone better than him.

Yuma stirred slowly. His brow furrowed faintly as he blinked against the soft morning light. For a moment, his mind drifted between sleep and waking, caught in the afterglow of a dream he barely remembered but still felt in his chest. Then he realized he was warm. Safe. Still held within Ray’s soothing embrace. Yuma’s red eyes fluttered open fully, lifting to find Ray watching him—quiet, unreadable, and still so close. “...Ray?” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.

Ray was slightly startled as he was pulled from his thoughts by the gentle sound. “Good morning, Yuma,” he said softly.

Yuma didn’t pull away. He just lay there for a moment, taking in the stillness, alongside the steady beat of Ray’s heart beneath his ear. There was a peace here that hadn’t existed last night—fragile, but real. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ray said after a pause, his voice light but not quite steady.

Yuma shook his head faintly. “It’s okay,” he replied, then hesitated. “Thanks for not letting go…”

Ray’s eyes widened slightly at the words. Yuma’s hand shifting, fingers brushing lightly against Ray’s side, tentative and searching—before finally settling. As if anchoring himself. “Thanks,” he murmured again, softer now. “I… don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d woken up alone.”

Ray looked away for just a moment, the guilt sharp and bitter in his chest. “Yuma,” he said quietly, “I made a promise to you. One I intend to keep.”

Yuma gave a small nod, eyes drifting downward, lips parting slightly before he whispered, “I think I dreamed about losing you.”

Ray’s breath caught in his throat, but Yuma didn’t say more. The words just lingered in the air. Suspended between them. Unfinished and trembling as Ray struggled to find the right response. His heart ached with a hundred things he wanted to say—to apologize, to promise Yuma that he could trust him–to confess how much he loved him. But the weight of who he was and what he had done as Vector—made him hesitate. So instead, he moved his hand gently, reaching out to tuck a few long strands of Yuma’s hair behind his ear. “Yuma, everything’s going to be okay.”

Yuma’s eyes lifted to meet his—quiet, vulnerable, hopeful. And then, softly and with uncertainty he tried to speak. “Ray… I–”

A sharp knock at the door cut through the moment. “YUMA!” Akari’s voice shouted from the other side. “I know you have classes today! Get out of bed, you lazy butt!”

Yuma flinched as if struck, head jerking toward the noise. His face flushed as he sat up with a gasp. “A-Akari!”

Ray’s hand fell away. The moment slipped through their fingers as Yuma scrambled over him, stumbling out of bed. Yuma ruffling his hair, voice cracking as he called back. “I’m up, I’m up! I’m not gonna be late, I swear!”

Ray stayed lying there a moment longer, the warmth of Yuma’s body still lingering on his skin. That almost-confession echoed in his mind—‘Ray… I–’

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Don’t hope, he told himself. Don’t hope.

The silence stretched between them as the sound of Akari’s footsteps slowly faded away. Ray finally sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the echo of Yuma’s almost words still lingered—unspoken but heavy in the air.

Yuma was already shuffling around the room, pulling on a hoodie and tossing back his long hair with a distracted smile, fingers trying to brush through the strands. Ray watched quietly, hesitant to break the fragile calm—but knowing they both had to face the day. Eventually, he stood and began getting ready himself. Neither of them spoke as they moved through their morning routines, the quiet oddly comfortable. Yet, when they’d finished, Ray glanced over. “Ready?” he asked softly.

Yuma nodded. The weight of the nightmare hadn’t fully lifted, but he carried it better now and together, they grabbed their bags, heading downstairs to pull on their shoes before stepping out into the cool morning air. The city was slowly stirring to life, and the path to Heartland University stretched ahead. For a time, they walked in silence—until Yuma reached out, quietly taking Ray’s hand in his. There was no hesitation in the gesture. No awkward glance. No flinch. It didn’t even feel impulsive. It felt chosen. Yuma even didn’t look away, nor did he apologize. He simply held Ray’s hand with calm assurance, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ray said nothing, but his chest tightened with something fragile and fierce. Maybe it meant something more. Maybe it was just comfort in the wake of a nightmare. But whatever it was, Ray didn’t question it. He held Yuma’s hand in return, gently, gratefully as if relishing the quiet warmth between them all the way to their parting. They had different lectures, and naturally the moment of separation came–too soon at that. But Yuma lingered, fingers tightening around Ray’s hand just as he started to let go. “Ray,” Yuma said, voice low but sure. “Don’t forget—we’re meeting Shark and the others tonight.”

Yuma knew he didn’t have to say it. Ray would never forget. But it wasn’t the reminder that mattered. It was the pause that followed—the weight in Yuma’s eyes as he added: “...I want to talk to you before then. Just us. So, can we talk before we head over?”

Ray blinked, surprised not by the request, but by the gravity in Yuma’s voice. There was something different in it, almost final about it and he nodded, slow and thoughtful, his thumb brushing once over Yuma’s knuckles as if trying to commit the feeling to memory. “Of course,” he said. “Before tonight.”

But even as the words left his mouth, something in his chest stirred—unsettled and unsure. Like the stillness before a storm. Like a moment you wanted to hold onto just a little too long. His fingers lingered in Yuma’s grasp a second longer before he gently let go. “I’ll see you later.”

Yuma offered a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, then turned and disappeared into the crowd of students heading towards his class. Ray stood there a moment longer, watching him go. The hallway buzzing with life and voices that echoed off the walls—but in Ray’s ears, it all felt muted and he couldn’t quite place why. But something about this morning felt like the edge of something fragile. Like the moment before a page turned and once it did, things wouldn’t be the same. And all he could hope was that the turning of this page might lead toward something more between him and Yuma.

***

Ray stepped out of his final lecture just past sunset, the soft glow of streetlamps beginning to flicker to life outside the campus windows. The sky had begun to fade into lavender, streaked with the last light of day, and for once, the halls were quiet. It had been hours since they’d parted that morning, and Ray had carried Yuma’s unfinished words with him the whole day—like a breath held too long. Yet, the weight of it pushed him forward now, moving quickly through the courtyard as the cool evening air brushed against his skin. His thoughts only on Yuma—what he might say, what he might hear in return. A promise to talk. Something more than silence.

They’d agreed to meet near the fountain at the edge of the quad, just outside the bustle of the main pathways. A quiet and familiar place. Ray arriving first on the scene much to his own surprise. His purple eyes scanning the area briefly before he checked the time. Five minutes past. Yuma should’ve finished lectures long ago, but maybe Bronk had held him up. That wouldn’t be too unusual. So Ray waited. Ten more minutes passed. Then fifteen. At that point, Ray slipped on his Duel Gazer, tapping in to try calling.

No answer.

He frowned and tried again.

Still nothing.

A third time—same result. No pickup. No reply.

A chill settled slowly in his chest. This wasn’t like Yuma. He’d never been careless with their plans—not without reason. Not without telling Ray. Without hesitation Ray loaded up the message log, the holographic display flickering to life in the air beside him. The last message from Yuma was simple—“Heading out. See you soon.”

And after that, nothing. Ray’s pulse quickened. His gaze swept the quiet quad again, hoping desperately to see Yuma bounding toward him, laughing and late, waving off the delay with some excuse. But the benches stayed empty. The paths remained still. And that was when the first sharp edge of panic truly set in.

Ray tried to steady his breathing, telling himself there had to be a reasonable explanation. Maybe it was like the time with Mizar—just a Duel Gazer glitch. A delay. A misfire. But even so, Yuma knew where to go. He knew the meet up spot. Ray switched the holographic screen, shifting to his contacts list. Most of the names there felt more like echoes than connections. His relationships with the other former Barian Emperors was still strained—tense at best, and that was being generous. Even Yuma’s human friends didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. But they were all still there. Still reachable.

Maybe, just maybe Yuma had gone ahead to meet up with Shark and the others. Ray hesitated. His finger hovering for a second longer than necessary before he finally selected the contact labeled Nasch. A long moment passed as the call rang. Ray fully expecting it to be ignored. Maybe declined. Then— The screen flickered, and the familiar face of the Barian Emperor’s leader filling it. “What is this about, Vect—”

The old bite in Nasch’s voice trailed off midsentence, his expression shifting slightly. He'd caught the look on Ray’s face—the panic, the urgency, the sheer absence of his usual composed mask.

Ray jumped in before that hesitation could close. “Look, I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important,” he said quickly, voice tight. “Is Yuma with you guys? At the restaurant?”

“No, we thought he was with you,” Nasch replied, his tone clipped but tinged with surprise. “Are you guys heading—”

Ray cut him off, voice cracking with desperation. “Please, Nasch! I think something’s happened to Yuma!”

There was a pause. The usual edge in Nasch’s voice softened, replaced by a slow, steadying concern. “Calm down, Vec—Ray,” he said, his words deliberate and measured. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Ray swallowed hard but didn’t hesitate. He laid out everything he knew—the planned meeting near the quad fountain, Yuma’s absence, the unanswered calls, and the fear that had settled deep in his chest. He mentioned the obvious dinner plans of meet up with Nasch, Dumon, Mizar, and Kite and by the time Ray finished, the weight of the situation had clearly reached Nasch as well. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with worry.

Nasch was silent for a long second, processing—then his gaze sharpened. Focused.

“Alright. Stay where you are,” he said, the command in his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ll have someone meet you at the fountain. For now, we’ll start checking things out on our side.”

Ray blinked, surprised not just by the response, but the speed of it. “You believe me?”

Nasch’s eyes narrowed. “Yuma doesn’t just vanish. Not without a word—and certainly not before a meal.” He exhaled, grim and certain. “If something’s wrong, we’ll find him.”

Ray nodded quickly, voice dropping low. “Thank you.”

Nasch didn’t respond with anything sentimental—just a curt nod before the call cut off.

Ray stood there in the cooling air now, the quiet around him suddenly heavier, pressing at his chest. He wasn’t alone in this. But the thought brought little comfort...

Then—movement.

From the corner of his eye, shadows stirred. Not the ordinary kind cast by streetlights, but darker. Thicker. Familiar in a way that chilled his spine. And then—her voice. “Hello, Vector.”

Ray turned sharply, breath catching.

Stepping from the swirling darkness was a figure both ghostly and unmistakable. Skin pale as bone. Long hair flowing like ink a deep, midnight blue. Her dress was regal, almost ceremonial—white trimmed with blue and gold, shoulder pauldrons wide and proud. Her gloves matched the design, pristine and otherworldly. At her center gleamed a smaller version of Nasch’s Barian emblem. Her pink eyes were piercing, though cold and framed by the delicate drape of a jeweled diadem and its veiled gold net hanging over the back of her hair, while being adorned with green and red jewels. Red markings flared against her cheeks. The single green teardrop gem that hung from her golden diadem, catching the lamplight.

The Shadow of the Barian Marin.

Ray’s breath caught in his throat. No. This wasn’t right. Every Shadow before had gone after their original counterpart. Mizar’s had sought out Mizar. Dumon’s had come for Dumon and his own Shadow had targeted him… They followed a pattern. A rule. One that made this impossible–Marin’s shadow should’ve gone after Rio. Not him. And yet—there she stood.

Not merely an echo. Not a ghost.

A predator.

“We have a score to settle…” she said, voice soft and venomous, each syllable curling like smoke around him. It lingered between them—taunting, precise. Like the slow unsheathing of a blade meant for his throat.

Ray recoiled instinctively, his heart pounding with a sudden, sharper fear that pushed out the lingering confusion. This wasn’t just a confrontation—it was personal. Revenge. Before he could retreat, a thin, shadowlike rope shot out and coiled tightly around his wrist, pinning him in place. “You’re not thinking of running away are you?” the Shadow of Marin hissed, voice cold and cutting. “I always knew you were a coward…but I have a stage to set.”

With a sudden, sharp tug, she yanked Ray toward her causing him to stumble as he lost his footing. Crashing down hard to the ground at her feet. “This suits you, Vector—groveling at my feet for mercy you’ll never receive,” Marin’s Shadow sneered, casually flicking her hand through the air to summon a portal forth.

The scene shifted abruptly, the surroundings warping until Ray found himself sprawled on the cold stone floor of the familiar Barian throne room. The air was heavy with a cruel stillness. Marin’s Shadow’s own cruel smirk curling her lips. “A fitting stage for our final battle, wouldn’t you agree?” she taunted, her voice icy and dripping with venom.

Before Ray could respond, Marin’s boot slammed into his stomach, a sharp, calculated blow that knocked the air from his lungs. Stepping over him in the next moment like he was an afterthought, to stand tall beneath the steps leading to the throne, her Duel Disk manifesting on her arm. Ray lay gasping on the ground, doubled over as the sharp pain coursed through his body. Marin’s Shadow looming in the distance, uncaring—a living reminder that this small act of aggression was nothing compared to the suffering he had caused her. “Get up, Vector,” she snarled, eyes blazing with fury. “So I can knock you back down.”

Chapter Text

Darkness once more…

Cold, quiet darkness.

That was all Yuma knew for what felt like an eternity. His thoughts were foggy—an endless mist swirling inside his mind as he struggled to grasp what had even happened. A low groan escaping his lips as consciousness stirred, pushing him towards wakefulness. Then came the pain: a dull, persistent throb at the back of his skull that grounded him in his body again.

‘Where... am I...?’

It was the only thought he could form as his red eyes flickered open—not to the familiar sight of the campus fountain at the edge of the university quad, but to something far more unsettling. An unfamiliar, surreal space currently surrounded him. To which he couldn’t see beyond the dim, shadowy sphere he appeared to be suspended within—its walls undefined, like the edges of a bad dream. But this time he wasn’t asleep…

Yuma tried to move, but panic bloomed instantly as he realized he couldn’t. His arms, legs, even his torso were bound—restrained by writhing, semi-transparent tendrils of darkness, cold and unyielding.

‘What in the world is going on...? Wasn’t I just…waiting for Ray?’

His heartbeat surged, pounding in his ears. But before the panic could spiral further, a sharp electric crackle echoed through the void, and a holographic screen shimmered to life before him. At first, it was just static. Then, gradually, an image formed—revealing a towering, ornate room, foreign to him…and yet unmistakably the design in the aesthetic fit with that of Barian World. Orange and yellow crystal, illuminated giving off soft light–as red particles floated in the air. A looming throne at the far end a top ascending stairs identifying the site as some type of throne room.

And then—two figures appeared onscreen. Yuma’s breath caught.

Marin. One of the Seven Barian Emperors. Or rather, not Marin but her Shadow and lying on the ground a little in front of her—Yuma’s eyes went wide with horror.

Ray.

All the air left his lungs. The flicker of calm that had briefly stirred in his chest was violently snuffed out, replaced by a crashing wave of raw, soul-deep despair. “RAY!!!”

His scream tore from his throat like something broken and sharp. He struggled with every ounce of strength he had, thrashing against the shadows that held him. Arms, legs, chest—nothing would move. The tendrils only tightening in response, cold and merciless, biting into him like living restraints. A pain surging through him. But he didn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to meet at the fountain. Just the two of them. He was finally going to say it—after all this time, after all the fear.

He was going to tell Ray everything.

How Ray had been on his mind for so long. How every fight, every choice, every breath—somehow, always circled back to him. How Yuma loved him. And now—now that truth, that fragile, burning truth, was being ripped away. Right in front of his eyes as he watched on helplessly. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke?

Yuma thrashed against the shadows clawing at his limbs, a prisoner of something colder than darkness. He screamed. Fought. Begged. But the tendrils only dug in deeper, mocking his resistance with every pulse of pain. Yuma winced, gritting his teeth as another wave of agony shot through him–the soft trickle of blood descending down from where the restraints held.

He’d waited too long. And now, he might have to watch Ray die. Because of the Shadow of Marin. Because of the vengeance that was clearly festering inside her like a curse. She wasn’t just trying to destroy Vector—she wanted to destroy Ray. Erase him completely. Punish him for sins as Vector.

“Ray, please—” Yuma choked, his voice cracking as tears welled at the corners of his eyes. “Please, get up…”

“Don’t—don’t do this to me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Not now. Not when we’re so close...”

Within the dim confines of the shattered throne room, Ray lay motionless for a moment curled in on himself, head bowed, chest rising and falling in broken, ragged breaths. Then, slowly and painfully he moved. First one hand pressed to the ground, then the other. His legs shook beneath him as he fought to rise, the aftershock of Marin’s attack still coiling like fire through his limbs. But he stood barely and lifted his head, locking eyes with the shadow before him. His arm extending in answer to the challenge, summoning forth his Duel Disk.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you how this ends,” Marin’s Shadow said, voice hoarse but steady. “Once I win, I’ll be taking your powers for myself.”

There was a moment of silence. “Th-That... shouldn’t be possible…” Ray began, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to convince himself more than her—and they both knew it. As this Shadow wasn’t like the others before, not a remnant, not a ghost–something far worse.

“Poor Vector,” Marin’s shadow sneered, echoing his own voice from their final duel five years ago. “YOU really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Dark energy surged from her like a living thing. Shadows twisting and cracking around her form before erupting outward in a concussive blast. Ray was instantly thrown back, skidding across the floor before crashing hard against one of the pillars. A sharp gasp escaped him, followed by a cough and then a thin trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Poor, poor, poor Vector…” Marin’s Shadow continued to sneer, her voice cutting like a blade. “All alone. And no one’s coming—not that they’d care to, even if they could.”

The words hit Yuma harder as he watched from his isolation. His struggle against the bindings growing more frantic, more desperate. His wrists beginning to burn where the darkness held him tight—but in his mind, that pain was nothing compared to what Ray must have been feeling. “No… No, stop it!” he cried out, voice cracking with helpless fury. “Don’t lie to him! Ray’s… Ray’s not alone! He’s not!”

Yuma’s vision blurred—anger and panic boiling behind his eyes, drowning everything else. He wanted to run to Ray. To stand between him and whatever came next. To take the hit for him if it meant saving him. But he couldn’t. He was trapped. Forced to watch. Powerless.

Once more, Ray struggled to pull himself upright, one trembling hand wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. Before beginning to walk forward–each step slow and deliberate–a show of defiance wrapped in pain. “That’s it, Vector,” Marin’s Shadow jeered, laughing with cruel delight. “Fight for your pitiful little life!”

Ray’s left eye shifted to red as he retook his place on the field, raising his Duel Disk without a word. “Oh? No snarky comeback?” Marin’s Shadow taunted, her voice sharpening with each syllable. “Is the pathetic excuse of a Barian finally cracking?”

She leaned forward, malice gleaming. “Though, I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as your screams are satisfying.” She added, her Duel Disk sparking to life. “I draw!”

The Shadow of Marin placed a hand to her deck, drawing a single card with deliberate grace. “I start by activating the Spell Card—Shadow’s Throne.”

As the card hit the field, the air behind her split open. A portal opening wide, and from its depths, a throne began to rise—piece by piece, jagged obsidian roots clawing their way upward, anchoring to the shards that floated above in defiance of gravity. The seat was carved from living shadow, endlessly shifting and reshaping with each breath of the darkness around it. And at its heart pulsed a blazing sigil—an eye, or perhaps a wound, throbbing slowly with malevolent light. A heartbeat. Not of a creature—but of the abyss itself. “Given you were such a good sport during our last duel…” She said, her tone cruelly amused, “I’ll stand on your level—just this once. I equip Shadow’s Throne…to myself.”

She turned to face the monstrous structure as if drawn by an unseen force. The throne’s tendrils stirred, moving slowly, deliberately. Like they had been waiting for her. Marin’s Shadow stepping forward to allow the darkness to be answered. Tendrils uncoiling from the throne’s base, slithering through the air not like energy, but like living thoughts. They didn’t embrace her. They pierced her. Thin rivulets of blood marked the entry points where the shadows sank beneath her skin, threading into her veins like roots burrowing into cursed earth. Her body convulsed—not from pain, but from something else. Something deeper. She gasped—not in agony, but in what could only be called ecstasy.

Her silhouette arched backwards, lifted from the ground, as the throne behind her began to disassemble, melting into violet flame and liquid shadow. The energy pouring into her—spine, limbs, chest—her very essence engulfed in power. Her scream rang through the chamber, distorted and layered—something deeper beneath it. But it wasn’t a cry of suffering. It was a scream of becoming.

Her robes unraveled into ribbons of ink-black silk, then reformed around her—twisting into a regal, high-collared gown that clung to her like living shadow. Obsidian scales glittered across her skin in uneven patterns, the sigil of the throne now seared into her chest like a third eye, radiating pulsing light. Chains of dark energy lashed from her wrists to floating shards orbiting her body like dead moons. A fractured halo of violet crystal forming behind her head, rotating slowly, casting no warmth—only watchfulness.

Her feet no longer touched the ground. She floated, posture regal, expression unreadable. And when her eyes opened again they no longer seemed to be hers. Her irises were rimmed in deep crimson, her pupils twisted into spinning voids—eyes that didn’t look at you, but through you. Cosmic. Empty. Eternal.

Ray instinctively stepped back, a chill rushing down his spine. This wasn’t Marin. It wasn’t even her Shadow anymore. This was something else. Some twisted echo of Don Thousand’s Throne, reborn in the form of shadows. And if it worked anything like his… Ray’s jaw clenched. He’d need to end this in one turn. Anything less, and she’d just regain all her life points. “I end my turn,” the Shadow intoned, cutting cleanly through his thoughts.

Ray blinked, stunned. No monsters. No traps. No defensive field at all. A trap? A bluff? Or worse—an invitation? His hand trembled slightly as it hovered over his deck. The duel field felt heavier now, like it was suffocating him. From across the field, her voice slithered toward him like silk dipped in poison. “What’s wrong, Vector?” she purred. “Do my moves… shake your resolve?”

Ray closed his eyes and drew in a long, steady breath. His fingers hovered over his deck, trembling slightly. “I draw!”

The card slid free. Cold sweat beading at his temple as he glanced down at his hand. His mind racing–wondering if he should strike now, or wait? Questioning if the defensive or offensive style was better? Her field was wide open—no monsters, no set cards, no visible defenses. In a normal duel, it would be a dream scenario. But this? This felt more like a trap laid bare in front of him. A beautiful snare, its teeth hidden in shadow. His eyes flicked to his hand. If he had Umbral Horror Masquerade, he could destroy Shadow’s Throne outright and avoid ever having to find out how it worked, but the cards he’d drawn wouldn’t allow that. Not yet. So he’d be forced to test the waters and pray the tide didn’t swallow him whole.

Ray gritted his teeth and moved. “I summon—Umbral Horror Ghoul!” He exclaimed placing the card on the field and letting its ghoulish form manifest. “Now, Umbral Horror Ghoul attack!”

The creature didn’t hesitate going straight in for the direct assualt against the Shadow of Marin’s life points. Ray braced himself. Any second now—a Quick-Play, a counter trap, something… But nothing came. Marin’s Shadow didn’t flinch–her features lighting up in maddened delight. Her arms opening wide, embracing the coming strike, and when Ghoul’s attack registered—her Life Points plummeted from 4000 to 2200—a deranged laugh passing her lips in turn. “That’s it, Vector!” she howled, arms coiling around herself. Her eyes gleaming with unhinged joy. “Show us the monster you are!!!”

Ray took a shaky step back. Her laughter cut through him like broken glass. “I…set two cards and end my turn,” he muttered, barely above a whisper as he slid his cards into the set position.

The silence that followed didn’t comfort him. It curled around him like a noose. Then she moved. Marin’s Shadow slowly unwrapped her arms, lifting them to the heavens as a thick, oily aura of shadow welled up around her. It shimmered and shimmered before snapping—like tendrils bursting from an unseen ocean. “I activate Shadow’s Throne’s special ability…” she whispered in delight. “I regain the damage dealt to me.”

The shadows writhed with hunger. Tendrils shot toward her, latching onto her arms, her chest, her throat. Ray watched in horror as her Life Points ticked upward: 2200… 2800… 3500… 4000. Fully restored.

Ray’s eyes only widened, this seemed to be working just like Don Thousand’s Throne… But then—his blood ran cold. If that’s the case, then where did that life force come from? A whisper of panic clawed at the edge of his mind. And then the thought struck—too fast, too sharp. “Yuma,” he gasped. “Yuma!!”

The shadows dispersed—and Marin’s Shadow burst into wild laughter. “I wondered how long it would take you to realize…” She grinned. “You targeted my brother, so I thought it was only fair to target the one person you care about most!”

Ray’s breath caught in his throat. Marin’s Shadow leaning forward slightly merciliessly, her voice dipping to a cruel, almost conspiratorial whisper: “Of course, there is one minor difference between our situations, isn’t there?” Her eyes lit up in sheer delight–too knowing. “Nasch was a Barian.”

She let that hang in the air for a beat—long enough for it to sink in. “But Yuma?” she laughed, cold and cruel. “Yuma is just a human. Soft. Fragile. Breakable.”

Ray’s heart twisted in his chest. “Every point I gain is a point torn from his body. A bit of his breath, his warmth, his pulse.” Her voice dropped to a sick, velvet murmur. “You keep attacking, Vector… and he might not have anything left by the time you realize you've lost.”

She spread her arms again, shadows curling around her like a second skin. “So please…” she whispered, smiling with eyes like the void. “Keep playing the hero.”

The Shadow of Marin move one hand and swept it through the air like a stage magician unveiling her grandest trick. A shimmer tore through the darkness behind her, resolving into a glowing holographic screen. Static flickered and buzzed across it—then cleared. And for the first time since that morning… Ray saw him.

Yuma.

He hung suspended within a sphere of shadows, his body bound—arms, legs, even his chest wrapped tight in writhing, semi-transparent tendrils of darkness. Blood trickling from raw gashes where the restraints had bitten too deep into his wrists, the skin darkened with bruises from his unrelenting struggle. His head drooped forward, breath rattling in shallow, ragged gasps–like each inhale was another war he was barely survived. His skin was ghostly pale. A cold sheen of sweat clinging to him. And his eyes—usually so bright, so alive—flickered weakly beneath his lashes, their fire dimming under the weight of agony and exhaustion. His whole body trembling. He was still conscious—but only barely.

“Yuma…” Ray breathed, a tremor in his voice. His gut clenched as nausea and dread twisted through him.

“Come now, Vector,” Marin’s Shadow sneered, not even sparing a glance toward the image. “You didn’t really think there wouldn’t be consequences for your actions, did you?”

Her eyes gleamed, voice cutting deeper. “Did you actually believe you could just leave everything behind and go back to being ‘Ray’? That you could erase Vector like he never existed—and worse, think you deserved to be happy?”

She began to laugh. Unhinged. Cruel. Loud. “No one wants you back, Vector! No one wants you here!” She howled. “And the fact you honestly believed Yuma might love you? That’s not tragic. That’s pathetic.”

Her tone twisted further into venomous mockery. “Poor, deluded Vector…playing house with a fantasy. Yuma’s only humoring you out of pity! He only brought you back because he felt bad for you…He doesn’t love you—how could he? Who could love YOU?!”

Ray's shoulders trembled. His gaze dropped, pain knotting behind his eyes as they began to well with tears he couldn’t hold back. His throat burning a little. The Shadow of Marin cackled with delight. “Are you actually—crying?” She gasped, drunk on his despair. “Oh, this is better than I ever could have planned—!”

But Ray lifted his head, slowly. Eyes wet. Voice shaking—but steady. “…I don’t expect you to understand,” he said quietly.

She blinked, her laughter faltering just slightly. “I know I don’t deserve him,” Ray continued, chest rising and falling with every breath like it hurt to say it. “I know Yuma may never choose me. I know he probably can’t and if his love only ever amounts to friendship…”

He exhaled, eyes full of quiet, unshakable truth. “…Then at least I can still stand beside him. Now and forever.”

His voice cracked, but not from fear—from feeling. “I will always love Yuma,” Ray said, voice cracking with conviction. “Whether he loves me back or not. Whether he knows it or not. I’ll protect him, even if it breaks me. Even if I disappear. Because that’s what love is!”

He stood his ground, every inch of him shaking—but unyielding. “That’s right!”

The sudden voice cut through the tension like a blade. Marin’s Shadow whirled, startled—just as a crackling hum split the air behind Ray. A Barian portal tore open, light spilling out, and from it emerged the familiar figures one by one—Shark, Dumon, Mizar, Kite, Orbital 7 and Rio.

Ray’s eyes could only widen in disbelief. “This is so unfair,” Rio said, half-smirking as she stepped forward, trying to mask the gravity of the moment with dry humor. “I wanted a go at my Shadow. Next one’s mine, for sure.”

“Vector,” Dumon said firmly, voice as calm and grounded as ever. He took a confident step forward. “Focus on the Duel. Mizar and I will find Yuma.”

“I’ll help too,” Kite added, his gaze moving to his robot companion. “Orbital 7.”

“Ri-right away, Master Kite!” Orbital squawked, transforming into a jetpack and attaching onto Kite’s back with a mechanical snap.

Ray could only stare—frozen, stunned. They came. After everything. After all the hurt he’d caused. After all the sins he thought they’d never forgive. They came to stand with him. They believed in him. “…You’re really here,” Ray whispered, a tremor in his voice.

Nasch stepped forward, the faintest smile twitching at his lips. “Me and Rio will stay with Vec—” He caught himself. “With Ray.”

He met Ray’s eyes directly, voice steady. “You just worry about keeping her busy. The others will bring Yuma back.”

Nasch turned one last time to the others slowly approaching Dumon, leaning forward to give him brief but soft kiss. “Go.”

Dumon nodded. No words were needed as he, Mizar, and Kite disappeared through another portal, the mission understood. Shark and Rio moving to their respective positions to flank Ray, equipping their Duel Gazers without hesitation and standing with him as allies—as friends.

Still in disbelief, Ray stole one last glance at them before turning his attention back to Marin’s Shadow. He wasn’t standing alone anymore. And maybe, he never really had been. A soft, bittersweet smile ghosted across his face. He could do this.

For Yuma.

Chapter Text

For a moment, only silence reigned within the throne room. Marin’s Shadow remained floating in place, her narrowed gaze locked on Ray and the two figures who had dared to rally to his side. Shark and Rio. Her jaw twitched, the shadows around her rippling with an unstable pulses. Then crack—a shard of crimson crystal burst behind her, shattering and hailing down shards to the floor. Like a signal of her fraying composure. For a fleeting second, something almost human passed across her face. Rage.

But then—she laughed.

A slow, hollow chuckle at first, curling up from her throat like smoke. The sound building slowly, climbing in pitch and volume until her entire body shook with it. Her arms spread wide in a theatrical flourish, as if presenting a grand illusion to an imaginary audience. “Ohhh, isn’t this just adorable?” She sang, her voice syrupy with false delight. “And here I thought Vector didn’t have any friends left! What’s next, a group hug? A Barian Emperor family reunion?”

She twirled midair, the violet halo behind her flaring like a spotlight, casting long, fractured shadows across the throne room. The air pulsing with dark energy, reacting to her madness. Before her gaze snapping back to Ray. He stood with effort, trembling not from despair anymore—but pain. Yet, unfortunately still standing. “Poor little Vector,” she cooed, her tone sliding into venomous pity. “Is this really your support network? A few old enemies and a glorified toaster with wings?” Her eyes widened cruelly. “You must be so proud.”

The shadows near her coiled tighter, reacting to her rising malice. “Tell me, does their presence actually make you feel better? Or is this just the part where they swoop in, act like they care, and then leave the moment it gets inconvenient?”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with mock sympathy. “Come now, Vector. Be honest with yourself. They didn’t come for you.”

Her voice dropped lower next, more intimate, twisting around him like silk dipped in poison. “They came for Yuma. That’s the real reason, isn’t it?”

Her words hit like thorns, digging deep. “If it were just you all alone and broken, do you really think they would have bothered?”

She gave a soft, cruel sigh. “No. Of course they wouldn’t have—this whole rally to your defense is clearly a means to witness. To make sure every part of the ‘Vector’ you were is gone, that you’re no longer a liability. And if any part did survive, it’s only so they won’t have to feel guilty in front of Yuma when you fall.”

A sharp breath cut the silence. For a moment, it seemed as if Ray’s resolve had cracked—his gaze faltering, shoulders slackening ever so slightly. The weight of the Shadow’s words settling over him like chains, dragging at something deep and uncertain in his chest. Maybe she was right. Maybe this wasn’t about him. Maybe they truly only had come because of Yuma...

But Rio saw it. Her jaw tensing, Duel Gazer flashing as she took a bold step forward, fists clenching at her sides. “You don’t get to twist this!” She snapped, her voice low, sharp with tightly held fury. “You don’t know anything about us. Not me. Not my brother. And definitely not Ray.”

Her eyes blazing with a fire. “You’re the one stuck in the past—while me and my brother have long since moved on!”

Standing on the opposite side of Ray, Shark’s deep blue eyes narrowed his expression unreadable. But he didn’t lash out. He didn’t raise his voice. Instead, a slow controlled breath escaped him. “You talk a lot for a Shadow,” he said evenly, his gaze like tempered steel. “But all I’m hearing is someone too scared to take their turn in a Duel.”

Marin’s Shadow froze, her confidence twitching—yet still there, despite being thinner now. A hairline fracture in her theatrical calm. The shadows around her shifting in kind, no longer pulsing with pride, but with something more defensive. More uncertain. “And if you really think I came all this way just to watch him fall…” Shark’s gaze drifted back to Ray, not cold, nor judging, just steady and grounded. Real. “…Then you’ve forgotten who I am.”

He turned back to her fully, his voice sharpening with purpose. “So let me remind you.”

The air around him shimmered, the pressure of power barely restrained. “I’m Nasch, the leader of the Barian Seven Emperors,” he said, voice rising with certainty. “And I stand behind all of the Emperors.”

He stepped forward, his Duel Gazer glinting. “So quit wasting our time and make your move—or surrender. Because you made a bad move coming after one of my Emperors.”

Ray was silent, perhaps stunned into a state of shock. Just moments ago, he’d felt himself giving in to the flicker of doubt—a small flame threatening to burn away any confidence he’d fought to regain. But now, something else stirred…something unfamiliar. There was a strange weight in Rio and Shark’s presence, the fact that they stood by him as allies—perhaps this was appreciation?

His eyes met Nasch’s steady gaze, then shifted to Rio’s fierce determination. A flicker of gratitude softened the pain behind his trembling resolve. Without words, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod—an unspoken thanks and a quiet acknowledgment that maybe he wouldn’t have to face things alone anymore—or at least, not only with Yuma at his side.

Annoyance now flickered behind the Shadow of Marin’s eyes as she finally moved, placing her hand to her Duel Disk with pointed deliberation. Her grip tightened. She would break Vector—mind, body, or soul. “I draw!”

Her eyes flicked over the card—the cruelness blooming once more. “Time for a blast from the past,” she sneered. “I summon Blizzard Thunderbird!”

The creature burst onto the field in a flash of purple and gold—a humanoid avian form with jagged, crackling wings. “Then I activate Blizzard Vision! By targeting my WATER monster, it transforms into a second Blizzard Thunderbird!”

Another copy shimmered into existence beside the first the instant the card was registered. “Now I overlay my two Level 4 Monsters: Blizzard Thunderbirds—to build the Overlay Network!” she cried, her voice rising with dramatic cadence. “I Xyz Summon—Number 103: Ragnazero!”

Blue light surged upward as the monsters spiraled into the Overlay Network, reforming into a lithe, elegant humanoid form clad in a white and crimson dress accented in gold. But Marin’s Shadow wasn’t finished. “Now,” she hissed, “I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force!”

The Overlay Network erupted anew, energy spiraling like a maelstrom as Ragnazero rose into the air—then vanished within the swirling vortex. “Come forth—Chaos Number 103: Ragnafinity!”

The darkness coalesced into a new form—Ragnafinity, emerging with jagged black wings and a crown of black horns accented in violet. Her long skirt a deep purple and steel-grey, like sharpened blades served as accents. A crimson core pulsed–descending from her chest, and in her hands she gripped a massive twin-bladed scythe, with accents of golden spirals. “Now the fun begins,” Marin’s Shadow grinned. “I activate my Spell Card—Shadowlash Echo! By paying 400 Life Points, you also take the same damage!”

She slammed the card onto her Duel Disk without mercy. Shadowy tendrils bursting forth, racing across the space with malicious speed—then slamming directly into Ray’s chest. The impact flinging him into the air like a ragdoll, torn from the side of the allies who had only just begun to stand with him. As if Marin’s Shadow meant to erase their presence—to hurl him back into that cold void of isolation. His Life Points dropped from 4000 to 3600 in the attack’s wake. And while Marin’s Shadow took the damage too–she only laughed in delight, as if the drop from 4000 to 3600 had merely tickled. Especially, compared to the pain she planned next for Ray…

Ray crashed to the stone with a brutal crack, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. Vision swimming for a moment as fresh blood trickled from a split along his temple, hot and dizzying. But the Shadow gave him no time to recover. “Now—Chaos Number 103: Ragnafinity, destroy Umbral Horror Ghoul!”

Ragnafinity spun her massive scythe in one graceful, deadly arc–then struck. Launching the weapon through the air and as it collided with Umbral Horror Ghoul, the monster vanished in an instant. Rays 3600 life points now dropped to 2600 as he was sent skidding again—down the polished blue stone path that led awat from the throne steps. His body slammed and rolled leaving a few blood streaks along the ground behind him. He curled in on himself once more in response to the pain, clutching his ribs as pain swept through him like fire.

Still no mercy. Still no pause.

Marin’s Shadow stood tall—cold, triumphant, and merciless. Across the field, Rio’s expression twisting in horror. “This...this isn’t even a duel,” she muttered, her voice tight with disbelief. “My Shadow’s just toying with him…trying to break him.”

There was real fear behind her words now. Her gaze stayed locked on Ray’s crumpled form, barely moving, blood still stained along the stone floor. “He’s not going to be able to keep dueling at this rate…”

Shark didn’t look away from the field. His arms were folded, but there was tension in his stance–controlled, measured. “Then it’s a good thing we showed up,” he said flatly. But there was something in his tone, respect, maybe. Or perhaps resolve as he glanced toward Ray, his voice lowering just enough to carry weight. “But I don’t think Ray’s going to give up. Not with Yuma on the line.”

Ray’s body trembled where he lay, still curled in on himself. Every breath was shallow—pain flaring through every inch of his frame like splintered glass. Blood trickling from the corner of his mouth from a fresh wound–self-inflicted from biting down too hard during the impact. He wanted to move, to stand but his limbs screamed in protest, too battered, too weak.

His vision was swimming as well—blurred shapes, streaks of shadow and light bleeding into one another. The sounds of the Duel had begun to grow distant as well, replaced by a dull ringing in his ears and the oppressive pulse of darkness wrapping itself around the air like smoke. He couldn’t even tell if anyone was still speaking. The idea of closing his eyes, just for a moment, was almost tempting. It would be so easy to give in. To let the darkness swallow him. But then—‘Ray... don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me!’

Yuma’s voice. Clear, warm and real. It didn’t come from the battlefield. It came from somewhere deeper—etched into his soul, where a promise had been made. A connection not even pain could sever. “…Yuma…” he whispered, breath hitching.

His fingers twitched and his teeth clenched as he forced his limbs to move—bit by bit dragging himself into a sitting position on his hands and knees. The pain didn’t stop and the fear hadn’t vanished. But now, it was quieter—dwarfed by the memory of Yuma’s smile. The hope in his voice. The warmth in his outstretched hand. He wanted so desperately to see it again…

Ray’s hands slowly pressed firmly to the ground. Slowly finding the strength to push himself upright. “…I’m not done,” he hissed, breath ragged. “Not yet…”

A sinister gleam lit in the Shadow of Marin’s eyes at his defiant words. “Oh good, because neither am I!” she sneered. “And since you’re still standing, maybe this will be the one to keep you down for good. I activate the Quick-Play Spell Shadow Echo Slash! By paying half my life points and halving Ragnafinity’s ATK until the end of this turn, she can attack again! So let’s have a little more fun—Ragnafinity, strike once more!”

Still unphased, the Shadow of Marin’s life points once more dropped this time from 3600 to 1800 life points. Ragnafinity’s power dropping as well to 1400 as its scythe spun again before launching with cruel precision. Rio's breath caught–horror written plainly on her face. Even Shark looked momentarily stunned by how relentless for which the Shadow played. This wasn’t a Duel anymore–it was a merciless beatdown. The Shadow wasn’t trying to win by points. She was trying to win by breaking him. And she was close given how he could barely stand.

Ragnafinity soared forward, scythe raised. The Shadow of Marin’s laughter echoing within the chamber with a warped, hungry sound to it. To the Shadow it no longer mattered if Vector had any lifepoints left, if he couldn’t stand–and if his ‘so called allies’ refused to take his place she would automatically win the Duel by default.

“I activate my Trap—Shining Stunt!” Ray's voice cracked through the air–rasped, hoarse, but still there. “Your attack damage is halved–and your Battle Phase ends!”

The Trap flipped on the field, casting a protective burst of light as Ragnafinity’s scythe struck. The impact less brutal than the ones that seemed to come before. The 1400 points of attack damage becoming 700, and Ray’s life points dropping only to 1900.

Even so, the hit knocked him back to his knees. Blood matted the corner of his mouth. His arms trembling as he tried to push himself upright again—but he didn’t collapse. His eyes remained clouded and pained but still held something clear at the center.

Yuma…

He clung to that thought like a lifeline.

At this point Rio had rushed to his side, falling to one knee beside him, hands reaching to steady his shoulder. “Ray!” she called, worry lacing her words–the fact that she was scared for him apparent.

Across the field, her Shadow scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Tch. What’s one more turn…”

She feigned disappointment, only for her expression to twist into sinister delight. “After all... Shadow’s Throne effect activates! And now...I recover all the damage I took this turn!”

Once again, familiar shadowy tendrils lashed out and latched onto her body, her Life Points rising from 1800 back to 4000. A distressed scream echoing from the holographic interface still being broadcast behind the Shadow–drawing everyone’s attention.

Yuma.

His body convulsed violently as more of his lifeforce was drained from him, siphoned to sustain Shadow Marin’s life points. His eyes dulling even more as his head sagged, and a single tear tracing down his cheek. “...Ray…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yuma!” Ray cried out in horror, instantly pulling himself up to stagger forward. His panic was raw, rising like a tide as the reality of the Shadow’s Duel crashed down on him again.

“How cute,” Marin’s Shadow cooed mockingly, brushing her fingers through her hair. “He’s still worried about you–when really, he should be more worried about himself.”

She tilted her head, voice turning cold. “Say... I wonder just how much more he can take. Don’t you?”

She waited just long enough before twisting the knife further. “You didn’t actually think I’d rely on you solely attacking to activate this card’s effect, did you? I had to guarantee you'd suffer. This deck—” She spread her arms theatrically “—was crafted to torment you. Every turn. Yours. Mine. And all the while poor little Yuma gets caught in the midst of our battle…”

Her cruel giggle rang out excitedly. “L-Let him go! I’m begging you!” Ray shouted, his voice cracking.

“Let him go?” The Shadow echoed, feigning confusion. Then her tone dropped into something venomous. “Like you did to me, when my brother pleaded for my life?”

Her eyes narrowed, gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. “How deviously cruel of you, Vector. But unlike you... I want you to see it. The moment the last tiny rays of light leave his eyes–and the realization that you failed finally sinks in. Of course...if you want it to end so badly, you could always surrender.”

Ray faltered, the pain, the guilt and the threat–it was all written on his face and he was considering it. But Shark stepped forward, sharp and unwavering. “He’s not surrendering,” he said, voice firm like steel. “Our friends are fighting right now to reach Yuma. You won't have your shield much longer.”

Rio’s own focus was on her Shadow’s threat as well but eyes shifted instead to focus on Ray. He was still shaking, torn between fear and guilt, his gaze locked on the holographic image of Yuma. Doubt clouding his focus, the kind Shadow Marin thrived on. “Ray,” Rio said quietly, her voice cutting through the haze like crystal-clear water over scorched stone.

Ray’s eyes shifted towards her. “Yuma’s going to be okay.” Her tone didn’t waver, not even a whisper of hesitation. “You need to focus on this Duel. He’s fighting for you–fighting for the chance to stand by your side again.”

She stepped closer, steady and unwavering. “So be there for him when he returns. Don’t let her win. Win this Duel… for Yuma.”

Ray drew a slow breath, his hands clenching at his sides as his gaze sharpened. The panic didn’t vanish completely—but Rio’s words gave him something stronger to hold onto.

Purpose.

Across the field, Marin’s Shadow scowled. “Fine. If you still think you can win… I set one card and end my turn.”

Shark’s gaze narrowed at the Shadow before shifting briefly to Ray–battered, barely upright, with Rio still standing beside him, doing her best to support him. “…I’ve had enough of this, Shadow.” His voice was low, firm–more command than comment, as he focused squarely on Ray. “Finish this.”

Ray nodded weakly, his hand trembling as he reached for his deck. “My turn… I draw.”

His fingers barely managed to grasp the top card and pull it free. He blinked—and for a moment, just one—hope flickered in his eyes. Umbral Horror Ghoul. Finally, the card he needed. With it, and the cards in his hand, he could summon Masquerade—then rank it up into a Chaos Xyz Monster. And once that happened…Yuma would be safe.

Ray drew in a steady breath. “I activate… Monster Reborn!” he called, sliding the card into place. “With it, I bring back Umbral Horror Ghoul!”

He reached into his Graveyard and summoned the monster back to the field. “Next–I summon a second Umbral Horror Ghoul from my hand!”

Another identical monster now joined the first. “Then I activate Ghoul’s effect,” he continued. “By reducing its ATK to 0, I Special Summon Umbral Horror Unform from my hand!”

With rising determination, he placed the final card. His third Level 4 monster took the field–the stage finally set for his Xyz Summon. But before he could act– “Ooooh, gooooodie~!” Marin’s Shadow cackled. “Then I activate Ragnafinity’s special ability! By detaching one Chaos Overlay Unit…you take damage equal to the difference between your monster’s original ATK and its current!”

Ray stiffened, but didn’t panic. No negation, no trap. Just damage. He braced himself but the blast of energy slammed into him with brutal force. His Life Points plummeting from 1900 to 100. He cried out–sharp, unfiltered pain ripping through him. His body crumpling to the ground, crashing to his hands and knees. His limbs shook violently and his remaining card scattered from his grasp like a dead leaf. His breathing turning shallow, ragged as the pain intensified. And then—his vision fractured. Not blurred. Gone. A black void had swallowed everything. His surroundings fell away. And as he blinked, nothing.

He couldn’t see. Couldn’t see anything.

“Really, Vector?” Marin’s Shadow purred, her voice dripping with mockery. “Just stay down. As much as I enjoy watching your torment and trust me, I do–you’d save yourself a whole lot more pain by just giving up.”

Ray’s hands fumbled across the stone floor, searching blindly for his fallen card. Confusion clouding his features and panic flickering at the edge of his breath. That’s when Rio moved. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees beside him, her movements smooth and steady. As she grabbed the card with practiced hands, before moving to support him–slipping one of his arms across her shoulders and helping him up. “I’ve got you,” she said quietly, her voice low but unwavering. “Come on, Ray. We’ll do this together.”

She pressed the recovered card into his shaking hands, guiding his grip gently. “You made it this far,” she whispered. “So let me be your eyes, so you can finish it.”

A few steps away, Shark stood silently but the sharpness in his gaze, the tension in his shoulders, said everything. “You’re still in the Duel,” he said, voice edged with steel. “Your field’s set to bring out Masquerade. Make your move.”

Ray’s eyes slid shut. Trying to focus through all the pain, fear and guilt. To find that last bit of strength…and then he saw it.

Yuma. Smiling. Reaching out.

Ray’s breath shuddered in his chest. His grip tightening on his remaining card. “…Ready when you are,” he murmured, opening his eyes despite the same darkness greeting him there.

“I overlay my two Umbral Horror Ghouls and Umbral Horror Unform–and build the Overlay Network!”

The three monsters dissolved into streams of light, spiraling upwards. The Overlay Network shimmering into existence above the field. Rio didn’t miss a beat. She reached toward Ray’s Extra Deck and, with practiced precision, pulled free Number 104: Masquerade, placing it firmly on his Duel Disk. “I Xyz Summon… Number 104: Masquerade!” Ray’s voice was rasped—strained but steady. Despite the pain surging through his body, he lifted his arm to meet the summoning, Rio’s support grounding him.

Number 104: Masquerade emerging swiftly after its summon to take its place on the battlefield. “Now I activate… Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force!”

Rio acted once more, immediately pulling the Spell from Ray’s hand and activating it with confidence. Then she moved to draw from his Extra Deck, retrieving Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade. “I rebuild the Overlay Network to summon… Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade!”

Masquerade dissolved into particles, shooting back into the swirling Overlay Network. Moments later, its evolved form arriving, Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade joining the field. The atmosphere rippling with its arrival. Ray inhaled shakily, then continued–his voice gaining strength: “Umbral Horror Masquerade’s effect activates. When it’s summoned, I can destroy one Spell or Trap card on the field. I’m targeting… Shadow’s Throne!”

As the effect activated the Spell card on the Shadow of Marin’s side dissolved as it was removed from play–the tether draining Yuma’s life force severed. And forcing Marin’s Shadow back to her normal Barian appearance. The Shadow’s expression twitched, her façade of control cracking for a moment. “You’re really starting to piss me off,” she spat, venom behind her words—but Ray wasn’t listening anymore.

His mind focused on the only thing that mattered. It was done. He’d done it. Yuma was safe. And with that realization, the world around him seemed to dull—not from pain, but from the sheer weight that lifted from his chest. His trembling body slackened slightly, shoulders sagging with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. A tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. No sobs. No sound. Just a silent, shaking release—exhaustion spilling into quiet relief.

At his side, Rio gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Her breath caught, lips parting as surprise softened into something quieter. Understanding. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She simply stayed–steady, grounding.

On his other side, Shark stood with arms crossed, gaze narrowing–not at Ray, but at the Shadow still looming across the field. Then his eyes flicked back to Ray. No judgment in them, just something weightier. Respect, maybe. But he said nothing. He didn’t have to.

Ray had done what he set out to do. He had protected what mattered. Yuma was safe. And that thought caused a small, fragile smile to begin to form on his lips.

But then the world tilted.

The pain he’d kept locked away surging back–fierce, unrelenting. His Duel Disk dragged at his arm like iron. Even his eyelids felt too heavy, every breath harder than the last. The ground beneath him no longer felt real–unsteady and oddly distant.

His smile faltered.

And then…everything gave way. Darkness rushed in to meet him, and Ray felt himself falling.

Chapter Text

The tension of the duel still clung to the air like smoke, heavy and choking. But then, a sudden burst of light fractured the stillness. A portal of Barian magic tearing open at the edge of the throne room. Mizar emerged first, eyes narrowing as they swept the Duel field with practiced sharpness. Dumon following, steps measured yet urgent and immediately striding toward Nasch with unmistakable concern. Kite appeared next, carefully supporting Yuma’s weakened state–while Orbital 7 remained at the other side of Kite

Yet, none of them were prepared for what they walked into.

Shark stood tall, jaw tight, his eyes silently watching Rio as Dumon joined him to take his hand in his. Beside Shark, Rio was kneeling beside Ray, who lay slumped and bloodied on the floor. While the Shadow of Marin loomed at the bottom of the throne’s steps–but at this time no one was looking at her.

Yuma’s gaze slowly followed theirs—and froze.

“…Ray?” It was barely a whisper, barely more than a breath. But the panic hit like a bolt of lightning.

“Ray!”

Yuma broke from Kite’s hold before anyone could stop him, his legs trembling with each step as he rushed forward. He fell hard to his knees beside Ray, pulling him up into his arms without hesitation. “Ray!” he cried again, the desperation cracking in his voice, tears already beginning to fall.

For a moment, Ray didn’t move. His body was so still Yuma feared he was too late—that the dream he'd had, of losing him forever, had become reality.

Then softly, like the last ember of a dying fire, Ray stirred.

Flickering purple eyes opened, hazy and unfocused, but somehow still managing to lock onto Yuma. His trembling hand rose weakly, fingers brushing against Yuma’s cheek and wiping away a tear with the barest whisper of touch. “...Yuma,” he breathed.

Even through the haze, there was a light in his eyes. Relief, pure and overwhelming. The one thing he’d held out for was here. Safe and alive. Yuma continued to cradle Ray in his arm moving a hand over his. “I’m here—I’m right here.”

Ray tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Before finally, his lips curved faintly into a broken smile as he whispered, “I’m sorry…”

“No—no, don’t say that,” Yuma shook his head, his tears falling freely now, staining Ray’s pale skin. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t you dare apologize!”

Ray’s eyes fluttered. The pain was unbearable, but so was the peace that was trying to take him. “I’m not… going to be able to keep my promise,” he whispered.

Yuma’s face shifted in horror and gut wrenching panic. “What are you saying?” His grip tightened, as if sheer will could anchor Ray to him.

A sad, worn smile tugged at the corners of Ray’s lips. “...I’m saying goodbye for now,” he said softly, voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes.

Yuma shook his head desperately, refusing the words—refusing the weight behind them.

Ray’s trembling fingers moved with effort, reaching for the black necklace around his neck. Slowly, he pulling it free, the crimson Baria Crystal catching the fading light. “No… I can’t take this!” Yuma cried out, his hands shaking as Ray pressed the necklace into his palm. “You promised, Ray!”

“...This isn’t goodbye forever…” Ray murmured. “Just…please, Yuma…wait for me.”

His hand slipped from Yuma’s cheek, heavy and still. Panic rising in Yuma’s chest as he caught Ray’s hand tightly within his, the Baria Crystal trapped between their palms. “Ray?! Ray—RAY!”

Ray’s breathing was shallow, heartbeat slowed—but still there. Still fighting. And yet the stillness of his form terrified Yuma more than anything. Yuma remained bowed over him as he held Ray, voice cracking. “Ray, please…! You can’t leave me. I—I can’t do this without you…” Yuma pleaded pulling him closer, the Barian’s fragile form cradled to his chest. “I love you…”

There was a faint almost peaceful smile that lingered on Ray’s face even in his unconsciousness. Yuma’s tears continuing to stain Ray’s face as he tightened his grip, his despair clear to his friends around him as he cried out in desperation. Pushing Kite to step forward, eyes narrowed with urgency. “Orbital 7!” he snapped.

“Ri-Ri-Right away, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 buzzed, moving in fast. “Initiating emergency stabilization protocols now!”

Mizar folded his arms, watching the scene grimly. “You’d be wasting your time using a machine. Barian crystals are far more effective at sustaining his energy.”

Kite shot him a look. “Funny. I don’t see you using them.”

Mizar huffed, clearly annoyed, but stepped forward regardless. “For Vector to recover properly, it will be OUR doing. The limitations of your Earth technology can only take him so far—”

“Enough,” Dumon interjected firmly, stepping between them with calm authority. “We act together. He needs stability, not another argument.”

Even Shark, usually the first to throw back a cutting remark—remained silent. Arms crossed as his gaze lingering on Ray, the hardened line of his mouth doing little to hide the tension behind his eyes.

Kneeling beside Yuma, Rio gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was soft, steady—a silent gesture of solidarity. “Yuma…” she began, voice low with empathy. But her words faltered as her gaze drifting upwards—landing on the Shadow version of herself, still standing at the base of the steps, expression twisted in irritated defiance.

Rio’s eyes sharpened with resolve. “Yuma, stay with Ray. He needs you more than anything right now,” she said, giving his shoulder a final reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to end this.”

She rose, activating her Duel Disk with a snap of purpose. The light of the disk flared against her determined expression as she stepped forward to face her Shadow in Ray’s place. Across the field, the Shadow of Marin remained displeased by the interruption of what she considered her rightful victory. But Rio was done, she’d had enough. “This battle was always meant for me. And now you've hurt not just one of my friends—but two. You're going to pay for that.”

Rio took a few steps away from Yuma’s side, leaving him surrounded by allies now working to stabilize Ray. Her own gaze never wavering from the figure that still lingered at the base of the throne. There would be time for grief and healing later–after she finished what Ray had started. After she ended this. She stepped forward, Duel Disk igniting as she raised her voice. “I believe it’s still my turn.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement–Shark stepping up beside her. His expression was hard, but his voice carried quiet encouragement. “You’ve got this, Rio.”

A flicker of a smirk touched her lips, and she nodded once. “Umbral Horror Masquerade—attack Ragnafinity!”

The field ignited with energy as Umbral Horror Masquerade launched forward with its attack–Ragnafinity shattering into shards of light, and the Shadow of Marin’s Life Points dropping from 4000 to 3800.

The damage was small—but the momentum had shifted. Rio stood tall, her own Life Points barely clinging at 100, but her resolve was unshakable. She wasn’t afraid. She was angry and determined. Ray had risked everything and she’d finish this duel so he could rest—so Yuma could find peace—and so they all could continue moving forward.

From across the field, the Shadow of Marin’s eyes narrowed. “Risking your life for Vector makes no sense… You remember what he’s done—to US. And all the suffering caused because of him. And yet you still fight for him?” Her voice curled in cold disdain before shifting into something darker. “Still… if I can’t finish him, claiming your body as a new vessel will be a more than acceptable trade.”

There was a brief pause and then the Shadow triggered their set card in response to the attack. “I activate the Trap—Shadow’s Price!”

“While I was hoping to save this for Vector, if he insisted on surviving…” the Shadow of Marin sneered. “You’ll have to do. My Trap–Shadow’s Price, halves what little Life Points you have left.”

From beneath Rio, black shadowy tendrils erupted—grasping at her ankles and wrists. Dark energy pulsing as they drained 50 Life Points from her already critical 100. Her life points dropping to 50. The pain crackled through her—but Rio didn’t so much as flinch. Compared to what Ray had endured, it was nothing. And it only fed into her resolve as her eyes narrowed, fire igniting behind them. “I end my turn.”

“Then this… is the end,” the Shadow hissed, drawing a card with a theatrical flourish before instantly playing it. “I activate Shadow Override. Since I control no monsters, I can take permanent control of yours.”

With the cards swift activation Umbral Horror Masquerade vanished from Rio’s field—reappearing on the side of the Shadow of Marin. “You see now don’t you? This was hopeless from the start. You should have let me finish Vector off! But you vainly insisted you could win–well now it is over, Umbral Horror Masquerade, attacks you directly!”

The creature began its attack but Rio’s voice rang out, sharp and clear. “You think Ray didn’t leave anything for me? I activate my Trap—Damage Pot! Any damage I would’ve taken is absorbed into Damage Pot instead!”

A demonic pot materialized in front of her, sucking in the attack like a vacuum and leaving Rio remaining standing at her 50 life points—braced but undeterred as the 3000 damage was stored. A snarl twisting across the Shadow’s face. “Tch. I end my turn.”

The field was nearly empty. The Shadow had no cards in her hand and only Rio’s stolen monster on her field. This was it. Rio’s hand reached with ease to remove a card from her deck. “My turn! I draw!”

With a flick of her wrist, she moved into position setting a card on her Duel Disk. “I summon Blizzard Falcon!”

Instantly a blue, crystalline bird took to the field. “Next, I activate my Spell—Land of Frozen Flames! This allows Blizzard Falcon to be treated as two monsters when I Xyz Summon!”

Rio thrust her hand upwards with unwavering determination. “I overlay my two monsters and build the Overlay Network! I Xyz Summon Number 103: Ragnazero!”

A brilliant burst of particles spiraled before entering the swirling portal and soon her Number appeared—elegant and poised, a vision of cold vengeance. A prelude to the reckoning coming as Rio was far from being done. “Now, I activate Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One!”

She activated her card with ease as her hand once more raised high. “I rebuild the Overlay Network once more—and Xyz Summon Chaos Number 103: Ragnafinity!”

Once more, shards of light spiraled into the swirling portal as Number 103: Ragnazero dissolved into pure energy to enter into the Overlay Network. Reemerging in the brilliance that was Chaos Number 103: Ragnafinity, who took her place on Rio’s field. Her Chaos Number landed in a graceful arc, scythe spinning in hand, focus locked onto its stolen monster.

Rio didn’t hesitate. “I activate the Spell—Distortion Crystal!” she declared, voice unwavering. “Until the End Phase, any change in your monster’s ATK is doubled!”

“And now comes the spell that seals it—Zero Blade!”

She slapped the card into place on her Duel Disk. “Your monster loses 1000 attack points...and with Distortion Crystal in play, that amount is doubled to 2000!”

With the activation and combined efforts of Rio’s two Spell Cards Umbral Horror Masquerade’s attack points dropped down to 1000 attack points. “Now you will pay!” Rio shouted, voice tight with fire. “Ragnafinity—attack Umbral Horror Masquerade!”

Her Chaos Number spun its scythe before launching it directly at Umbral Horror Masquerade. The spinning blade struck true—cleaving through the stolen monster with devastating finality as it broke into particles. The Shadow of Marin’s Life Points dropping from 3800 to 2000 in result.

But Rio wasn’t finished. “And don’t even think about getting your hopes up! Zero Blade’s second effect activates—Ragnafinity can attack a second time!” She pointed directly at the Shadow, her voice unwavering. “You hurt my friends—Yuma, and Ray. Its only fitting this punishment comes as pair!”

“Ragnafinity—attack directly!!”

Ragnafinity twirled its scythe once more launching it directly into the Shadow for one final attack. The Shadow of Marin’s Life Points dropping from 2000 to 0 as 2800 points of damage was dealt. The Shadow’s form twisting as it faded into nothing—leaving only its essence and silence behind.

Rio lowered her Duel Disk slowly, her breath catching. The nightmare…was over. She took a single step forward, knees trembling slightly from adrenaline and exhaustion. “...I did it, Ray,” she whispered, voice cracking just slightly. Her eyes lifted toward the others gathered around him. “It’s over…”

For a moment longer Rio lingered, standing tall in the face of her victory. Her breath slowed as she allowed the silence to settle, the weight of battle finally easing from her shoulders. Her gaze shifted to the last flickering remnant of her Shadow—what remained of the darkness that had tested her resolve and nearly broken Ray. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and extended her hand. The essence shimmering before flowing into Rio, restoring her Barian powers. With the simple act completed she turned to find Shark already waiting, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not bad, Rio,” Shark said, his voice dry but laced with a glimmer of pride. “Guess you can actually win duels.”

Rio raised an eyebrow. “Just wait until you fight your Shadow. Let’s see if you’re still feeling cocky after that.”

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t answer–their eyes instead drifting past each other and settling on the allies...on Yuma, still kneeling with Ray in his arms. Ray remained pale and unconscious causing the weight of everything to all come crashing back.

The humor vanished from Shark’s face as his gaze hardened. “Yuma’s gonna need us.”

Rio nodded, her teasing tone gone. “He’s not going to take this well.”

“He already looks like he’s breaking,” Shark murmured. “And with how much Ray means to him...” He trailed off, then continued, softer now. “We can’t leave him alone. Not with everything he’s already been carrying.”

“We won’t,” Rio said, firm and certain. “We’ll take shifts and ensure someone’s with him at all times.”

Shark nodded slowly. “He’ll need time. Ray will too. But we’ll be there. Every step.”

They didn’t need to say more. Between them, it was understood. No matter how long it took, they would stand by Yuma and help carry the weight until he could again.

Chapter Text

Mizar’s portal shimmered shut behind them, closing off the battle they left behind and leaving only silence in its wake. He, Kite, Orbital 7 and Yuma now stood on the familiar grounds of the Tsukumo residence–a modest, traditional-styled home nestled quietly within the sleek, modern sprawl of Heartland City. Its comforting familiarity was at odds with the ache pressing down on them, the streetlights casting long, quiet shadows across the entrance, as if the house itself sensed the heaviness they carried back with them.

The weight of the Duel and the loss that came with it clung to Yuma like the shadows themselves. His fingers curled tightly around the Baria Crystal now resting against his chest–the same one Ray had placed in his palm not so long ago. Cold and unyielding, it seemed to pulse with the echo of Ray’s fading voice.

‘...I’m saying goodbye for now…please, Yuma…wait for me.’

His shoulders began to tremble. Tears gathered again, blurring his vision before they fell silently, carving lines down his cheeks. The pain gripping him tight. This was his fault. If he hadn’t been so careless, if he hadn’t gotten captured–he could have been at Ray’s side. He could’ve fought with him, protected him. Like they had always done when they faced Ray’s own Shadow. Maybe then, Ray wouldn’t have had to suffer alone. Maybe then, they could’ve come home together. Just like they were meant to.

This was supposed to be their night. The moment where feelings, long buried and tender, could finally be spoken freely. Where the ache that had built between them could be softened and replaced by something whole. Something real. But that had been torn away, and in its place was only grief.

Yuma gripped the Baria Crystal tighter, knuckles whitening. His head bowed low, hiding the tears that fell freely now, the dim light casting stark shadows across his face. The pain inside him twisted cruelly as Ray’s words echoed in his mind again, replaying over and over like a broken promise. Ray had always felt unworthy–always held himself back, thinking he didn’t deserve Yuma’s love. And Yuma, hadn’t been able to stop him from carrying that weight. Hadn’t even given him the comfort of hearing the truth: that he did deserve it. That they could be happy.

Instead, all that remained was silence. And the desperate hope that somehow, Ray had heard him. Yuma shook, biting back a sob. He wanted to wake up. He wanted this to be like the nightmare from the night before–just another cruel illusion that would fade with dawn. But the cold against his chest said otherwise.

This was real. Too real.

Kite's gaze involuntarily shifted toward Yuma, his heart tightening at the sight. Yuma's usual vibrant energy was replaced by a haunting stillness. His wrists and ankles bore the marks of restraint–deep, purple bruises with dried blood staining his skin. And the toll of having his life force drained left him pale, his once-bright red eyes now dulled with exhaustion and sorrow. His shoulders sagging under an invisible weight, as Yuma remained clinging to the Baria Crystal necklace Ray had given him for support.

Kite's protective instincts couldn’t help but flare. Silently vowing to tend to Yuma's injuries once they reached his room. Though the physical wounds would be easier to address than the invisible scars of grief. “Come on, Yuma...let's get you settled in,” Kite said gently.

Yuma didn't respond, his silence louder than words. He followed Kite's lead, but his steps were heavy, as if each one took more effort than the last. Yet, as they approached the door, Kite paused turning his attention to Mizar, his expression serious. Without a word, he grasped Mizar's wrist, pulling him aside so only the Barian could hear. “Just go easy on him,” Kite whispered, his voice low but firm.

Mizar's brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Kite's gaze hardened. “You've never been one to understand human emotions, Mizar. Yuma doesn't need lectures about human fragility. He needs support.”

Mizar's confusion deepened, but he nodded, his pride momentarily set aside. He had seen the bond between Yuma and Ray, and though he didn't fully grasp the depth of human emotions, he understood loss. So for now he would follow Kite's lead.

The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of the home setting greeting them. Akari, who had been in the other room couldn’t help but paused as she heard the door open. She hadn't expected Yuma and Ray back so soon–after all, she was aware of their plans to meet up with Shark, Dumon, Kite, and Mizar. And as such, with her curiosity now piqued she exited the other room and made her way to the entrance to greet them. “Oh, Yuma, Ray, I wasn't expecting you both back–” she began, her voice light and teasing.

But her words faltered as her eyes fell upon the group standing at the door. Kite she recognized–despite his rare visits. She also knew Orbital 7, given he was coupled with Lillybot. Mizar, however, was unfamiliar to her. He had never come around before, and she only placed the name given his appearance matched the description she’d heard of him. But what caught her attention most was Yuma. His appearance was a stark contrast to the energetic brother she knew. His usual vibrant demeanor was replaced with a haunting stillness. His bruised wrists and ankles, pale complexion, and the vacant look in his eyes sending a chill down her spine.

Instinctively, she rushed to his side, her hands gently resting on his shoulders. “Yuma... what happened?” she asked, her voice trembling with concern.

She hadn't meant for her tone to be harsh, but the worry and protectiveness she felt for her younger brother was evident. She hadn't seen him like this since the time he had lost Astral five years ago–a time when she had feared for his well-being. Now, seeing him in such a broken state again made her heart ached.

Kite's gaze shifted to Mizar, his expression firm yet understanding. "Mizar, can you take Yuma upstairs? I need to explain everything to Akari... I'll join you both shortly."

This was likely for the best, Yuma didn’t need a replay of the nightmare he’d just lived through, and Akari needed to understand what had happened. As there would be others coming and going from the Tsukumo residence in the days ahead, all to ensure Yuma wasn’t left to face this alone.

Mizar didn’t argue. He gave a short nod, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes–an unspoken tension at the edge of unfamiliar territory. Still, he stepped beside Yuma, careful not to touch him without permission. His voice was low, even, and uncharacteristically soft, “This way, Yuma.”

Yuma didn’t respond, but he moved slow, almost mechanical like as though a part of him were still somewhere else. Mizar waited, silent and matching his pace as they ascended the stairs. While behind them, Akari turned to Kite with concern burning in her eyes, her arms folded protectively across her chest. Orbital 7 just behind Kite, holding his own solemn quietness. And only once they were out of earshot and settled did Kite begin filling her in.

Yuma led the way in silence, perhaps a subtle acknowledgment that Mizar, unfamiliar with the Tsukumo residence, wouldn't know where Yuma's room was. Which allowed the transition to Yuma’s room to be an easy one. As they entered, the bedroom stood as it had been that morning–books and the belongings of both Ray and Yuma scattered, a snapshot of normalcy frozen in time. The untouched scene only deepening Yuma's distress rather than offering comfort.

Mizar could only stand beside him, uncertain of how to proceed. Kite had entrusted him with Yuma's care for the time being, yet the intricacies of human emotions were beyond his grasp. His blue eyes observed Yuma's every move, trying to decipher the appropriate response. And when Yuma approached the bed and slumped beside it, drawing the sheets close, Mizar's confusion deepened. He had never encountered such behavior. Wasn't it customary to lie down fully when seeking rest? This half-gesture, this attempt to find solace in the lingering scent of Ray, was alien to him. And he stood motionless, unsure how to bridge the chasm between his understanding and Yuma's need for comfort.

Mizar shifted uncomfortably, eyes lingering on the way Yuma clutched the sheets with trembling hands. The room was thick with emotion–an atmosphere Mizar wasn’t used to navigating. His instincts were to fight, to move forward, to endure. This…quiet pain? He didn’t understand it, but Kite’s words echoed in his mind. ‘Go easy on him.’

And slowly he took a small step forward, his voice low and uncertain. “You’re not…weak, for feeling this,” he said, the words strange in his mouth. “Losing someone…it doesn’t get easier just because you’ve been through it before.”

Yuma didn’t answer, but his grip on the sheets tightened slightly. Mizar’s brows drew together, frustrated with how clumsy the attempt felt. “You cared for him. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Yuma still didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on the wrinkled sheets clutched tightly in his hands. But somewhere deep within, he registered the effort behind Mizar’s words and they were acknowledged, in a quiet, unspoken way. Given the fact he understood just how hard this must be for the Barian.

Mizar remained standing for a moment longer, uncertain, before finally moving fully to Yuma’s side lowering himself to the floor beside him. He didn’t say anything else, given he didn’t know exactly what else to say. But he stayed there, close and offering his presence in the only way he knew how.

The quiet moment stretching on until the soft creak of the bedroom door drew Mizar’s attention. Kite stepped in first, followed by Orbital 7 and Akari close behind. Kite almost looked surprised to find Mizar sitting beside Yuma on the floor–but relief flickered in his expression as well. As the Barian was indeed ‘going easy’ on Yuma. Honouring what Kite had asked of him, in his own way. And for a moment a small thought trickled through Kite’s mind. ‘Maybe…he’s not as unreachable as I thought.’

That unspoken realization lingered in Kite’s chest–an ember of hope he hadn’t expected to find here. “I’m going to clean Yuma up and see to his wounds. I’ll take it from here,” Kite said, keeping his voice even, almost offering Mizar a moment of reprieve.

Mizar gave a silent nod and stood, watching as Kite approached Yuma, kneeling as he gently to slip an arm under Yuma’s and help him up. The Baria Crystal necklace glinted faintly as Yuma moved, still clutching the sheet to his chest like it was the last tether to Ray. “Alright, Yuma…let’s get you fixed up,” Kite murmured, his tone soft, guiding him toward the bathroom with Orbital 7 right behind.

Akari handed off a clean set of clothes to Kite as they passed. Her expression hadn’t eased since they’d arrived, but she didn’t say anything–not yet. Though once they were gone, the silence returned. Akari moving towards the bed with practiced care, pulling off the remaining sheets to change them. Mizar stepping aside wordlessly, still uncertain of what comfort looked like in these moments–but recognizing enough to know when to give space.

He remained silent, watching as Akari stepped out, only to return a moment later with fresh sheets in hand. She moved efficiently, her motions automatic, likely a reflection of years spent looking after her younger brother through messes, scrapes, and now heartbreak. And Mizar only watched quietly, still unsure where the boundary was between presence and intrusion.

When she finished tucking the last corner of the blanket into place, she straightened and finally turned her gaze toward him. Her expression was gentler now, but not without weight. “Let me know if you or Kite need anything,” she said, her voice steady, though her concern for Yuma lingered in her eyes. “I’m going to start some food–try to make sure he eats something.”

Mizar tilted his head slightly at that and puzzled. Yuma was always hungry–constantly snacking, constantly complaining about being hungry. The thought of needing to remind him to eat seemed unnecessary–until it occurred to Mizar that perhaps grief disrupted even the most basic instincts in humans. Another strange quirk of their emotional makeup.

Mizar gave a slight incline of his head, his expression unreadable. “Very well.”

Proceeding to say nothing more as she walked off to presumably begin making a meal. Mizar remaining fixed where he was, still processing Akari’s words when the soft creak of the hallway floorboards drew his attention. Kite had returned, his steps slower than usual, guiding Yuma gently back into the room. The younger duelist looked marginally more stable–his wounds cleaned and wrapped, now dressed in the fresh clothes Akari had handed off earlier–but the hollowed look in his eyes remained.

Kite’s arm stayed firmly around Yuma’s shoulders, not just for balance, but for support. As much emotional as physical. He helped to ease Yuma down onto the newly made bed, careful not to disturb the sheet clutched tightly in Yuma’s arms–the one Yuma refused to part with because they still held the faint scent of Ray that clung to the fabric. As Kite understood the sentiments.

His gaze briefly moved to Mizar, who hadn’t moved much from his earlier position. The Barian’s expression remained stoic, arms loosely folded, but there was a stillness to him that Kite hadn’t seen before–like he was weighing something, unsure of what to do next. That was…new.

Kite swallowed, unsure why that subtle shift struck him so hard. But it did. Maybe it was the fact that Mizar had tried. That he'd stayed. That he had been gentle, in his own stiff, uncertain way. And for someone like Mizar–who barely understood human grief, who saw the world in victories and losses–it meant something. And it sparked something small but persistent in Kite’s chest.

Maybe…maybe this wasn’t as impossible as he thought. Still, his voice remained composed when he spoke. “Thanks, Mizar. For staying with him.”

Mizar blinked. “You told me to.”

There was no sarcasm, no mockery just a blunt, honest observation. Though his brow furrowed slightly as if trying to gauge why Kite’s expression had shifted and translate what the meaning behind his words even were. “I did what you asked,” Mizar replied, voice as flat as ever. Then, after a pause, his expression scrunched the tiniest bit in confusion. “Was there…more to it—some human nuance I’m missing?”

Kite blinked for a few moments, completely caught off guard. And he didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. The question was so plainly Mizar, but it still cracked something small and warm open inside him. “No,” Kite said softly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re fine.”

Mizar looked unconvinced but didn’t press. Kite turned his focus back to Yuma, but his mind lingered on the fact that Mizar had tried, even if he didn’t understand. For someone who’d claimed to leave his humanity behind long ago, that small gesture said more than Mizar likely realized. And though Kite couldn’t say what it meant just yet it felt like the start of something unexpected.

From there the hours passed quietly in the Tsukumo household. Mizar and Kite staying close to Yuma, their presence a steady and silent support. Though conversation was sparse, broken only by the occasional soft word or the clink of dishes as Akari set a small meal before them. Kite proceeding to watch carefully as Yuma hesitated over the food–his appetite greatly diminished by the grief clawing at him, but with gentle encouragement and a few light-hearted jokes, Kite had managed to coax a few bites from him. Mizar all the while silently observing from the side, still unsure of the nuances of human comfort but steadfast in his resolve to be there, quietly sharing the burden.

Later, when exhaustion from the day and the weight of grief finally overtook Yuma, Kite and Mizar carefully helped him settle into his space in the attic. Yuma sinking into the hammock, still clutching the sheets that carried Ray’s lingering scent–the only fragile thread of comfort he had left to hold onto. Both Mizar and Kite stayed quietly by his side for a while longer, watching over him. The quiet settling between them, heavy but softened by the stillness of the night. Kite at some point couldn’t help but glance sideways at Mizar, catching a brief flicker of something almost like understanding in his sharp blue eyes. It was small–too small to name, but it planted a seed of hope deep within Kite’s chest. They remained a little longer until they were certain Yuma had finally fallen asleep before quietly making their way back down to the bedroom below, leaving Yuma to rest in the fragile peace of the night.

Mizar, ever stoic, paused as the pair reached the singular bed below, as if contemplating how to proceed. The reaction caused Kite to smirk a little in response. “It’s not like we have much of a choice tonight. Think you can handle it?” Kite challenged, letting their rivalry flare a little.

Mizar narrowed his eyes, a trace of a competitive grin appearing. “I have been known to tolerate inconveniences.”

A laugh couldn’t help but cross Kite’s lips as he softly nudged Mizar to the Barian’s surprise. “Just don’t hog the blankets.”

Mizar’s expression remained mostly unreadable, but the faintest twitch of a corner of his mouth betrayed his confusion. “Is this a challenge?” he asked quietly, tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

Kite just chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. Or just a friendly warning.”

Mizar considered this, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as if trying to decipher a strange human custom. Then, with a subtle nod, he proceeded pragmatically–shedding his outer clothes without hesitation. His jacket and pants were folded with rigid precision and placed neatly on a nearby chair. And then without much thought, he pulled off his undershirt as well, revealing a lean, toned torso. His gaze slowly shifting when he noticed Kite’s eyes quickly avert, a faint flush dusting his cheeks–causing a flicker of confusion to surface on Mizar’s face as he tried to interpret the reaction.

Kite cleared his throat, voice catching slightly. “Uh…Mizar. Most people keep their undershirts on when they sleep.”

Mizar blinked at the unfamiliar concept. “Why would I keep on something unnecessary?”

Kite shrugged, trying not to let the flutter in his chest show. “Habit, I guess. A comfortable modesty?”

That earned the barest tilt of Mizar’s head. Then, a faint spark of amusement lit his eyes as he folded his arms across his bare chest. “I thought you said you could handle it.”

Kite paused, eye twitching at the echo of his earlier teasing. He glanced at Mizar, who stood beside the bed with a smug expression, as if he'd won a duel without playing a single card. "...Some of us still value sleep without distractions," Kite muttered, taking a moment to strip down to his undershirt and undergarments before pulling back the covers and sliding into bed. He turned onto his side, facing away from Mizar, his cheeks faintly warm despite his attempt to appear unaffected.

Mizar's brow lifted slightly, but he said nothing more. Instead he moved to the other side of the bed with deliberate grace, settling beneath the covers as if this were any other night. Yet, his gaze lingered just a moment longer on Kite's back, puzzled by the subtle undercurrent he couldn't quite define. With a quiet exhale, he shifted onto his back to gaze up at the ceiling. He did not require as much rest as humans, nor did he particularly enjoy confined domestic spaces, but he understood enough to remain where he was. Yuma had needed them and Kite had asked.

That part still puzzled him. The human emotion of grief was something he could observe, could name, but not fully grasp. The way Yuma had clung to the fabric that still smelled of Ray... It had stirred something uncomfortable and distant in him, like a memory too faded to be recalled clearly.

Mizar closed his eyes briefly. As his mind filtered through the recent events, he recalled how unusual Kite had been acting as well. He had noticed the way Kite looked at him earlier–when he had removed his shirt, when he had echoed back his own words. There had been something there. Not mockery. Not rivalry. Something...quieter. Warmer.

Confusing.

Mizar shifted back onto his side, his gaze drifting towards Kite. He could only see the faint outline of the other man's back beneath the blanket. They had always fought as if trying to outdo one another, prove something. But since the battle against Mizar's Shadow and tonight, it had felt less like battle and more like an alignment. A shift. A balancing of things unspoken.

And this truth caused Mizar to frown with faint uncertainty. Was this what it meant to understand humans? To sit in silence and not feel the need to fill it? To notice when someone averted their eyes, or when they didn't?

A moment passed. Then another. “...Strange creatures,” he murmured to himself, barely above a whisper.

But even as he turned onto his back, he didn't close his eyes. Not yet. He was still trying to understand, and for once, he didn't mind the effort.

Kite continued to lie on his side, the silence stretching, broken only by the soft rustle of blankets as Mizar repositioned beside him. He could feel the slight shift of the mattress with every movement the Barian made–a presence too close to ignore. And despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs, sleep didn't come easily, causing him to exhale slowly, trying to will his mind to quiet, but it wouldn't listen.

Mizar.

Unbothered. Direct. Frustrating. Maddening. And yet... He had stayed with Yuma. He had tried. And then there was this–Mizar, sleeping beside him, bare-chested and utterly unbothered, like sharing a bed with a rival wasn't anything worth noting. Kite scoffed softly under his breath. It figured. Mizar never second-guessed anything...but Kite did–and that was the problem.

Because tonight–just for a moment, Kite had let himself imagine something beyond rivalry. Beyond battles. Something...impossibly human between them. But then the other thoughts took hold: 'Don't be stupid. Mizar didn't see things the way he did. Couldn't. Wouldn't.'

This wasn't like with Ray and Yuma–who, while apart for now, would likely get the payoff of their moment coming together. There was too much distance between Kite and Mizar, and that fact made him wish these feelings had never surfaced at all. Yet, as sleep finally began to pull at the edges of Kite's thoughts, he couldn't help hoping that...maybe. Just maybe, Mizar could learn to love—and in turn, love Kite.

Chapter Text

The soft light of the early morning bled into the room, filtering through the window–casting narrow bands of pale gold across the bed. The air was still quiet in a way that felt different from the silence of grief. This was the hush that came after a long unbroken exhaustion. The kind that only sleep could untangle.

Kite stirred first. Blinking slowly, eyes adjusting to the pale light, his mind sluggish as the remnants of the previous day’s weight pulled at him. His body was stiff, spine half-locked from staying so still for too long in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment, he didn’t even remember why everything felt so heavy. Then the memory hit him like the tide: Yuma’s hollow expression and the way he’d been clutching so tightly to the bedsheet that still had the faint scents of Ray like a lifeline. The slow unraveling of someone trying not to fall apart.

Kite sighed softly and shifted–only to freeze when the warmth at his side shifted too.

Mizar.

He’d forgotten. Or maybe he hadn’t, but last night hadn’t felt real until now. Kite couldn’t help but turn his head, catching Mizar lying on his side, now facing him. Still asleep. Kite instantly froze again. The Barian looked...peaceful. Uncharacteristically so. His sharp features softened by sleep, his breath slow and even. His hair had fallen slightly over his face, and–because of course he’d slept shirtless, the blanket remained barely covering his torso. While, one of his arms was tucked under the pillow–long limbs relaxed in a way Kite wasn’t used to seeing.

Kite swallowed hard. He told himself it wasn’t staring. Just–assessing, like Mizar would…logical and controlled. Totally not inappropriate. Except it was…

And then–Mizar’s eyes opened. Sharp, blue, alert in an instant as the pair locked eyes. Kite felt his breath catch, caught red-handed and too stunned to move. Mizar blinked once, as if to confirm what he was seeing. “You’re awake.”

Kite scrambled for dignity. “So are you.”

“You were watching me.”

Kite felt an unusual rush of warmth in his cheeks. “I wasn’t watching. I just–turned.”

Mizar’s brow rose slightly, unimpressed. “You turned. And stared.”

“I didn’t stare,” Kite snapped, sitting up like the bed was on fire. “It was a glance. A perfectly normal glance.”

Mizar didn’t move, still remaining in place as he merely observed. “Your face is red.”

Kite cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. “You are impossible.”

Mizar tilted his head slightly. “Dumon’s face looked like that when Shark kissed his cheek. He stopped speaking for ten minutes afterward.”

Kite visibly froze. “That is not!–You don’t–! That’s different.”

“Isn’t it?” Mizar asked, still flat-toned but there was a glint of curiosity behind it. “Humans react to embarrassment with heat in the face, loss of speech, and increased heart rate. It seems...inconvenient.”

Kite groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Please stop talking.”

A pause.

Then, slowly, Mizar smirked. Not smug, not mocking–just a flicker of realization. Like he didn’t quite understand all the implications, but he knew enough to recognize a pattern. And maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to suspect why Kite couldn’t meet his gaze. “Good morning to you, too,” he said, voice low and dry.

Kite muttered something unintelligible and dragged an arm over his face like he could shield himself from the entire conversation–and from Mizar’s infuriating perception. “Nope. I’m not doing this.”

Mizar didn’t press. He only watched a moment longer, quiet, calculating. Maybe he didn’t understand it yet. Maybe to him, this was just another kind of duel–a new arena where the rules were unfamiliar but still winnable in their rivalry. And somehow, this time…he’d played the winning card without even knowing what it meant.

Kite let out a low breath, as if hoping it would exhale the entire situation from existence. “I should check on Yuma,” he muttered, sitting up stiffly, trying to sound purposeful.

Mizar watched with quiet curiosity, head tilted slightly as Kite sat up–only to freeze a second later. He blinked, confused in response but nothing had happened yet and Kite wasn’t moving.

Kite, meanwhile, had just registered a new and deeply unfortunate detail: one side of the bed was pressed flush against the wall. The other side the only exit, was currently occupied by a very awake and very shirtless Mizar.

Kite could only stare and Mizar in turn stared back. A moment more passing. “…You’re blocking the only way out,” Kite finally said, flat.

Mizar blinked again, as if failing to see the problem. “Is that not what legs are for? You can simply climb over me.”

Kite gave him a long, deeply exasperated look, as if sheer willpower might cause Mizar to disappear. “Not helping.”

Mizar’s expression didn’t shift. “Do you require assistance?”

Kite audibly choked. “Absolutely not.”

The silence that followed made the air feel heavier. There was no graceful way around this–not without making things even weirder. And the longer Kite sat there, paralyzed by options, the more that faint infuriating curve to Mizar’s mouth looked less like neutral observation and more like quiet amusement.

Cursing under his breath, Kite braced one hand on the bed and leaned forward with all the caution of someone defusing a bomb. He inched towards the edge, refusing to meet Mizar’s gaze as he awkwardly maneuvered over him. The moment his feet hit the floor, Kite was already heading to the ladder to the attic. “I’m checking on Yuma now,” he muttered, voice tight.

Behind him, Mizar watched him go, still half-covered by the sheets. Blinking once before tilting his head. “Humans are so strange,” he murmured.

Once in the attic, Kite finally felt himself breathe, just a moment of relief from the frustrations of Mizar. But it didn’t last as his blue-grey eyes landed on the empty hammock–and for a split second, panic surged. Was this going to be another repeat of yesterday’s nightmare? His thoughts had begun to spiral but then he spotted it–a lump curled beneath the blanket on the floor, just beside the low brown makeshift table near the window. Yuma. Kite let out a quiet breath and approached, crouching beside him. He pressed a hand lightly to Yuma’s shoulder, voice lowered but steady. “Hey. Yuma. Let’s get your bandages changed before Shark shows up.”

Kite choosing to leave out the unspoken portion of thoughts about him not wanting Shark to accuse him of not taking proper care of Yuma. And assuming he’d been focused on bickering the entire time with Mizar. Because Kite could already picture the look–the crossed arms, the raised eyebrow, and the way Dumon would politely not say anything while silently agreeing with every judgmental glare Shark threw his way.

Nope. Kite wasn’t giving them that ammo today. And to be fair, he and Mizar had actually functioned well enough as a team watching over Yuma–aside from the awkward disaster that had been this morning… and maybe whatever that was last night before bed. But Kite shoved the thoughts aside before they could finish forming. Now wasn’t the time and he shifted his focus fully to Yuma, who hadn’t stirred once. Not even a flinch. Kite settling beside him to reach out gently to pull back the blankets–only for Yuma’s trembling hand to catch his wrist. Just for a second. But it was enough. Enough to feel how cold his fingers were. Enough to see the dried tears at the corners of his eyes. And enough for a sick, twisting feeling to curl in Kite’s gut. Had he even slept? Or worse, had he been awake the whole time? Listening. Hearing everything from the floor below.

Kite’s jaw tensed. For the past few days, Yuma had been sleeping in his bedroom with Ray. Waking up alone in the attic instead–mixed with hearing voices, even if just bickering–must’ve felt like salt in an open wound. Reminding Yuma he was alone. Kite exhaled, his voice steady but softer than usual. “Yuma… you can’t beat yourself up over this.”

He glanced down, watching the way Yuma’s fingers still clutched at the blanket, like letting go meant something might slip away for good. “I know it hurts now. It’s going to for a while. But this–what happened, it’s not forever. Ray just needs time to recover. You will see him again.”

Kite’s hand settled briefly on Yuma’s shoulder again not firm, just enough to anchor. “You just have to hang in there. One day at a time and when the dust settles, things will go back to the way they were.”

“Now come on,” Kite said quietly, shifting to help Yuma sit up. “You have to do your part to recover too.”

Yuma didn’t resist. He moved when guided, limbs slow and heavy like each one had to be told to function. But he didn’t speak, not even a murmur as Kite gently eased him upright and began leading him toward the attic ladder. The descent was quiet, save for the creak of wood and the soft drag of the blanket still wrapped loosely around Yuma’s shoulders. When they reached the main floor, Kite didn’t spare a glance toward the bed or Mizar, who still lingered within. His focus remaining solely on Yuma.

“Orbital 7,” Kite called, voice sharp but composed.

The robot jolted upright from his tucked sleeping position in the corner, blinking to full alertness. “Ri-Right away, Ma-Master Kite!” he stammered, springing into motion to follow them.

Kite guided Yuma steadily toward the bathroom, his hand still resting lightly at Yuma’s back. Not forcing–just there. A quiet anchor in the still-fraying storm.

Mizar slowly rose as the pair passed, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hall. He made no comment nor did he offer a glance toward them as they left. He merely proceeded to rise from the bed with a slow, measured breath and began dressing with his usual crisp precision. Each piece of clothes falling smoothly into place like ritual.

By the time the clatter of Orbital 7’s anxious scurrying had faded into the bathroom, Mizar was already dressed, standing silently at the window. Outside, the early morning light caught on the frame of a familiar motorcycle pulling up near the curb–Nasch at the front, Dumon riding behind, both weighed down with small travel packs slung over their shoulders.

Unlike Dumon and Shark, who’d at least had the luxury of preparation, Kite and Mizar had arrived straight from the Duel with no supplies, no spare clothes, and no time to plan. And while that clearly grated on Kite, who masked his displeasure behind terse silence and a clenched jaw, Mizar hadn’t seemed fazed in the slightest.

No, Mizar had adapted with effortless precision, unbothered by inconvenience. He moved through the situation with sharp-edged confidence, treating every lack of structure as something to be overridden rather than endured. Improvisation, it seemed, came naturally to him. He didn’t dwell on problems. He handled what was in front of him.

But Mizar wasn’t blind. He’d noticed the way Kite cataloged every detail of Yuma’s condition with narrowed eyes, as though silently tallying every item they lacked. Not out of concern for his own comfort but out of frustration at the absence of control. And Mizar was beginning to understand: that to Kite, preparation wasn’t just logistics. It was protection. A way to keep others safe and he had filed that away as just another puzzle piece in his slow, careful study of human behavior.

Now with arms folded at the window, Mizar watched as Dumon and Nasch dismounted Nasch’s motorcycle and made their way to stone steps, each of them carrying their bags slung over their shoulders. Their strides steady, focused, shoes scraping faintly on the stone steps as they ascended toward the Tsukumo house and by the time the pair had reached the front door, Mizar had already moved from the window. He descended the stairs with silent purpose, pulling the front door open before Dumon could lift his hand to knock. “Mizar,” Dumon said, a little startled, though not surprised.

“Dumon. Nasch,” Mizar returned, stepping aside to allow them in. His tone was flat, but not cold.

Dumon nodded in greeting, but didn’t wait long before asking, “How is he?”

“Kite is tending to him in the bathroom,” Mizar answered plainly. “...Humans are so fragile. He hasn’t spoken a word, even though he understands Ray is not dead.”

There was a pause–short, but full. A flicker of sadness passing through Dumon’s eyes, and something troubled settled in Shark’s expression. “Mizar,” Dumon said gently. “Emotional distress doesn’t require actual loss. It’s the absence that hurts, the quiet where someone used to be. Even when you know it’s temporary, the ache is real.”

Mizar tilted his head slightly, his gaze curious but unreadable. “So it is not logic, but presence, that governs the pain?”

“It’s both,” Dumon said quietly. “And neither. That’s what makes it human.”

Mizar didn’t argue, but he also didn’t fully understand. And yet, something in his posture shifted, subtle, thoughtful as he held the door open to let them pass before quietly closing it behind them. As if he was trying to learn and understand through those words.

Dumon offered a nod of thanks, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “Let’s head up,” he said quietly.

Without needing to be told, Mizar turned and started toward the stairs, Dumon and Nasch falling into step behind him. The silence between them wasn’t tense but measured and reflective. Even Nasch, usually more abrupt in his movements, seemed quieter as they ascended.

The upstairs bedroom door stood open when they reached it. Orbital 7 had scurried off somewhere after completing his latest round of panicked assistance. Kite now dressed as well sat beside Yuma on the bed, gently helping him with the newly re-wrapped bandages.

Yuma all the while was still clinging tightly to the blanket that held the faintest trace of Ray’s scent and the minute Kite finished working–his fingers were already curling once more into the fabric as he drew it firmly around himself. Holding tightly to his much needed tether to hold him steady. Yet, he looked up slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps–eyes swollen and rimmed red, tracking their movement for only a moment before his gaze fell again.

Kite, seated at his side, glanced over his shoulder at the arrival. “...Looks like they’re here,” he murmured, quiet and unreadable, but something in his posture eased, knowing reinforcements had arrived.

Dumon entered first, quiet and steady, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He stepped toward the bed and gently set it down at the foot, taking in the scene without a word of judgment. Just concern and understanding. “We’ll take it from here, Kite,” Dumon said softly. “You and Mizar have earned your rest for the day.”

Kite gave a nod of quiet appreciation. “We made sure to grab the supplies and the suggestions you listed in your message.”

Kite didn’t respond immediately, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed something akin to gratitude. Of course he hadn’t complained out loud, he didn’t have to. He’d taken the time, even while tending to Yuma, to notice every gap, every missing item that might ease his friend’s recovery, and sent Dumon and Nasch a list with the precision to ensure Yuma’s recovery went smoothly.

Kite lingered a moment longer, studying Yuma’s slouched form. His voice, when it came, was gentler than before, low and firm in its sincerity. “Alright, Yuma… I’m heading out for now,” he said, rising to his feet. “But I’ll see you soon.”

Yuma didn’t answer, but his hand gave a faint, almost imperceptible shift–like maybe he’d heard him. Kite hesitated just a moment longer before heading into the hallway. “Orbital 7! We’re leaving!” He called, the sharpness in his tone returning–part habit, part shield.

“R-Right away, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 answered, scrambling up from where he'd been quietly tidying a pile of supplies, nearly tripping over himself in his eagerness to follow.

Mizar, who had been waiting near the doorway, took a slow step forward. His expression was unreadable at first, but his tone held a deliberate calm–like he was testing how to shape it. “Rest well,” he said to Yuma, before pausing. “That is what you say, isn’t it? When you want someone to…feel better.”

Dumon glanced sideways at him, lips quirking faintly, but said nothing. Once more Yuma didn’t respond, just curled a little deeper into the blanket but Mizar stood a moment longer, like he wanted to be sure the message had landed. Like he was trying. And then, with a quiet nod, Mizar turned and headed out the door much like Kite had before him. For a few moments, the sound of shuffling and movement echoed faintly from downstairs but then silence settled over the room. Dumon and Nasch exchanged a brief glance. Concern passing between them wordlessly as they looked toward the bed where Yuma sat, still cocooned in the blanket that held the faint, familiar scent of Ray. His eyes were open, but distant. Not focused on them. Not focused on anything.

Nasch lingered near the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression was hard to read–composed, guarded but there was no mistaking the tension in his stance. Eventually, with a quiet breath, he stepped away from the door and crossed the room, moving to the desk to start unpacking the supplies they’d brought.

Dumon approached carefully, his movements slow and deliberate as he knelt beside the bed. “Yuma,” he said, voice low and even. “You’ll be glad to know Ray’s recovery is going well.”

Those words stirred something inside Yuma. His gaze instantly shifting towards Dumon, a flicker of focus returning. Even fragile as it was, like a candle struggling against the wind. His fingers tightening briefly on the blanket, the one that still carried Ray’s scent–that fragile lifeline to a presence that felt both near and impossibly far away. Dumon continued, tone still gentle. “The Barian Crystal stabilized him not long after the Duel. Nasch and I confirmed the healing cycle is active.”

Yuma’s fingers curled tighter around the blanket. “I want to…” His voice failed, and he swallowed hard. “I want to see him. I need to see him!”

Dumon offered a sympathetic, yet sad smile. “You will, but not today. Not until you’ve recovered yourself. Ray wouldn’t want you pushing yourself like this.”

Yuma stared down, his form shaking with grief. “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “She used me…to hurt Ray…” He couldn’t finish as his throat clenched shut.

Shark’s expression darkened. “Stop it, Yuma! It’s not your fault!” He said sharply. “While the Shadows of the Barian Emperors have been ruthless, none of us saw this coming. But now we’re prepared.”

Though Yuma appreciated Shark’s words, it did little to comfort his inner turmoil and fear–the fear that something might happen again with Ray so far away in the Barian World. If another Shadow targeted him, there would be no way for Yuma to know or reach him. Dumon seemed to sense his distress and reassured him. “It’s alright. With three of us now awakened as Barian Emperors again we are taking shifts watching over you as well as Ray,” he explained softly. “Rio is with him now, and we’ll take you there in time. But you’re no condition to Duel right now. I know it’s difficult, Yuma, but until you’re better, we can’t risk putting you in a dangerous situation.”

Sadness sank once more into Yuma’s eyes. “I miss him…” Yuma struggled to speak as tears welled up. “Ray has been my anchor. Ever since Astral…since he left to return to Astral World–Ray was the one constant in my life. Now without him, without Astral, it’s like I’m… drifting. Like I’m falling and there’s nothing to hold onto. I keep expecting to see him beside me…and he’s not there…”

A long silence stretched between them, heavy and tender. Yet, Dumon’s voice was only softer when he spoke again. “That pain is love. The kind that doesn’t disappear just because the person you care for is safe. It’s proof you’re still connected–stronger than any distance or silence.”

Yuma’s eyes shimmered with tears, his voice carrying fragile hope. “Then I’ll hold on to that. I have to. For Ray…and for us.”

Yuma’s gaze fell to the blanket he still clutched tightly, the faint scent of Ray lingering like a promise. Even with the weight of loss heavy on his heart, something beneath it was growing–a quiet strength born from love and the hope of reunion. He didn’t know how long the road would be or what challenges awaited. But for now, he would hold onto that strength. Because even in absence their connection endured. And that was enough to keep him moving forward.

Chapter Text

The day had passed without incident, a comparative breath of fresh air, given the chaos of the day before. No panicked phone calls. No new emergence from one of the three remaining Shadows. No new pain, physical or emotional and thankfully no additional losses. Just, silence–even if fragile. The kind of silence that hovered like early morning fog, thin enough to see through, to walk through, but still damp and heavy in the bones. And yet, it was something. It was enough.

Yuma, while still pale and frayed at the edges, had shown flickers of life again. Signs that somewhere beneath the grief and shock, the friend they knew was still there–hurting, yes, but fighting. He’d even managed to eat half a sandwich at lunch, something none of them had expected. And later, as Dumon stood up to prepare dinner, Yuma had leaned back with a ghost of his old spark returning. “See? I told you,” he rasped, voice still gravelly but with a flicker of humor. “Dumon’s the one doing all the cooking.”

Shark nearly choked on his drink, throwing a scandalized look across the table. “That’s not true!”

Yuma’s weak grin only widened just a fraction in response. “Totally is.”

It had been a stupid, harmless jab but it landed. And more importantly, it earned laughter. Real laughter. Shark’s offended sputtering and a soft resigned smile from Dumon who had to stutter his own amused laugh. And for one fleeting moment, the weight in the room lessened. Of course, it didn’t erase what had happened, or what might still to come. But it gave them a breath of fresh air. A little warmth. The kind of warmth that didn’t chase away the dark, but made it certainly easier to bear.

And so the day proceeded, the sun by this point had dipped below the skyline. Shadows now stretching longer across the city. While, the soft hum of traffic and distant lights buzzed faintly through the windows. Upstairs, the attic remained still. Yuma lay cocooned in the hammock, the same blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders–his tether, his armor. But his grip wasn’t as tight now. His breathing was slow, steady. Not the erratic, shallow kind that came with crying, or nightmares, or the effort to simply stay conscious. This was different. Lighter. Like his body had finally surrendered to the exhaustion. And it looked like he might finally sleep tonight.

Below, in Yuma’s bedroom, the light was dim as Nasch and Dumon finished settling in for the night. The bed had already been remade with fresh linens–courtesy of Akari. She’d been informed by Kite the day before that some of Yuma’s friends would be coming and going in the days ahead, and without hesitation, she’d made quiet preparations. It was clear she was worried about her brother and was grateful to those who had come to support him.

Unlike the night before with Kite and Mizar, marked by tension and unspoken feelings–Dumon and Nasch moved with quiet, familiar ease. No uncertain glances, no awkward missteps. Just the steady rhythm of two people long used to one another’s presence. They weren’t rivals. They were partners. And as they slipped beneath the sheets, Dumon naturally curled into Nasch’s side, his head resting against Nasch’s chest, while one arm draped loosely around his waist. Nasch held him in turn, a hand resting lightly against Dumon’s back, his fingers tracing slow, absent minded circles over the thin fabric of his shirt.

The silence settling between them not something strained but warm, steady. The kind of stillness born not from absence, but from deep unshakable trust. Most nights, they didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Comfort was found in proximity, in quiet gestures and shared warmth. The soft weight of a hand, the rhythm of breath, the closeness itself and that said more than words could. But tonight, that stillness was broken. Not by tension, but by concern. A worry neither of them could quite set down. And it was Dumon who spoke first, his voice low and careful not to disturb the floor above. “He looked better today,” he said softly. “But I know it’s only a surface peace.”

Dumon’s voice barely disturbed the quiet, but it was enough to stir something in Nasch, whose fingers slowed their motion against his back. “Yeah,” Nasch murmured after a moment. “He smiled and laughed…even if for a brief moment.”

There was a pause before he exhaled slowly, the tension lingering in his chest. “...But he’s far from okay.”

Dumon tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the soft, steady thrum of Nasch’s heartbeat. “He’s been through so much. Astral’s been gone for five years now...and Ray’s been his anchor ever since. That’s what he told us… And even if Ray isn’t truly lost, that support, that presence is gone for now. And Yuma feels it. That’s why he’s bracing to lose everything else as well.”

Nasch’s grip around Dumon unconsciously tightened for a moment. “...We have to be better next time.”

Dumon turned his face slightly, his voice gentle. “You’re being hard on yourself. Just like he is.”

“You saw what happened,” Nasch said, a quiet edge to his tone. “We didn’t anticipate anyone could be a target. I should’ve–”

“You told Yuma it wasn’t his fault,” Dumon interrupted softly. “And you were right. None of us could’ve predicted the Shadows would act outside the patterns. But now, we’re aware.”

Nasch scoffed, a short breath of frustration escaping him. Dumon only offered a faint smile at the sound–familiar and unbothered. He knew it well: guilt wearing the mask of resolve. “Only three Shadows remain now,” Dumon continued, his voice even. “Yours, Alito’s, and Girag’s. If they’re anything like Marin’s, we need to be ready for the worst.”

“...It won’t be easy,” Nasch muttered, tension in his voice. “We don’t even know who the targets could be.” His frustration wasn’t directed at Dumon–just the helpless truth of it all. They couldn’t be everywhere at once.

Dumon’s gaze shifted slightly, but he didn’t flinch. “Then we watch each other. It’s all we can do.”

Nasch looked down at him, silent for a long breath. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It’s not,” Dumon replied simply. “But I’ll keep saying it until it is.”

That earned a soft snort from Nasch, barely audible. “You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re reckless,” Dumon replied with a faint smirk. “We balance each other.”

Nasch huffed under his breath, but his fingers resumed their slow tracing against Dumon’s back. Before he leaned in to steal a brief, quiet kiss. “Get some rest.”

“You too,” Dumon murmured, smiling as he tucked himself more comfortably against Nasch.

Their silence returned–peaceful this time, unspoken understanding settling over them like a shared blanket. And slowly, gently, they drifted off into sleep.

***

The morning came quietly. As a slow, creeping warmth that filtered through the windows, casting soft light along the floors. The early city hum had yet to fully awaken, and the air still clung to a faint coolness from the night before.

Upstairs, in the attic, Yuma had stirred a few times during the night. His body remaining curled beneath the blanket as the hammock swayed gently with each movement. Once or twice a mumble followed suit in his sleep–soft, broken calls for someone not there. Not frantic, but still aching and yearning. Yet even with those quiet murmurs, his breathing eventually steadied again. There were no full cries. No waking with a gasp or clutching at the covers in panic. Just restless turns and whispers fading into quiet. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t peace. But it was rest–thin, fragile, and hard-won.

Downstairs, in Yuma’s room, Dumon stirred first. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light that filtered through the window curtains. He didn’t move right away–just lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Nasch’s breathing beside him and feeling the familiar warmth of the arm draped across his waist. Comforting. Grounding. But eventually he shifted to try and begin to rise for the day. The movement proving enough to stir Nasch behind him. A low, sleepy hum slipping past Nasch’s lips as his arm tightened briefly and possessively around Dumon’s waist. “Morning already?” he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Dumon gave a quiet chuckle, smiling to himself. “Yes. We should check on Yuma.”

Nasch let out a reluctant groan, nuzzling Dumon slightly before pressing a brief, lazy kiss to his temple. “Five more minutes.”

He wasn’t avoiding the responsibility, far from it–but a little more rest sounded tempting, especially with the weight of the last Shadow’s Duel still hanging over them like a fog. “Three,” Dumon countered with a faint smile, nuzzling a little closer to enjoy the moment himself. “Then we help him change his bandages. Rio will be here soon.”

Nasch exhaled through his nose, eyes still shut. “At least let me have coffee first.”

“I think I can manage that,” Dumon said, pulling away from Nasch’s grasp– reluctantly, before sitting up and slipping from beneath the covers to begin dressing.

He didn’t wait for Nasch to follow, only paused long enough to peek into the attic. Yuma was still curled in his hammock–his breathing soft and even. Satisfied, Dumon slipped out of the room and made his way downstairs with quiet efficiency, careful not to disturb the fragile calm that lingered in the air as he moved to the desired location of the house. The kitchen was dim but not dark, painted with streaks of early morning light filtering through the windows. He moved with purpose, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. The clink of ceramic and metal echoed gently through the stillness, oddly grounding in its simplicity as he moved about the kitchen prepping for Nasch’s coffee.

Behind him, Nasch entered–dressed, but with sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t speak right away, just leaned against the counter and watched Dumon move. His presence filling the space like it always did: solid and steady–if a little rough around the edges. Dumon glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. “You’re up sooner than I thought.”

“You took the warmth with you,” Nasch muttered, rubbing his arms. “Not exactly a choice.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow…but for now, we’re beholden to putting Yuma’s needs above our own.”

He said it lightly and teasingly, but with a thread of sincerity beneath the words. Dumon knew full well Nasch wouldn’t go halfway for Yuma–he was committed, as always but a little humor didn’t hurt. Especially when the weight of the last Shadow Duel still loomed heavy in the air. They needed these small moments.

The kettle began to hiss shortly after, a soft, rising whistle that signaled the next step. Dumon reached for a mug and poured the hot water over the grounds already in the press, letting the steam rise between them. The rich scent of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, curling into the quiet like a balm. “Thanks,” Nasch murmured when Dumon passed him the mug.

“Of course,” Dumon said simply. “Drink that, then we’ll head up.”

Nasch nodded and took a careful sip of the coffee, wincing slightly at the heat. He looked at the cup, almost tempted to challenge it with another drink, but instead set it down, electing instead for patience. Giving his drink a few moments to sit before trying again. This time with more success as the warmth began to clear the last remnants of sleep from his mind as he straightened. “You think he managed to sleep?”

Dumon paused, thoughtfully. “Some. It was restless...but when I last checked, he was still sleeping.” His gaze drifted upwards towards the ceiling, as though he could see see into the attic beyond.

Nasch followed his gaze. “Then we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Dumon nodded. He moved efficiently, tidying the counter and rinsing Nasch’s cup, before he took Nasch’s hand and led him up the stairs. The pair soon finding themselves within the attic space. “Yuma?” he called softly, his voice low in case their friend was still asleep.

But the shift in the blanket bundle said otherwise. Yuma stirred, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked better than the day before–a bit of color had returned to his cheeks, and there was more clarity in his eyes. “We’re going to help with your bandages before Marin–” Dumon started, only to be interrupted by a soft knock at the front door.

Nasch raised an eyebrow, tone dry but with the faintest curve of a smile. “Right on time. That’s Rio for you.”

“I’ll stay with Yuma,” Dumon offered gently. “She’ll probably want a moment with you anyway.”

Nasch gave a quiet nod, his gaze flicking briefly to Yuma before returning to Dumon. For a moment, it looked like Dumon might lean in–but instead, he simply gave Nasch’s hand a light, grounding squeeze. No kiss. Not right now. Not with Yuma watching. Not with the absence of Ray still lingering in the room–and in their friend’s heart. Nasch returned the gesture with a soft squeeze of his own, brief but steady. Then he turned and descended the ladder without a word. Nothing more needed to be said. He crossed through Yuma’s room and headed down the stairs towards the front door, opening it just as Rio arrived. “Hello, brother,” she greeted, a small bag slung over one shoulder. “How’s Yuma doing?”

“Better than yesterday,” Shark replied. “Still pale, but he slept. Dumon’s with him now.”

“And you?” Rio asked, more softly this time–her concern for her brother as clear as ever.

Shark hesitated in the doorway, his expression unreadable for a beat before answering. “Tired, like the rest of us.”

Rio studied him for a moment longer, then stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Not tight, nor dramatic, just real. “You don’t have to carry all of it,” she murmured.

“I’m not,” Shark replied–low, honest, and just a little defensive–as he returned the embrace. “Not this time.”

That seemed to satisfy Rio as she slowly let go, taking a step back slowly as her expression softened. Even if her composure held steady. “Good. Or you’d be in trouble, Reginald.”

Shark rolled his eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Rio just laughed. “If only I could get Dumon to say it once–just to throw you off.”

“Don’t you dare. Yuma’s already a bad enough influence.”

“Is he?” She teased, clearly enjoying his slow unraveling.

Shark sighed like a man defeated, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. These moments, even at his expense–lightened the weight on his shoulders. But still, he shifted the conversation, just to salvage his dignity. “...And Ray?”

“Mizar’s with him. No changes, but he’s stable. It might still be a while before he wakes.”

“And no Shadow activity?”

“Kite’s been keeping an eye on things. Nothing so far.”

Shark gave a short nod and stepped aside to let her in. Rio entering with quiet purpose, slipping off her shoes before following him toward the stairs. Together, they ascended to Yuma’s room. Shark moved to pack away his and Dumon’s things once they arrived, while Rio set her own bag down beside the bed–composed, calm, and clearly ready to take over the watch. A few minutes later, Dumon reentered from the hall guiding Yuma in. The younger duelist was still wrapped in his blanket, but steadier on his feet than before. “Ah, Marin,” Dumon greeted, offering her a small smile. “How was Barian World?”

Rio returned it with one of her own, warm but reserved. “Everything’s fine,” she said, then turned her gaze toward Yuma. “Ray’s doing well, you don’t have to worry. And if any Shadows try anything…” She smirked faintly. “They’ll regret picking a fight with Mizar.”

Yuma’s expression softened, a flicker of relief breaking through as he managed a small but genuine smile. Rio turning her attention to Dumon and Shark next. “You two can head out and get some rest. I’ve got things covered from here.”

“Then we leave Yuma in your capable hands,” Dumon said with a nod.

“If anything happens–or you need anything, call us,” Shark added, his tone firm but not overbearing.

“Of course,” Rio replied, offering a reassuring look. “But I think we’ll be just fine.”

A few quiet farewells followed before Dumon and Shark made their way out, their footsteps fading down the stairs. In the stillness that followed, Yuma and Rio were left alone in the room. She turned back to him fully, her expression softening. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently.

Yuma’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Tired. Everything feels heavier now.”

Rio stepped closer, concern flickering in her eyes. “You look like you could use some rest.” She moved to the side of the bed and began smoothing the sheets. “Come sit with me for a while.”

He hesitated, then slowly let himself be guided over. Rio helped him settle on the edge of the bed beside her, her nurturing instinct taking hold as she carefully adjusted the blanket still draped around his shoulders. They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them soft and still. Then, Rio spoke again, voice low and steady. “If you want to talk...or if you just want someone here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Yuma glanced at her. There was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes–small, but real and the faintest curve of a smile. But Rio also saw the weight still clinging to him, the sadness he carried in every quiet breath. She hesitated, then gently reached out, her fingers brushing his arm and lingering just long enough to ask without words. Yuma didn’t pull away so she leaned in, wrapping her arms carefully around his shoulders–not too tight, not overwhelming, just warm and sure.

Yuma stiffened for a moment, startled by the touch. Then, slowly, he let go of whatever he’d been holding in, and leaned into her. Not with words, but with presence. A quiet surrender to comfort long overdue. Rio didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to. She just held him. She hadn’t doubted that her brother and the others had done everything to care for Yuma’s physical wounds. But part of her–the part that understood what it meant to be quietly hurting, knew something more had been missed. Something simple, but vital. And as Yuma leaned against her, shoulders slumping just slightly in quiet need, she knew she’d been right.

No, she couldn’t replace Ray and she wasn’t trying to. But she was his friend. And if offering him this warmth, however small helped ease even a little of the weight he carried, she would not hesitate.

Chapter Text

The week passed without incident–a rare, but not unwelcome shift in the wake of the recent emergence of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors. For the first time in days, it felt as though life was beginning to settle again. Not entirely back to normal, too much had changed for that but the rhythm was familiar, quiet and still. Yet beneath that stillness, the memory of the recent duels lingered. The battle against Marin’s Shadow, in particular, had left its mark. The outcome may have been a victory, but it hadn’t been without cost. And though no new threats had appeared, the looming presence of the remaining three Shadows lingered in the back of everyone’s mind. An ever-present question of who, when, and what devastation might follow.

Still, the fragile peace gave Yuma something he desperately needed: time. Time to recover. Time to breathe. And at last, when his strength had returned and his friends were confident in his progress, permission was granted. Yuma would be allowed to travel to Barian World and the one chosen to accompany him as both escort and standby guard, was Mizar.

By the time Yuma returned home from his classes that afternoon, Mizar was already waiting—arms crossed, silent but steady. He didn’t rush Yuma, allowing him enough time to pack a small overnight bag, grab a blanket, a pillow, and a few snacks before the younger male returned with quiet determination. Mizar simply gave a nod and lifted a hand, opening a portal with a low hum of Barian energy. In a blink, the familiar warmth of the Tsukumo residence faded and the vast, cold expanse of the Barian throne room took its place.

Yuma’s breath caught. Nothing had changed. The wide chamber still echoed with the weight of what had happened here. The Duel with Marin’s Shadow might have ended days ago, but the heaviness hadn’t lifted. The air still felt wrong–like it remembered the fear, the desperation and the near-loss. Yuma’s feet touched the floor, but his mind slipped.

He could see it as clearly as if it were happening again: Ray’s body slumped and bloodied on the floor. Rio kneeling at his side. His own voice, screaming Ray’s name–ripping through the silence. The moment everything shattered. And his grip tightened on the overnight bag, as if it might ground him.

Mizar didn’t speak, but his eyes glanced towards Yuma–sharp, observant, quietly understanding. He didn’t fully grasp the depths of human emotion, but even so, he didn’t rush him. Yuma took a slow breath. He wasn’t falling apart–not again. Not here. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He steadied himself with another breath. Then, finally, he stepped forward–just one step, deliberate and slow.

The last time he’d stood here, Ray had whispered goodbye and pressed the Baria Crystal into his hand. Yuma’s fingers instinctively reached up to touch the necklace now hanging around his neck for support. The crystal was warm against his palm. Solid and real, just like pain swelling within. And Yuma couldn’t help but whisper under his breath–so quietly that even Mizar couldn’t hear: “I’m still waiting.”

The words lingered in the silence, as if they were meant for someone no longer in the room. A tremble touched the corner of Yuma’s mouth. His throat tightened, breath catching, and before he could stop it, the sting of tears blurred his vision. Yet, he swallowed hard, forcing a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together. But the ache wouldn’t leave.

Beside him, Mizar shifted, uneasy. His gaze moving to Yuma, taking in the trembling shoulders, the tightened grip on the crystal. Human emotions were still a puzzle to him: messy and illogical. But this–this he recognized. The feeling of something lost. Slowly, awkwardly, Mizar lifted a hand. He hesitated, fingers curling slightly as if second-guessing himself. Then, after a breath, he reached out and rested his hand lightly on Yuma’s shoulder.

The touch was hesitant. Not forceful, but steady and Yuma stiffened, caught completely off guard–not just by the gesture, but by who it came from. Mizar had never been one for physical comfort, even during their last encounter in the Tsukumo home. He had stayed, yes. He had sat with Yuma when the grief was fresh and raw–but he hadn’t reached out. Not like this and maybe that’s why it mattered.

The warmth of Mizar’s hand bled through Yuma’s jacket. Firm, grounding. And beneath it, something more–an attempt. An offering. Mizar didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence with clumsy words. He just stood there, unmoving and present.

Yuma blinked against the tears still gathering at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t pull away. He simply let the quiet support settle into his bones and steady him. When the ache in his chest dulled just enough to breathe, Yuma turned to Mizar with a faint, grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’m okay now.”

Mizar gave a single nod, slowly withdrawing his hand. But something lingered in his expression–a flicker of thought behind those sharp blue eyes. Like he was weighing words he didn’t know how to speak, or an emotion he hadn’t yet named. And then–footsteps echoed across the chamber. Both turning in response as Dumon and Shark approached. “About time,” Shark called out, his voice light, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to cut the tension.

“Hello, Mizar. Yuma,” Dumon greeted, more gently, reading the emotional temperature of the room.

“Hey, guys!” Yuma called out, summoning what little energy he had to slip back into his usual cheerful tone. It wasn’t effortless–but it was familiar. A comfort, in its own way.

“Dumon. Nasch,” Mizar acknowledged with a small nod, his tone neutral but respectful as always.

“Everything’s been proceeding as expected,” Dumon said with practiced calm, though his eyes lingered briefly on Yuma. “You two will likely have a quiet night ahead.”

Nasch–Shark, glanced at Yuma and crossed his arms, his voice softer than usual. “Hey. You don’t have to hang around here. You’ve waited long enough. Go see him.” His brow furrowed slightly. “We’ll fill Mizar in.”

There was a brief pause before Shark spoke once more. “Just…don’t push yourself too hard,” he added, voice dipping into something more vulnerable. It wasn’t often Shark wore his concern so openly, but this situation was different.

Yuma’s smile faltered, just for a second, touched by the rare gentleness. “I won’t. Thanks,” he said quietly, giving a small wave as he turned away.

The three Barian Emperors remained where they were, their voices falling into low conversation, giving Yuma the space he needed. His steps were slow at first, measured. But as the base of the throne drew closer, and the glimmer of the orange crystal came into full view, his pace quickening, driven by longing more than resolve. Ray’s Barian Crystal floated silently, suspended in that familiar glow a bit above the ground–unchanged, untouched and Yuma stopped just short of it, reaching out a hand to rest gently against the crystal’s surface. His fingers trembled slightly as they made contact, the warmth faint beneath the humming pulse of Barian energy. “Hey, Ray…” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come visit,” Yuma said softly, his voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Tears slipping down his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “...You know how Shark is–trying to act all tough, pretending he’s not worried.” A faint, trembling smile touched his lips. “But I convinced him. So I’ll be here more often now. As much as I can.”

One hand remained pressed gently to the crystal’s surface, grounding him in the moment. As the other clutched the necklace around his neck, fingers tightening around the Baria Crystal Ray had given him. It was his strength in Ray’s absence–a symbol of the promise they’d made. A promise Yuma refused to let go of. “That way,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “When you wake up…we’ll be together. Finally.”

He drew in a shaky breath, eyes fixed on Ray’s still form suspended in the soft glow of the orange crystal. Ray looked peaceful–untouched by pain, his expression calm. Like he was still smiling, still holding onto the last quiet moment they’d shared. The ache in Yuma’s chest tightened. A slow, pulsing grief threaded with fragile hope. “...I miss you, Ray,” he murmured, more tears slipping down his cheeks. “Every day…”

“...I know you’re coming back… I know it. But…please wake up soon.”

Yuma’s hand lingered on the crystal for a moment longer, then he slowly slid down to rest against its base. The cool surface grounding him, but the warmth of Ray’s Baria Crystal against his chest was what kept him steady as he sat on the floor. Tucking his knees close as he leaned lightly against the crystal’s edge, all the while his fingers never leaving the necklace. “I’ll stay right here,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be alone.”

The silence of the throne room was heavy but not empty. It cradled him gently now, a strange sort of comfort in the quiet. The flickering glow of the crystal pulsing softly across his skin and casting long shadows as the hours dragged on. Eventually, Yuma’s eyes fluttered closed. The day’s weight–the grief, the exhaustion, the lingering hurt slowly dulled as he slipped into sleep. His breathing evening as his body, curled beside the crystal, finally stilled.

At some point, Mizar must’ve come by–quietly, without waking him and laid the blanket over Yuma’s sleeping form. Even the pillow he’d brought earlier had been adjusted beneath his head by the time the sharp buzz of the Duel Interface cut through the quiet. Yuma remained cocooned in unexpected comfort, before he stirred with a groggy blink, cheek still pressed to the pillow. His hand fumbled into his jacket pocket to retrieve his Duel Gazer, equipping it with sluggish fingers. The holographic interface lighting up in the dim chamber, casting pale blue light across his face.

Incoming Call: Alito.

He squinted at the screen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The name registered slowly–but once it did, it stuck. Alito? The two had barely spoken since Alito started dating Kotori. So why would he be calling? Yuma blinked again, frowning before tapping Accept–just as his gaze caught the log: Ten missed calls. Alito’s face filled the screen in an instant, voice slamming through like a battering ram. “Finally! I’ve been trying to get you for like an hour! What the hell–were you dead asleep?!”

Yuma groaned softly, rubbing his face. “Kinda, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t–what’s going on?”

Alito looked like he was pacing as he spoke quickly–as if he was half between deciding whether he should sit down or head out somewhere. “Is Kotori with you?”

Yuma blinked harder. “Kotori? No. Why would she be?” He asked, confusion laced in his voice now. “You know me and Kotori have barely talked since–well, never mind!”

He wasn’t about to crack the complicities of their prior relationship open right now. And definitely not in front of Alito.

Alito hesitated–and that was rare. “She was worried about you. After what happened with Ray. Said she might stop by your place. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but…she still cares. Despite how things ended between you two.”

His voice cracked, frustration slipping in around the edges. “She never came home. And now I can’t reach her. I’ve tried calling, but the signal won’t even go through. Like her Duel interface is completely off.”

That woke Yuma up. He sat up fully, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. “Wait. You’re serious? She’s gone?”

“I wouldn’t be calling you like this if she wasn’t,” Alito snapped–then paused, clearly catching himself. He exhaled, the fire in his voice softening. “Look. I know things are still…weird between us. I know that. But this isn’t about that right now. I just–” his voice dropped, raw and desperate. “I need to find her.”

Yuma’s chest tightened. Whatever tension had lingered between them, whatever guilt or awkwardness had built since the breakup between Yuma and Kotori, it all fell away in the face of Alito’s fear. “…Okay,” Yuma said quietly. “I’ll help. We’ll find her.”

“Keep me posted. I’m heading out now to start looking,” Alito said quickly, before the call cut out.

Yuma stared at the fading hologram for a second, then rubbed the last traces of sleep from his eyes. Slowly, he stood, his gaze drifting back to the orange crystal as his hand gently extended to rest against its surface. “Ray, I’ll be back soon,” he whispered. “You don’t need to worry.”

He lingered for a moment longer, eyes closed, centering himself. Then he turned, leaving the blanket and pillow behind as his fingers moved through the holographic interface to open a comm channel. His pace quickened as he approached where Mizar was keeping watch. In an instant, flickering projections blinked to life around him–Shark with Dumon, Rio, and Kite, appearing at staggered intervals depending on how quickly they answered the call. “Sorry to wake you all,” Yuma said, wasting no time. “But we’ve got trouble.”

That snapped whatever sleep remained from their eyes. “What kind of trouble?” Shark asked, eyes focused intently on the screen.

“It’s Kotori,” Yuma said tightly. “Alito called me–ten times in a panic. She hasn’t come home, and now her Duel Interface isn’t even registering. It’s like she vanished. Completely.”

Rio’s eyes widened. “What?!”

Yuma exhaled sharply. “Alito said she mentioned maybe stopping by my place…but me and Mizar have been in Barian World this whole time. There's no way to know if she actually made it there or if something happened before that.”

A heavy silence fell.

“...Could this be another of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors?” Dumon asked gravely. His voice was calm, but the implication was clear–and chilling. “It mirrors what happened to Yuma. Too closely.”

“We can’t rule it out,” Shark agreed, jaw clenched.

“We tracked the Shadows of Mizar, Dumon and Marin through dimensional energy spikes,” Kite interjected. “If something appeared or pulled Kotori into another realm to trap her, we should’ve picked it up.”

“You’re relying on inferior Earth-based technology,” Mizar cut in with a scoff. “Naturally, your systems failed to detect anything. If you had the benefit of Barian surveillance—”

“Mizar,” Dumon warned, tone even but firm–cutting off the rising tension before it could spiral.

Kite folded his arms, not backing down. “If he wants to compare technology specs, I’m game. Just don’t start crying when your Barian readings come up short.”

Mizar scoffed, crossing his arms in return. “Please, Barian systems process information on a level you couldn’t even understand. Your primitive data logs are barely adequate.”

“We don’t have time for a measuring contest,” Shark snapped, glaring at them both. “Focus. Our priority is finding Kotori–now.”

That was enough to silence the bickering rivals for now. The group quickly returning their focus to the subject at hand as Shark began discussing a strategy–his attention slowly circling back to Yuma and Mizar. “You two stay put in Barian World,” Shark said flatly. “If this is a setup, we can’t risk Ray being left vulnerable.”

“Shark–please,” Yuma stepped forward, voice shaking slightly with urgency. His red eyes locking onto Mizar in one key moment of acknowledgment, before looking back to Shark. “Mizar can protect Ray. I trust him. But Kotori’s missing because she came looking for me. Just like Ray got hurt trying to reach me too…”

His voice faltered, and his hands curled tightly into fists at his sides. The guilt was visible, heavy in his posture and tone. “I can’t let that happen again. I won’t stand by while someone else disappears–because of me.”

He drew in a breath, more steady now. “And Alito asked for my help. I’m not going to turn my back on my friend. Not now.”

Shark hesitated. The scowl on his face didn’t shift, but his silence said enough–he was weighing every angle. “I’ll go with him,” Rio interjected. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. He won’t be alone.”

Shark looked between the two of them, then finally gave a short nod. “Alright. Mizar, stay in Barian World and guard Ray. Yuma, you’re with Rio–stay together, no exceptions. I don’t want to hear about either of you running off on your own.”

“You have my word,” Yuma said, his voice stronger now–fueled by purpose. “You can count on us.”

The Duel Interface call ended abruptly, leaving Yuma and Mizar alone as they awaited Rio’s arrival to gather. Yuma. Mizar stood quietly, watching Yuma with a flicker of curiosity. He was no stranger to this duty–he, along with Shark, Dumon, and Rio, had each taken turns standing watch over Ray while Yuma recovered. But this moment felt different. Yuma was no longer weakened. He was capable–fully able to remain here and guard Ray himself. Yet he hadn’t hesitated. He had looked Mizar directly in the eye…and entrusted him with the one person he held most dearest. And a flicker of something unplaceable stirred in Mizar’s chest. Yuma trusted him.

There was no disbelief in the thought–only quiet acknowledgment. And perhaps…a faint, unfamiliar question that lingered unspoken. Mizar turned to face the crystal where Ray slept for a moment, before redirecting his focus back to Yuma. “I will protect him,” Mizar said firmly. “You have my word. Just ensure you return.”

Yuma looked up, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in the Barian’s voice. Then, a wide grin broke across his face. Without warning, he threw an arm around Mizar’s shoulders and pulled him down to his level. “See, Mizar! I told you we’d be good friends~!”

Mizar blinked, uncomprehending. “I fail to understand how agreeing to honor your request is anything beyond fulfilling my duty.”

“It’s because I trust you as my friend and pal, and you care about our friendship enough to be there for me!” Yuma said, giving Mizar a light squeeze before letting go. “You also showed concern for your friend’s safe return! That counts, y’know.”

Mizar blinked again, slower this time, Yuma’s enthusiasm echoing in his mind. Something…perhaps had begun to click. “I understand,” he said quietly.

And this time, he almost meant it.

There was a brief shimmer as a Barian Portal opened and Rio stepped into the room. She paused mid-stride, catching the tail end of Yuma’s cheerful exchange with Mizar. A single brow lifted in amusement. “Oh–am I interrupting something?” she asked, her voice light, teasing without edge.

Yuma grinned and moved to her side. “Nope! All wrapped up!” he chirped, before turning back to Mizar. His voice softened, sincerity shining through. “Thanks for holding down the fort. I’ll try not to stay out too late!”

Mizar inclined his head–a formal gesture, but one not entirely devoid of warmth. “Proceed with caution,” he replied, tone steady.

Rio offered a nod to Yuma. “Let’s go find Kotori,” she said, and with that the two of them stepped through the newly formed portal, its glow fading behind them and returning the chamber to stillness.

Silence settled in the throne room–empty of voices, of motion, of urgency. Mizar stared at the space where the portal had vanished, then slowly turned back to the crystal containing Ray. His posture remaining composed, but something small that had shifted. Yuma’s trust. His concern. The way he’d left someone so precious in Mizar’s care without hesitation. ‘He trusts me.’

The thought echoed again, more grounded this time. For Barians, friendship had always been tied to duty–loyalty through action, not emotion. His bond with Dumon had been forged through duty and a shared mutual purpose. But this–this human connection, freely given and filled with feeling–was something else. He didn’t yet understand what it truly meant to be a friend in Yuma’s sense of the word. But the weight of it had begun to take root.

Chapter Text

The still, solemn quiet of the Barian throne room faded behind them–its cold, glowing expanse swallowed by the closing portal. And in the blink of an eye, the scene shifted. A rush of cooler air greeting Rio and Yuma as they stepped out beneath the muted glow of Heartland’s streetlamps. The familiar sight of the Tsukumo residence stood just ahead, bathed in deep shadows. It was past midnight–maybe closer to two, but the city around them hadn’t completely stilled. The hum of distant traffic echoed faintly through the empty streets, mixing with the rustle of leaves that stirred by a passing breeze.

Yuma exhaled softly, his breath misting in the cold early morning air. The world felt too quiet–unnaturally quiet. Not the comforting kind of stillness, but the kind that prickled at the back of his neck, like the city itself was holding its breath. A sense of unease twisted in his gut. His red eyes scanning for any signs of movement, slow and methodically. Something was off and he knew it–but it didn’t truly register until his eyes fell on the roof above. And he saw, her.

A silhouette stood atop the Tsukumo residence, framed by moonlight. Head bowed unnaturally forward, limbs too still. The figure’s long, dark green hair and lighter bangs shifting in the breeze–but it was the posture that sent a chill crawling up Yuma’s spine. Limp. Lifeless. Wrong. “...Tori?” he breathed–and then, louder, “Tori!”

Beside him, Rio tensed, her expression hardening. She felt it too–something was very wrong. “We’ll come up, just…stay there, okay?” Yuma offered, his voice cracking on the words.

Then she moved. Her head lifted slowly, jerking in small, unnatural motions. A glint of orange hazel shone beneath her bangs, but it was wrong–too bright, glowing faintly like something not human stared back at him. Her lips pulled into a stretched, too-wide smile. “Yuma…” Her voice was soft–syrupy, breathless. “Welcome home…my love~”

Yuma recoiled. That wasn’t affection in her voice. It was obsession, laced with something rotted. “Tori, what are you talking about?! There’s nothing between us anymore! What would Alito think, hearing you say that?”

Her smile twitched. Something behind her eyes twisted–a flash of barely contained rage beneath the surface. “...Alito doesn’t matter anymore,” she hissed, voice lowering. “No one matters. Not when they try to come between us. I won’t let anyone–ANYONE squander what we have…”

The rage vanished again, replaced by an eerie calm. And then, the smile returned–wider, seemingly impossible. And then she stepped forward. Off the roof. “TORI!” Yuma screamed.

But she didn’t fall. She landed, weightless and poised, with the unnatural grace of a marionette. Her boots hit the pavement without a sound. And before Yuma could react, her hand snapped forward, gripping his wrist. Her fingers digging in with unnatural strength. “You belong to me,” she whispered, voice high and giddy. “Let’s eliminate Ray. Once he’s gone, there’ll be nothing standing in our way~”

Yuma struggled. “This–this isn’t you, Tori!”

But even as he pulled, her grip only tightened–her expression never changing. “This is me,” she said with unsettling calm. “You’re the one pretending. Say it, Yuma…say you love me–”

“I don’t!” Yuma snapped, yanking his wrist free. Her nails raking across his skin as he tore away, leaving behind bloody scratches.

Rio instinctively moved, catching Yuma by the shoulder and pulling him behind her in a protective stance. Her eyes were fixed on the twisted version of their friend. This couldn’t be Kotori, but what exactly this was, even she was uncertain of. Yet, the face of the one wearing Kotori’s only twisted in rage as it glared forward at them. “So, it’s him again… Ray, this…Ray that…”

A dark aura began to seep from her figure, shadows curling around her like smoke, pulsing with spite. “You chose him over Astral and nearly lost everything. You would’ve abandoned us–me, Astral, the whole world–just for a chance to save Vector…to save Ray. You were ready to hand Don Thousand the world just for a chance that Vector might return to being Ray.”

Her voice cracked with bitter venom. “You were supposed to be my partner. But the moment it mattered most…you weren’t even thinking of me.”

She took a slow step forward, and the air growing colder. “Yet, the worst part…the part I can’t forget…” Her voice dropped, trembling with poisonous resentment. “You made me believe you loved me. You touched me–held me like I meant something. And I let myself believe it…just for a moment.” Her eyes gleamed now, hollow and livid. “Then you whispered his name.”

Yuma could only look away, shame rising like a tide. “Tori… please stop.”

But she didn’t. “Not mine. Not once.” Her smile curled at the edges–sickly sweet, twisted. “You moaned his. Ray…” Her voice dripped with contempt, her eyes alight with something feral. “You weren’t with me. You never were. I was just a placeholder for a ghost.”

The words landed like a punch to the chest. Yuma’s breath caught–horror flickering across his face. Not just at what she’d said, but at the memory behind it. The guilt. The truth. His throat tightened and he staggered back, unable to speak. Unable to breathe. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Never. And yet…maybe he had been selfish. Back then, he hadn’t fully understood what his feelings toward Ray meant. He thought it was friendship–intense, loyal, maybe overwhelming at times. But as he got older, it became harder to ignore. The truth had settled like dust on a mirror–only becoming clear once it was too late. As by then, he was already with Kotori. And Ray... Well, Ray had always felt unreachable. Aloof. Seemingly uninterested in romance. Unclear in his affections as they were easily written off as just being the nice gestures of a friend. And Yuma, afraid and unsure–had convinced himself there was no chance. So, he’d thought maybe he could find happiness with Kotori instead.

Was that wrong?

His body trembled, breath unsteady. The guilt clawing its way up his spine, wrapping tight around his ribs like iron. Maybe he had used her–unintentionally, yes, but still. Was he cruel for seeking comfort when the path he truly wanted had seemed impossible? For hoping he could be happy with someone other than Ray?

The thought gnawed at him, slow and sharp. ‘Maybe she’s right. Maybe I was selfish.’

But then…the memory shifted. Kotori had never screamed at him. Never accused. Even after the truth came out, she hadn’t lashed out. The breakup had been mutual–painful, yes, but quiet and honest. She’d moved on quickly with Alito, and the two had found something real. She had never had a reason to say things like this. Not then and not now. This wasn’t her voice.

Yuma slowly looked up, eyes burning–not with shame anymore, but with clarity. “You’re not her…” he whispered. “Kotori would never say these things.”

He straightened himself up, steadying his breath. “Kotori is my childhood friend. She’s never been anything but supportive of me. Even after we broke up, she checked in–she cared. She knew I was hurting, and she wanted me to be okay. That’s who she is. That’s always been who she is. She’s wanted me to be happy, whether that meant being together or not.”

His voice rose with conviction, cutting through the stillness like a blade of truth. “And I know she loves Alito. So whoever you are–your game’s over.”

He took a small step forward, eyes locked on the twisted imitation wearing her face. “Give us back the real Tori.”

There was a moment of silence and then laughter. Low, distorted and wrong. The figure’s smile stretched, cracking too wide at the edges. Her form shimmering like static, glitching at the seams. And then, it dropped–the illusion. Her voice twisted, dropping in pitch, turning cold, hollow, bitter. “A pity. You weren’t supposed to call my bluff so soon…”

The world seemed to hold its breath as something peeled away. Kotori still stood there–but now, a faint, ghostlike outline shimmered behind her. Towering and familiar. The true puppeteer. A Barian form emerged, half-phased through her body like a specter barely tethered: Alito’s Shadow. His red-skinned frame hovered above the ground, blade-like horns curving from either side of his alien mask-like face. His crimson vest glowing faintly, the orange-lined fabric catching the moonlight, yellow gems glinting across his chest and arms. The massive Barian Emblem pulsing ominously from his right side–while his Baria Crystal gleamed from his left wrist, alive with a hunger that wasn’t entirely his own.

“You were supposed to fall for it,” the Shadow hissed. “Maybe not completely. Just enough to make him doubt. Just enough to make Vector wonder… ‘Does Yuma really love me?’”

Yuma’s blood ran cold. “That was the plan,” it continued. “Not to kill. Not at first. I just wanted him to see. That even you, his brightest light could be tempted. That no one is immune to betrayal. Not even you, Yuma.”

A silence hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Yuma’s heart was pounding in his ears. But it wasn’t him who spoke next. “...Alito’s Shadow,” Rio said quietly, eyes narrowed in recognition. Her voice was steady, but her fists were clenched.

The Shadow turned its gaze on her slowly, then tilted its head, a smirk twitching through Kotori’s face–the vessel it was possessing. The voice now deepened–sharpened. It wasn’t Kotori’s anymore. It wasn’t even a mimic. It was Alito’s true voice. His unhealed, unchained fury. “That’s right,” it said. “The part of him he keeps locked away. The part that remembers what Vector did. That still hears Don Thousand whispering in the dark. The part that will never forgive any of you for standing by and letting him fall–twice.”

The Shadow stepped forward, the world darkening in its wake. “But now that your little speech has ruined the fun… I’ll improvise.”

A pulse of malevolent energy spiraled around the Shadow and its vessel. “If I can’t twist your love into a weapon… Then I’ll settle for dragging your broken body to Vector as a gift.”

“If you want Yuma,” Rio snapped, not moving from her protective stance in front of him. “You’re going to have to go through me!”

Her hand flew to her Duel Disk, ready to draw it–until a calm voice, low and sure, cut through the tension: “Marin…this fight is mine.”

Rio froze, her eyes widening. Yuma turned sharply–both of them now staring at the figure standing just beyond the streetlight’s reach. Somehow, neither had noticed his approach. But the Duel Disk already active on his wrist, the deck secured in place, and the steady fire behind his eyes made it clear: he had been there for a while, watching, listening and waiting.

Alito.

His physique was unmistakable–an athlete’s build, honed like a boxer’s: lean, precise, and brimming with latent power. Dark brown skin caught the silver cast of the moonlight, sharpening the lines of his jaw and the strong cut of his cheekbones. His hair kept its texture, tentacle-like, akin to Shark’s–but cut shorter in the back and layered with intent. Styled with messy, thick bangs that hung low over his right eye. His left remained visible: sharp, vivid– an emerald green, alive with intensity. Three gold rings adorned his right hand, each one different in style. And his outfit was clean, deliberate: a dark crimson bomber jacket, short-collared and stitched with faint flame motifs. With a sleeveless black compression shirt beneath, snug to his torso. With black tactical pants, reinforced at the knees and hips, held in place by a low-hanging belt with a crystal-tipped dagger–clearly ceremonial and dark boots, with a single crimson stripe down the worn soles, scuffed from use.

He moved with calm purpose, every stride firm and grounded. Yuma and Rio instinctively stepping behind him–not to hide, but to support. The shift acting seamlessly. “Alito…” Yuma began.

Alito didn’t look back, but he lifted a hand slightly, shaking his head. “It’s alright, Yuma. I know you’d never betray my trust. Just like I know Kotori loves me, not you.” He paused, turning just enough for Yuma to catch the fire in his gaze. “That’s why this is my fight.”

His voice dropped to something softer–but stronger. “I love her, Yuma. So let me be the one to bring her back.”

Yuma didn’t argue. He understood all too well. If it had been Ray, he would’ve done the same. “You got this, Alito!” Yuma said with conviction. “Bring the real Tori home.”

Alito smirked, the fire in him unwavering. “There was never going to be any other ending.” He responded, squaring his stance. “So let’s, Duel.”

The Shadow of Alito let out a guttural snarl, retreating back into Kotori’s form. A Duel Disk crackling into being on her arm. “You fools... I WILL have my revenge on Vector–whether I have to tear through all of you or not!”

“You’re not even getting the chance to lay a finger on anyone!” Alito snapped, stepping forward with fire in his eyes. “So forget your twisted little vendetta–because if you want Yuma, you’re going through me!”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, his Duel Gazer snapped into place, the familiar glow of its activation sparking across his eye. He drew his hand with practiced precision, then plucked one extra card free for his draw. “I’m taking the first move–DRAW!”

His voice rang with conviction, echoing across the still night. “Now I summon Battlin’ Boxer Counterpunch, to the ring!”

A burst of energy ignited on the field as a humanoid brawler materialized in a low stance, fists raise and ready to go. “Next–I activate the Spell Card, Ring Announcer! This lets me call in another fighter from my corner!”

Alito flashed the card before sliding it into his Duel Disk. “Make some noise for Battlin’ Boxer Glassjaw!”

Another fighter joined the fray as Alito placed his monster card on the Duel Disk. “And now, I overlay Battlin’ Boxer Counterpunch and Glassjaw! To Xyz Summon–”

Alito raised his arm high as both monsters dissolved into fiery red energy, spiraling upward. The energy spiraling together and joining into the Overlay Network’s vortex swirling before Alito. A burst of light followed and from the swirling void emerged a chained fighter, grim and imposing, heavy restraints clamped over its head and wrist. “Come on out–Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke!”

“Way to go, Alito!” Yuma called from the sideline, pumping his fist with a grin.

Beside him, Rio crossed her arms, eyes narrowed but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips–happy to see Yuma’s energy returning. “Keep your guard up, Alito. That thing won’t fight fair,” she added slowly, turning her focus to her fellow Emperor.

Alito didn’t turn, but their voices reached him all the same. He gave a small nod, before he locked eyes with the Shadow once more. “I set two cards…” His Duel Disk reacted as the cards were set, appearing behind Lead Yoke on the field. “…And that’s my opening bell.”

The Shadow of Alito, still puppeteering Kotori’s form, moved with eerie precision–her hand drifting toward the deck. “I draw!” it hissed, yanking a card free. “I summon Battlin’ Boxer Switchitter!”

The card slapped into the Duel Disk and in a flash, a humanoid fighter had emerged. “And since I control a Battlin’ Boxer, I can Special Summon Battlin’ Boxer Sparrer from my hand!”

Another card slid into place, and a second boxer appeared beside the first. The Shadow grinned, its voice warping into a distorted echo. “Now… I’ll do what you cannot,” it sneered, raising Kotori’s hand to the sky. Her fingers twitched unnaturally, as if strung by invisible wires. “When I Xyz Summon using Switchitter, it counts as two materials! So I overlay my three Level 4 monsters…and construct the Overlay Network!”

The trio dissolved into scarlet particles and spiraled into the whirling vortex of energy before the Shadow. With a pulse of power and flash of blinding light, a warrior burst forth onto the field. “Appear! Number 105: Battlin’ Boxer Star Cestus!”

The sleek, gold-and-blue armored fighter materialized, battle-ready. But the Shadow wasn’t finished, not even close. A dark card shimmered between its fingers–the familiar signature Rank-Up-Magic Card all the Shadows used. “Now I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow’s Force!” the Shadow roared. “By using Star Cestus as material… I rebuild the Overlay Network—”

The portal opened again, Star Cestus dissolving into the void. “Chaos Xyz Evolution!!”

“Enter the ring—Chaos Number 105: Battlin’ Boxer Comet Cestus!”

The masked figure emerged. His body sheathed in a black bodysuit and gleaming violet metallic armor, with wing-like blades arcing from his back, glowing with crimson energy that pulsed like a heartbeat. Unmistakably Alito’s signature Number… but summoned by the Shadow of him.

A sick laugh escaped the Shadow’s lips as it turned to Alito. “I’m sure this looks familiar, doesn’t it? Your Number–your legacy. But it doesn’t belong to you anymore…does it?”

Alito’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. “When your Comet Cestus was destroyed by your true Number–Number 54: Lion Heart your bond was severed.”

“That was your redemption, Alito…but it was also your loss,” The Shadow continued. “Your soul was cleansed of Don Thousand’s corruption. And in doing so, you were stripped of your resonance with this card. You can’t summon it–not now and not ever again.”

The Shadow laughed, enjoying every moment of this. “Your fellow Emperors–Mizar, Dumon, Marin, Nasch…? For some, the severance wasn’t complete. Their Numbers may have been born from Don Thousand’s power–but the bonds they forged with them…became something more. Something deeper than corruption. And so, they remained… tethered.”

“Mizar was always different,” the Shadow continued, voice laced with contempt. “Even if his Dragon was a Chaos Number it was never just a weapon–it was his pride, his will. His bond with it ran deeper than Don Thousand’s corruption. So when the corruption was stripped away, that bond held firm. Faint, fractured–but not gone. He summoned it once more, yes.” The Shadow grinned. “But perhaps that won’t always be the case...”

The Shadow’s gaze shifted–slowly and deliberately toward Yuma. Its smirk deepened into something almost cruel. “And one more…stands apart.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Yuma’s eyes narrowed as the pieces began to fall into place. He remembered–Ray. Ray had summoned Masquerade and Umbral Horror Masquerade. Not once, but twice: during the Duel against Vector’s Shadow, and again against Marin’s Shadow. By the Shadows’ logic and Yuma’s own, from seeing first hand Alito lose his ability to summon his own number, that connection Ray shared with Don Thousand’s power should have been gone for good. After all–Yuma had been there, he’d seen Shark destroyed Umbral Horror Masquerade with King Overfiend. But it hadn’t. A cold jolt ran through Yuma’s chest.

Ray’s bond wasn’t broken. He was the exception.

The Shadow’s voice sliced through his thoughts like a blade. “You’re probably piecing it together now. You saw Vector summon a card he shouldn’t have been able to–Vector’s an exception. One you’ll soon come to understand.”

Yuma’s jaw clenched. Was this Shadow trying to get inside his head? No–it had to be wrong. Don Thousand was gone. Dead. Even if some Barian Emperors still held fragments of their old ties to him, it didn’t matter now. Not with Don Thousand out of the picture. This was just a mind game. A twisted attempt to sow doubt. “None of that matters!” Yuma shot back, voice firm. “I won’t let you turn me against Ray. Don Thousand is finished–and these Number Cards? They’re on our side now.”

The Shadow’s low chuckle echoed with malice. “If that’s what you believe, then by all means,” it sneered. “But I suppose you’ll find out soon enough…”

Yuma could feel his resolve falter but he crushed it beneath something sharper.

Anger.

The Shadow was trying to break him. Again. It had already confessed its actions were all meant to torment Vector, to break him. Now it was just grasping at whatever weakness it could find. But this–this wasn’t weakness. This was Ray. And Yuma was done being a pawn to be used to break the person he loved. He felt his chest tighten and his hands trembled–but not from fear. From rage. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp. “Shut up,” Yuma hissed.

The Shadow tilted its head, amused. But Yuma wasn’t done yet, his eyes blazed. “You don’t get to say his name,” he snapped, voice sharp as broken glass. “You don’t know him. You twist things. Corrupt them. All you are is a parasite. A coward hiding behind someone else’s skin!”

Rio’s head turned, startled by the venom in his voice. Even Alito’s gaze shifted as well as his brows tightened. It wasn’t what Yuma said–it was how he said it. Yuma stepped forward, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. His breath trembled in his chest–but his voice came low and seething. “If anyone DARES to take Ray from me again…”

“I’ll erase them. Myself.”

The words dropped like a stone, the air turning heavy and cold. Rio blinked–visibly shaken. Her hand lifting gently to Yuma’s shoulder, steady but soft, her concern slowly shifting into quiet protectiveness. “Yuma…you’re okay,” she said, her voice calm yet firm. “We’ve got you, alright?” Her thumb brushed lightly along his arm as a grounding gesture. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Even Alito looked caught off guard, but only for a moment. Then his stance shifted. That protective fire lit behind his eyes. He’d had enough. First, the Shadow had tried to manipulate Yuma using Kotori. Now it was coming after him again digging at his grief and twisting his fears about Ray. Alito knew things had been a little strained between him and Yuma since he started dating Kotori–but that didn’t matter. Not now. He still cared, just like Kotori did. Yuma was their friend and Alito wasn’t about to stand by and let him be torn apart.

Alito’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, voice sharp and cutting. “Enough.” He said jabbing a finger toward the Shadow. “Your fight’s with me. Not him. You leave Yuma out of this!”

The Shadow tilted its head, still amused–but the weight of the moment had shifted. Behind Alito, Yuma’s eyes couldn’t help but fall to the ground before he closed them. His body was still trembling–not just from the fury, but from the weight of everything. The desperation, the grief and the absolute refusal to lose Ray again…knowing he might not come back from it. He drew in a shaky breath. Rio’s hand anchoring him quiet, steady and the haze of fury began to thin. His fists slowly uncurled. “...Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean…”

Rio gave a small shake of her head. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “You’ve been through a lot, Yuma. No one’s blaming you for feeling something real.”

Alito didn’t look back, but his voice was laced with quiet conviction. “Just focus on holding it together. Let me handle this. I’m gonna wipe the floor with this Shadow!” Alito said, determination and fire burning in his eyes.

The Shadow gave a slow, mocking smile. “I’d like to see you try, especially without your number,” the Shadow reminded, perhaps trying once more to push under Alito’s skin.

But Alito didn’t flinch. His glare cut straight through the Shadow, “I don’t need my number to beat you–why don’t you just Duel and find out why,” Alito challenged.

The Shadow chuckled darkly, raising Kotori’s hand. “Then let’s get started, shall we?” It responded, shifting them back into the Duel’s rhythm. “I activate Chaos Number 105: Battlin’ Boxer Comet Cestus’s special ability! Once per turn, by detaching a Chaos Overlay Unit, I can destroy one monster on your field and inflict damage equal to its attack points!”

The Shadow pointed directly at Alito’s monster, eyes gleaming with malice. “Comet Cestus, GET RID of Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke!”

Comet Cestus’s wings surged with violent energy, readying the attack–until Alito stepped in. “I activate my Counter Trap—Xyz Block!” He declared, activating his set card. “By detaching one Overlay Unit from Lead Yoke, I negate your monster’s effect!”

The energy gathering around Comet Cestus fizzled out as the trap took hold. “And when Lead Yoke uses an Overlay Unit, his attack rises by 800!” Alito added.

Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke’s attack climbed in response from 2200 to 3000, now surpassing Comet Cestus by a narrow margin. The Shadow letting of a scoff, slipping two cards into its Duel Disk. “Tch. I set two cards and end my turn.”

“Then I draw!” Alito said, his hand moving to his deck in one fluid motion. “I’m activating the Spell, Xyz Treasure! I can draw one card for each Xyz monster on the field–so I’ll be adding two new cards to my hand!”

With practiced ease, Alito drew two cards and added them to his hand before proceeding. “Now, Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke—attack Comet Cestus!”

“Forgetting about your own Number card’s effect?” the Shadow cut in, smirking through Kotori’s possessed voice. “I use one of Chaos Number 105: Battlin’ Boxer Comet Cestus’s Chaos Overlay Units to destroy Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke!”

“Hardly.” Alito’s tone didn’t falter. He whipped a card from his hand. “I counter with the Quick-Play Spell–Overlay Flash!”

But the Shadow merely raised Kotori’s hand in mocking approval. “How quaint.” A trap card flipped on his Duel Disk. “I activate my Set card–Shadow Corkscrew Reversal! When you activate a Spell or Trap, I can negate and destroy it...and you take 500 points of damage.”

There was no further response, no counter–no miracle play. Alito’s life points dropped, 4000 → 3500, and the impact sending him to his knees. Pain tore through him, sharp and sudden, but he refused to stay down. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself back to his feet. Like any fighter in the ring, one blow wasn’t going to take him out. That fire still burned behind his emerald eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he growled.

The Shadow scoffed. “Cute. Even when you know it’s over, you act tough.” Kotori’s possessed body raised its hand with eerie precision. “Chaos Number 105: Battlin’ Boxer Comet Cestus resumes its effect–by using one Chaos Overlay Unit your Lead Yoke is finished!”

The energy gathered again in the monster’s wings, igniting like a flare. Then the impact came. Battlin’ Boxer Lead Yoke shattered into particles, the force blasting Alito clean off his feet. He hit the ground hard, skidding from the shockwave. But the damage didn’t stop at his monster, Comet Cestus’s ability dealt him the full weight of Lead Yoke’s ATK. 3500 life points dropping to only 500.

Alito’s breath came in ragged bursts, pain radiating through his body as he lay there, stunned. From the sidelines, Rio took an urgent step forward, her eyes wide. “Alito!” she cried, her voice breaking with fear.

Yuma’s spiraling thoughts had also snapped into silence. The grief, the doubt–it all vanished. His focus locked on Alito, crumpled on the ground and moments away from defeat. This couldn’t be it. Not like this.

And then–the Shadow’s voice sliced through the silence, low and venomous. “Now…this is the end. Comet Cestus–attack directly! Celestial Burst!”

Comet Cestus reeled back, its fist glowing with deadly crimson light. Energy surged, compressed and then fired. A beam of searing power tore across the field–a cloud of smoke exploding where Alito stood…

Chapter Text

The smoke hadn’t cleared yet. Yuma merely stood frozen, the world muffled around him like he was underwater. He didn’t hear Rio calling Alito’s name again. Didn’t feel the wind whip past him. All he could hear was the echo of that blast and the ringing silence that followed. “Alito!” Yuma’s voice cracked, breaking through the haze. “Alito, please–get up!”

Not again.

His mind replayed the blast in slow, jagged fragments–the flash, the impact, the way Alito had crumpled. Ray was still healing–fragile, but holding on after the Marin’s Shadow’s cruel assault. And now this. Now Alito, too? The thought coiled tight around his chest, squeezing until it was hard to breathe. How many more would there be? How many more had to suffer because of him? Because he couldn’t protect them?

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Not until he saw Alito move again. Please. Please get up.

The Shadow of Alito seemed to snicker next, its eyes locking onto Yuma with sickening delight as it manipulated Kotori’s form, forcing a twisted finger to point at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll be next–my little present for Vector…”

Yuma’s red eyes snapped toward the shadow, his body tensing, ready to defend–but then a voice cut through the darkness, calm yet unmistakable: “…There wasn’t a bell…”

“Alito!?” Yuma gasped, relief flooding his chest.

Rio let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and shook her head. “Gezz, Alito, you really had us worried!”

Alito gave a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his head. “I had everything under control,” he remarked glancing their way, a bit of that usual fire in his eyes. “You should know by now–I don’t go down that easy.”

A flicker of anger twisted across the Shadow’s face as the smoke cleared, revealing Alito still standing firm. “What?! How did you survive!?” it hissed, incredulous.

Alito lifted a hand, confident despite the strain in his posture. “Simple. I activated my Trap Card–Hyper Burning. It reduced the battle damage I would’ve taken to zero...in exchange for half my Life Points.”

The Duel Gazer interface blinked: Alito’s 500 life points dropping to 250. Yuma’s eyes widened, breaking into a relieved grin. “Alito! That was amazing!” he called out, light returning to his voice–until the Shadow cut in with a bitter snarl.

“A meaningless act of defiance,” it sneered. “It’s my turn now.”

Alito didn’t flinch. Instead, he gave a sharp, toothy grin. “So what if it is? I told you–I don’t need my Number to beat you.”

“You have no Set Cards. No monsters. Only two cards in your hand. You’re bluffing—”

“I said make your move,” Alito snapped, voice steady and eyes burning with challenge. “Or are you scared of a guy with 250 Life Points?”

“You won’t be that confident much longer,” the Shadow of Alito hissed, placing a hand to its deck. “I draw!”

“If the first round wasn’t enough, then this second one will finish you. I summon Battlin’ Boxer Switchitter!” It sneered, voice rising with twisted satisfaction.

Another boxing-themed humanoid appeared now standing beside Comet Cestus on the field. “When I Xyz Summon,” the Shadow continued, “Switchitter counts as two monsters! So I overlay my two Level 4 Battlin’ Boxers!”

The Overlay Network spiraled open in a vortex, the shadow raising Kotori’s hand toward the sky. “I Xyz Summon! Number 80: Rhapsody in Berserk!”

Crimson particles of light spiraled into the Overlay Network and in turn a sleek black-plated warrior adorned with gold accents and a flowing purple cape took to the field. But the Shadow wasn’t finished. “Now, I activate Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force!” It declared. “I rebuild the Overlay Network using Number 80: Rhapsody in Berserk!”

The Xyz Monster dissolved into crimson particles, spiraling once more into the Overlay Network before the Shadow. Light exploding outward–brighter, more intense than before as a new figure descended in its place. “I Xyz Summon… Chaos Number 80: Requiem in Berserk!”

The newly summoned monster towered over the field–a fearsome white and gold plated warrior with a pulsing crimson core. With jagged red wing-like appendages stretching from its back.

“Still confident?” the Shadow sneered, eyes narrowing with malice.

Alito barely glanced up, his tone cool and unimpressed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The memory of his Duel with Yuma lingered in his mind. He already knew where this was going. Predictable. Uninspired. “I guess we’ll just see if you can execute it better than I did,” he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

That smirk hit its mark–agitating the Shadow. Its expression twisting in anger. “Don’t mock me!” the Shadow snapped. “I use one Chaos Overlay Unit to activate Requiem in Berserk’s effect! All monsters in your Graveyard are banished–meaning you can’t rely on Battlin’ Boxer Counterpunch anymore!”

Chaos Number 80: Requiem in Berserk punched the ground, cracks spiderwebbing outward as energy flared. The monsters within Alito’s Graveyard becoming banished in an instant. But Alito didn’t flinch. He leaned back slightly, feigning a yawn. “Wow. Copying my moves and my strategy? What’s next–gonna equip it to Comet Cestus? Are you feeling very original yet? I’m starting to think you Shadows are just one-trick ponies,” Alito taunted.

The Shadow’s face twisted, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. Then it sneered. “Funny coming from a loser whose best trick ended in defeat,” It hissed. “You call me unoriginal, but your failure will become my victory.”

Alito shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “To think Nasch made you Shadows sound like a real threat. Or maybe you’re just the weakest of the bunch. Yeah… I’m starting to think it’s that one.”

He jabbed a thumb toward himself. “You couldn’t win a fair Duel, so you went after my friend instead. Tried to mess with Yuma’s head. Coward move.”

His expression darkened, voice sharpening. “And dragging Kotori into it? Possessing her body just to play mind games?” Alito’s hands clenched into fists, a flash of raw anger blazing across his face. But it wasn’t just rage–it was love, fierce and clear, Alito’s driving motive for this Duel as it was to save Kotori. “You didn’t just cross a line–you erased it. I won’t forgive you for that!”

Though Alito wasn’t done. “And let’s not forget you were too scared to face me. Too scared to face Yuma in a fair fight. And way too scared to go to Barian World and deal with Mizar yourself–to get your shot at Vector.”

The Shadow’s sneer twisted into rage. “I’ve had enough of your mouth! I’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“I equip Chaos Number 80: Requiem in Berserk to Chaos Number 105: Battlin' Boxer Comet Cestus!”

In an instant Requiem fused with Comet Cestus, augmenting its armor with new pieces. Its energy flared as its attack surged from 2800 to 4800, a 2000 attack increase. But Alito didn’t flinch. The move just rolled his shoulders as Alito exhaled like he’d just finished a warm-up round. “Huh. Guess that answers my question,” he said flatly. “This match really is over.”

“ENOUGH!” the Shadow shrieked. “Comet Cestus, attack him directly!!”

“Bad move,” Alito snapped, eyes narrowing. “When I’m about to take damage, I can Special Summon Battlin’ Boxer Veil from my hand–and reduce the damage to zero!”

The Shadow laughed cruelly, cutting him off. “Is that your flimsy defense? Pathetic! I activate Comet Cestus’s effect! By detaching one Chaos Overlay Unit, your monster is destroyed!”

Comet Cestus gathered crimson energy in its wings and launched it in a searing burst. Battlin’ Boxer Veil fading in a flash of sparks.

“Now,” the Shadow hissed, eyes gleaming. “My attack resumes. Finish him!”

But Alito stood firm. His eyes narrowed as he held up a card. “That was your warning shot. Since you didn’t take the hint–I activate my Quick-Play Spell: Lion’s Reversal!”

“Wh-What?!” the Shadow gasped.

“Yeah, Alito! Way to counter!” Yuma whooped, pumping his fist. “Man, he’s so cool–he’s totally turning this around!”

Rio raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “He certainly likes to cut it close,” she muttered–but there was a flicker of pride in her voice.

Alito continued, voice steady. “Lion’s Reversal lets me Special Summon an Xyz Monster from my Extra Deck if you control an Xyz monster and I’ve got no monsters. So I’m summoning my ancient ace–Number 54: Lion Heart!”

He slapped the card onto his Duel Disk. A flash of light erupting as the gladiator-like figure emerged, its lion’s mane of hair flaring, masked face unreadable, muscles tensed and ready. “But that’s not all,” Alito added, lifting another finger. “Lion’s Reversal also lets me steal all your Overlay Units. They’re mine now!”

The Shadow’s expression twisted in disbelief as glowing orbs flew from Comet Cestus and surrounded Lion Heart instead. “NO—!”

The massive punch from Comet Cestus crashed into Lion Heart, blasting Alito backward. He hit the ground with a grunt, and his Life Points dropped to zero–Alito winced, one hand on the ground, but he grinned through the pain. “I use one of Lion Heart’s Overlay Units—Reviving Jolt! To bring me back up with 100 Life Points.”

With a flicker his life points flashed from 0 back up to 100. A gasp passing his lips from the shocking burst of jolting energy used to revive him from ‘death’ so to speak.

Rio let out a breath. “Geez, Alito… You had to make it dramatic, huh?”

Yuma laughed, full of energy. “Alright! Lion Heart’s on the field–there’s no way he’s losing now!”

The Shadow looked livid, its voice sharp with frustration. “Tch. I end my turn.”

Alito’s hand moved to his deck with practiced ease. “Then it’s my turn–and time to end this Duel! I draw!”

He didn’t even look at the card before slamming it into his Duel Disk. “I activate my Spell: Lion Heart Armour–Last Stand!”

“This card lets my monster’s attack become equal to the one it’s battling!” Alito declared, eyes blazing.

The hologram flared to life, Lion Heart let out a roar as new armor slid into place over its shoulders and chest, its ATK skyrocketing from 100 to 4800, matching Comet Cestus point for point. “Now battle!”

The Shadow snarled. “Not so fast! You think I’ll just let you destroy my monster?! I activate my Counter Trap–Vein Shatter Chain! When you activate an Equip Spell, it lets me negate the activation and destroy it!” It cackled with manic glee. “Your strategy’s finished!”

But Alito didn’t flinch. He smirked. “...Thanks.”

The Shadow froze. “...Y-You played me…?”

Alito nodded, confidence burning behind his eyes. “And it wasn’t even hard. Last Stand’s real effect activates from the Graveyard! By banishing it, our monsters’ ATK switch and Comet Cestus attack drops to zero!”

The numbers flashed on the Duel Interface as Comet Cestus’s attack fell to 0, while Lion Heart remained at 4800. “There’s nothing you can do now,” Alito said, his voice calm but deadly serious. “Lion Heart–finish this Duel!”

Without hesitation, Lion Heart lunged forward, its clawed fist drawn back–and struck. Comet Cestus shattering under the blow, fragments of light bursting across the field. The impact hit like a shockwave, the Shadow’s Life Points plummeting from 4000 to 0 in a single instant. The last of the Shadow’s energy twisting, shrieking in defiance as it was torn from Kotori’s body. Its essence scattered like smoke in the wind–but the force of its exit mixed with force of the impact of the monster’s attack had sent her flying.

“Tori!” Alito’s voice cracked as he rushed forward, catching her in his arms and twisting his body to shield her from the impact of the ground, taking the brunt himself. He shifted to sit up, pulling her tight against him. “Tori…” he whispered again, all the confidence from the battle gone and replaced with raw fear.

His arms trembled around her. “...Please–come on, don’t do this to me…”

Above them, the word VICTORY flashed across the holographic display. But it felt hollow. Distant. Like background noise to a moment that had stopped time. Yuma stood frozen beside Rio, both staring in tense silence. He knew this pain all too well–the helplessness of holding someone you loved and not knowing if they’d come back. He’d lived it with Ray, and his hand found its way to Ray’s Baria Crystal, gripping it in desperate support as he relived that moment.

Rio swallowed hard, her expression unreadable, but her voice was low. “It’s not supposed to happen like this…”

They all knew she was right–and that only made the uncertainty worse. None of them truly understood the consequences of a human being possessed by a Shadow, or what it could ultimately do. The fear of the unknown pressed heavily on all of them. Alito bowing his head as he rocked Kotori gently in his arms, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect you…” He’d began the weight of his failings crashing around him.

But then–so faint as if it could have been imagined, a soft groan. Alito froze but a second later, Kotori stirred, her eyelashes fluttering. And then those familiar hazel-orange eyes opened, glassy but conscious. “...Alito?”

Alito’s breath hitched. “Tori…!” He hugged her close, relief crashing over him like a tidal wave. “You’re okay–you’re okay…”

Yuma let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, grinning through glassy eyes. “She’s back…!”

Rio smiled faintly, arms folding with a small shake of her head. “Geez… always cutting it close.”

“...Alito, I don’t understand…what happened?” Kotori asked quietly, her voice soft but wary. “I was on my way to check on Yuma, and then everything went dark…”

Alito exchanged a glance with Rio and Yuma–each masking their own turmoil. None of them ready to reveal everything yet. “I’ll explain everything later,” he said carefully. “For now, let’s get you home.”

He moved to help Kotori to her feet, taking a moment to reach out to absorb his Shadow’s essence and reclaim his Barian powers. Before his focus was on Kotori once more–concern and protectiveness plain in his eyes. “Can you stand?” he asked gently.

“...I think I’m okay–” She began, but before she finished, Alito swept her into his arms. Her sudden flush was more than surprise than an unspoken acknowledgment of how much he cared. “A-Alito?!” she murmured, breathless.

He smiled softly, kissing her with a tenderness that spoke volumes beyond words. Kotori returning it, a quiet reassurance passing between them.

Yet, as she settled against Alito, her gaze flickered toward Yuma–there was something unsaid there. “...Yuma, could we talk tomorrow?” She asked quietly, the request carrying more weight than it seemed.

Yuma hesitated, feeling the delicate tension beneath her words. Still, he nodded slowly, hopeful despite the past. “Sure thing, Tori–as long as you’re feeling better.”

Kotori smiled softly, but the warmth held a flicker of longing–for friendship, for healing old wounds. “Then…we’ll see you tomorrow–”

She had barely finished her words when a flicker of dimensional energy surged nearby. Four familiar figures emerged from the shimmering haze–Kite, Orbital 7, Dumon, and Shark. “There you are,” Shark said, his voice low but edged with urgency. His sharp gaze swept over the group before landing on Kotori, his expression easing just slightly. “You found her.”

Yuma blinked in surprise. “Nasch…? Kite? Dumon?”

“What took you so long?” Rio asked, crossing her arms as she looked toward her brother.

“We initially thought she might have made it to Yuma’s place, like Alito conveyed to Yuma,” Dumon replied, stepping forward. “But the energy spike we tracked came from an entirely different location.”

“We think it was where the Shadow originally manifested–and where Kotori vanished,” Shark added, glancing at Dumon in agreement.

Kite folded his arms, eyes partially scanning his surroundings. “Looks like we just missed the action.”

Dumon’s gaze turned to Alito, thoughtful. “Am I correct in assuming your Barian powers have returned?”

Alito smirked and nodded. “That’s right. That Shadow didn’t stand a chance.”

“You’ve always been one of our most capable Duelists. I expected nothing less,” Dumon said with a flicker of a smile.

Alito dipped his head slightly grateful to the acknowledgement. “There’s a lot we need to go over,” he said. “But not tonight.”

“Agreed,” Dumon said calmly. “Go, Alito. We’ll arrange a full meeting in the days to come. Rest while you can.”

With a final glance toward Yuma and the others, Alito opened a portal and stepped through with Kotori, vanishing out of sight. Shark turning his attention to Rio. “You can give us the report after we drop Yuma back off in Barian World.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with mischief. “I wouldn’t need to if you hadn’t been late. Don’t tell me you and Dumon got ‘sidetracked’ somewhere.”

Shark scowled. “Get real, Rio.”

“So, Kite didn’t have to keep you two on task,” Rio teased, her grin growing.

“I did not,” Kite replied flatly, not even meeting their gaze–though a flicker of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “...Barely.”

Shark exhaled in exasperation, but there was no real bite behind it. Rio just laughed, the tension from the night finally beginning to ease. And in the soft lull that followed, something unspoken lingered between them all. They had overcome five of the Barian Emperors’ Shadows now and despite the hardship, they still stood together. Sure, things weren’t fully back to how they used to be–too much had changed for that. But maybe, just maybe…tomorrow could be the start of building back to the way things used to be. And with that quiet understanding, the group turned toward the portal, stepping through the shimmer of light as they departed for Barian World.

Chapter Text

The cold stone floor of the Barian throne room would have been miserable for anyone else. But Yuma had never quite fallen into the category of ‘normal.’ Despite the chill seeping through the blanket and his jacket, as well as the awkward angle his neck had craned into despite the pillow, it was, without question, the best sleep he’d had since the Duel with the Shadow of Marin.

Because here, even in silence and stillness, Ray was close.

The crystalized stasis Ray remained sealed within pulsed faintly just inches away, casting dim orange light that flickered across the throne room’s floor. And while it wasn’t much…it was enough. Enough for Yuma to breathe again, to ease the tightness that had gripped his chest since that day. Enough to quiet the replaying of Ray’s collapsed state–or of Yuma watching helplessly as Marin used him to torment the one person he loved.

The past week had been a brutal pendulum swing of highs and lows. Relapse moments of pain and guilt that threatened to consume Yuma whole, mixed with moments of laughter shared between his friends. Even with Mizar, in his own way–standing like a silent guardian. And now it seemed like Alito and Kotori might come back into his life. Complicated, yes. Maybe even painful, due to the guilt Yuma felt. But maybe not beyond saving. Maybe, with time, that friendship and the bonds they’d once shared, could be rebuilt.

Still, the ache hadn’t left him.

Even now, wrapped in the dull comfort of proximity to Ray, the silence gnawed at Yuma’s heart. The words they hadn’t said hung heavier than ever. There had been no time before the Duel. No closure. No true confession. Just a storm of emotion was left suspended between them–like a thread never tied off.

Yuma slowly sat up, the blanket sliding off his shoulders as he pulled his knees to his chest, chin resting atop them. His eyes, unwavering as they remained fixed on the Barian Crystal as it pulsed faintly, the glow soft but constant. ‘Come back to me…’

It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. It never left. That quiet, aching plea that echoed every time he looked at Ray sealed inside or thought about him. ‘...Not just so things can go back to how they were…but so we can finally be together.’

This wait was becoming more painful as Yuma desired so deeply for the chance to choose, Ray. To be open about how he felt, without the fear or distance and without any more Shadows standing in their way. And he was desperate for a tomorrow that brought even the slightest chance for that…

As this time, Yuma wouldn’t let it pass him by. But no matter how much he wanted that moment the crystal remained still. Silent.

Yuma sighed, wiping at the fresh sting in his eyes as the soft buzz of a notification chimed from his Duel Gazer resting nearby. His heart jumped slightly from the déjà vu. His thoughts flashing to the call from Alito last night when Kotori had vanished. The ten missed calls that had led to everything spiraling. But this time, there was only one.

With ease he slid the Duel Gazer over his eye and accepted the call. Alito’s face popping into view, bright and brash this time. “Hey, Yuma! Where the heck are you?! We’re at your place!”

Yuma blinked. “Huh?”

“You didn’t forget we were stopping by, did you?!” Alito added with a half-laugh, though it was more exasperated than teasing.

Yuma’s eyes widened as Kotori appeared behind Alito in the projection, Duel Gazer already equipped. Her expression was calm, but there was something in her eyes–concern and it only seemed to deepen when she realized where Yuma was calling from. But Yuma’s mind shifted as he suddenly jolted up onto his feet. “AH?! What time is it?!”

“It’s noon, genius,” Alito deadpanned. “Wait–hold on. Are you in Barian World?!”

Yuma winced. “...I am!” He replied, scrambling to gather his things and hastily rolling the blanket up as he muttered to himself in panic.

From the screen, Kotori didn’t say anything, but her gaze lingered, soft and worried. She hadn’t forgotten the scars Ray’s Duel with the Shadow of Marin had left–even if she’d heard it second hand from Rio, or the weight Yuma had carried since. And it was clear now that even with Ray safe, the wounds hadn’t healed yet. “I’ll be right there!” Yuma shouted, bolting across the throne room.

Without even fully ending the call, he rushed across the throne room, calling out, “Mizar! I need a portal–back to my place!”

“Don’t keep us waiting too long, Yuma,” Alito added, just before the call ended with a sharp click.

Yuma turned from the fading projection and jogged over–only to slow when he noticed Mizar hadn’t moved. The Barian stood completely still, his gaze fixed past Yuma, unfocused yet intense. Not at him. At the crystal. The Barian Crystal glowed with its usual dim, pulsing orange light. But Mizar’s eyes were narrowed, as if he were studying it…listening for something Yuma couldn’t hear. “Mizar?” Yuma called out again, a little louder this time.

The Barian didn’t answer at first. But then finally, Mizar’s sharp blue eyes shifted to meet his. “You are returning so soon?” he asked, voice neutral but edged with something quieter–contemplative, maybe even distracted.

“Yeah,” Yuma replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Apparently it’s already noon, and I totally spaced out that Alito and Kotori were coming by.”

Mizar gave a faint nod. “I see.”

Yuma blinked. The hesitation in Mizar’s voice gave him pause. The tone was off. Flat, almost distracted. “You okay?” he asked, stepping a little closer.

There was a pause–just long enough to make the silence feel like a weight. Then Mizar said simply, “Of course.”

But he did look back at the crystal one last time, before finally meeting Yuma’s gaze. As for a moment, he’d felt it. A flicker. A shift in energy so faint it might have been imagined. The crystal’s resonance had pulsed off-rhythm–just once. Not enough to confirm anything. Not enough to speak of it. And not enough to risk handing Yuma a hope that might break him all over again. Especially now, when he was finally starting to breathe again. So Mizar buried the thought. “I’ll open the portal,” he said, already stepping past Yuma.

Yuma hesitated at Mizar’s side as the portal flared to life, his red eyes drifting one last time toward the crystal. A flicker of something unreadable passing over his face–soft and uncertain before he and Mizar vanished.

The throne room dissolved behind them in a ripple of light and in its place came the familiar surroundings of Yuma’s home. The front yard dappled in soft midday light. The breeze soft and gentle as birds chirped somewhere nearby. And standing at the edge of the walkway, waiting with familiar expressions, were Alito and Kotori. “Finally!” Alito groaned, cracking his neck as he walked over. “What took you so long? Oh–hey Mizar? You on babysitting duty?”

The last part came with a cocky grin. Typical Alito but Mizar only raised one unimpressed eyebrow. He said nothing–though a faint twitch in his expression suggested something between annoyance and resignation. He'd grown used to Alito's loudness by now, but it still grated.

Yet, Yuma jumped to his own defense before Mizar could say a word, flailing dramatically in protest. “Hey! I don’t need a babysitter! Mizar’s here because we’re becoming awesome friends, and we’ve got each other’s backs—as equals!”

He turned and flashed Mizar a confident thumbs-up, proud and just a little too smug.

Mizar only blinked, caught slightly off guard by the gesture. For a second, he seemed unsure how to respond–then, stiffly, almost mechanically, he returned the thumbs-up. The motion was awkward, unfamiliar, like someone mimicking a ritual they didn’t quite understand. It was a little too rigid, a little too delayed. But it was there and the effort showed.

Alito froze, eyes wide. “Whoa. Did–did Mizar just return a thumbs-up?!”

Yuma beamed. “Heck yeah, he did!” His grin stretched wide with pride. “See?! This is how you Feel the Flow!”

Mizar tilted his head slightly, gaze flicking between the two of them. “...It is a symbol of agreement, yes?”

“Pretty much,” Yuma said. “But it can also mean a ton of other things–friendship, victory, and sometimes just to be cool.”

Mizar gave the smallest nod, as if filing the information away for future use. While, Kotori let out a soft breath, the corner of her mouth lifting into a warm smile. “Thank you, Mizar–for looking after Yuma. Whether he’s thirteen or eighteen, he always ends up in trouble.”

“Do not!” Yuma barked, puffing out his chest.

“Do too,” she shot back, smirking.

That old rhythm settled between them like muscle memory–banter, sarcasm, affection all wrapped into one. And for a brief moment, it was easy to forget the time that had passed. The fractures between them. The things left unspoken–just three friends, laughing again. Almost like nothing had changed at all.

Mizar shifted slightly, the moment hanging in the air just too long for his liking. “I will leave you with Alito and return to Barian World,” he said, already moving to open a portal with a flick of his hand.

“See ya later, Mizar!” Yuma called after him, waving with easy energy.

Mizar paused at the threshold, glancing back–not coldly, but curiously. After a short pause, he stiffly raised a hand in reply. “Goodbye, Yuma.”

Then he vanished, the portal closing behind him with a ripple of light. Yuma grinning smugly, arms folding behind his head. “Kite’s not gonna believe this one bit.”

Kotori raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re working on Mizar…to help Kite?”

“Ah—?!” Yuma flinched, caught mid-gloat. “Well…kind of! Maybe! But I made a friend out of it too!”

He gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, did you guys know, Mizar has a sweet tooth?”

Alito blinked. “Mizar? Wait, you mean laser-eyes, superiority-complex, Mizar?”

Yuma grinned wider. “Yep. I took him out for waffles.”

Alito stared. “Waffles?!”

“He was convinced they were some kind of Earth dessert,” Yuma said, laughing. “I tried to explain it was more like breakfast, but he refused to believe me.”

Kotori raised a brow, amused. “Let me guess–he said something along the lines of, ‘A dish this indulgent could not possibly serve a practical function at the start of one’s cycle.’”

“Pretty much!” Yuma grinned, pointing at her, practically glowing. “I swear, he would’ve ordered three more if Dumon’s Shadow hadn’t shown up and ruined breakfast.”

Alito looked like he was short-circuiting. “You’re telling me you got Mizar–the guy who barely looked at me unless it was to remind me I was beneath him…to eat waffles and have a conversation with you? Unreal.”

Yuma just chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, what can I say? I was really Feelin’ the Flow.”

“Anyway–you said you wanted to talk, right? Wanna do it over waffles?” Yuma offered, shifting gears as his stomach let out a loud growl.

Kotori raised an eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised you’re hungry? Have you even been taking care of yourself?” Her voice was stern, but the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth softened it.

“I have, Tori!” Yuma flailed his arms defensively. “But come on–Barian World doesn’t exactly have diners you can pull up to. And I already ate through all my snacks!”

“You didn’t prep anything for the morning?” She sighed, folding her arms. “Honestly, Yuma…it’s a miracle Ray’s even going to have you to come back to.”

Yuma winced. “Hey! I’ve been eating! He’s got nothing to worry about!”

Before Kotori could respond, Alito stepped between them with exaggerated calm. “Now, now, you two. Play nice.” Alito casually said, throwing an arm around Yuma’s shoulders. “But I am gonna take you up on that meal. Can’t say no to waffles–especially if you’re buying.”

Yuma huffed, but laughed. “Ahh yeah! That’s the spirit, Alito!”

“Gezz… You two are making me feel like the third wheel,” Kotori teased, giggling in amusement.

“Don’t worry, Tori! There’s gonna be enough waffles for everyone!” Yuma flailed, arms waving in protest.

Kotori just smiled softly. Alito finally letting go of Yuma to step back to her side and gently take her hand. “Well, Yuma,” he said with a grin. “Lead on.”

Yuma turned toward the front door, already unlocking it. “Hang on–just gotta drop my stuff off real quick.”

He slipped inside, tossing his blanket and pillow onto the couch in one practiced motion, dropping the overnight bag to the floor soon after. With little hesitation, he grabbed his familiar brown messenger bag from the hook by the door and slung it over his shoulder–making sure to tuck his Duel Gazer, deck, and Disk safely inside. “Alright! Follow me–those waffles won’t eat themselves!”

And with that, the trio headed off toward the café under the midday sun. Laughter trailing behind them like the remnants of an old rhythm slowly finding its way back as they made their way through the streets of Heartland City. The café wasn’t far, a modest, sunlit area coming into view with a wide window store front. The comforting scent of syrup and fresh coffee drifting out to greet them. A row of outdoor tables had been set out for the day, and the door stood propped open, welcoming them in.

Yuma’s eyes lit up the moment the smell of waffles reached his nose, a familiar excitement rising in him. “Hey, Ray, let’s take our usual—”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Automatic. Cheerful. Muscle memory shaped from days spent walking this very path with Ray. But this time, there was no response. Only silence. Yuma froze mid-step. His smile faltered as the realization hit, sharp and sudden. His hand reaching up instinctively, curling around the Baria Crystal that hung at his chest. The pain surging, unspoken but heavy, threatening to resurface everything he’d been trying so hard to carry. “...Right,” he murmured, eyes dropping to the pavement.

Kotori and Alito exchanged a glance. Kotori’s expression softening with concern, and she took half a step toward him, almost speaking–but Yuma cut in first, forcing a laugh and waving his hand like he could shake it off. “Heh. Guess I’m still waking up. C’mon, let’s grab a table.”

He moved quickly, slipping inside the café as if motion itself could shield him from the ache in his chest. But the weight didn’t leave. Inside the café was quiet, with just a handful of patrons scattered at tables. The clink of cutlery and soft hum of music filling the space–warm and familiar. Yuma led the way to a booth by the window, his and Ray’s usual spot–hesitating only briefly before sliding in on his usual side.

Kotori and Alito followed, settling across from him as a waitress came by to take their order. The three barely needed to glance at the menus Yuma rattling off his favorite waffle combo with extra syrup, Alito ordering something similar but with double fruit, and Kotori adding her own order with a small coffee on the side.

Yet, the moment the waitress stepped away, a hush lingered–quiet, but heavy. Not uncomfortable exactly. Just…tentative. Kotori’s gaze drifted to Yuma, watching him from across the table. This was the first time they’d really spoken since the breakup–not just passing words in an awkward encounter. A real conversation. And even now, seeing him sitting there trying so hard to be upbeat, all she could think was how tired he looked behind the smile. “Yuma,” she said softly, keeping her voice low. “How are you really doing?”

Yuma blinked, like he hadn’t expected the question. “Huh? I’m fine!” He laughed–awkward and too fast. “Better than fine, really!”

“You don’t have to pretend.” Her voice was calm but stern. “Just because Ray’s safe now…doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

Yuma’s fingers rested against the tabletop, then slowly slid toward the Baria Crystal, gripping it tightly. He didn’t speak, not right away. Across from him, Alito sat up straighter, glancing between them. He didn’t interrupt, but it was clear from the tension in his shoulders that he was listening–closely.

“I just…” Kotori began again, her tone gentler now, “I didn’t come today just to hang out. I wanted to check on you. Really check on you. Not just the usual ‘Yuma okay’ you give everyone.”

Yuma’s eyes lowered. His hand tightening around the Baria Crystal. “It’s hard,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it’d get easier after…But I don’t know. I just want things to go back to how they were.” He gave a short, broken laugh–the hurt clear behind his eyes. “...I know he’s alive, and I know that should be enough…but…”

Yuma’s voice trailed off. The weight of it hung in the quiet between them. Kotori slowly nodded, her expression softening with empathy. But she didn’t push further. She didn’t need to. She’d spent a long time trying to make sense of everything–trying not to feel like she’d lost something when they broke up. Sure, at first she mourned the future she once imagined with Yuma–the one where maybe they would’ve made it work. Where maybe he wouldn’t have flinched in guilt the night he whispered the wrong name. But that was before she saw the full picture.

Looking back on their younger years with clearer eyes, she started to notice what she hadn’t before: all the ways Yuma looked at Ray that were just…different. The kind of different you didn’t grow out of and the kind you didn’t fake. And while that night had changed everything–hearing Ray’s name in a moment of vulnerability, it wasn’t betrayal. It was just the truth, finally surfacing.

Letting go had hurt. But it hadn’t broken her. Because Yuma’s happiness still mattered. And when she saw how much Ray meant to him, how deep those feelings ran even when Yuma couldn’t name them himself–she knew she’d made the right call. And in letting go, she’d found her own happiness, too. Alito had been there when the ache was sharpest, offering his own warmth and one she had not expected to become so wrapped up in. He never once made her feel like she was in second place. So really…maybe it had been the best thing for both of them. There was no bitterness. No resentment. Just a quiet hope that Yuma would stop punishing himself–and let her be part of his life again. Just as a friend. Like she always had been.

“I know things got complicated between us,” Kotori said gently, casting a glance toward Alito, whose hand rested near hers–steady and grounding. Before, she looked back to Yuma. “But you’re still important to me. You always will be. I don’t want things to stay awkward–between any of us.”

“Same here,” Alito added, his grin small but sincere. “We want to be part of your life again, Yuma. Not just on the sidelines.”

“So stop beating yourself up,” Kotori said. Her hand gently reached out–not in romance, but in care. “Let’s just go back to being friends.”

Yuma looked down at their joined hands, Kotori’s gentle gesture grounding him more than he expected. The old ache in his chest flared again–but this time, it didn’t feel quite so suffocating and full of guilt. Not with them here. He let out a shaky breath. “…Thanks,” he said softly. “Both of you.”

He looked up, meeting their eyes in turn. “I was scared things were too broken to fix…that I’d messed up too badly. But hearing you say that…” He smiled, small but honest. “It means a lot.”

There was a pause as his gaze drifted toward the empty seat beside him–the space Ray should’ve been in. The familiar weight of absence settleing again in his chest. His other hand tightening slightly around the Baria Crystal. “I don’t know when things will feel normal again,” he admitted. “But… I want to get there. And I’m glad I don’t have to do it alone.”

He looked back at them, steadier now. “So yeah. Friends. I’d like that.”

Kotori’s smile deepened, and she gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Next time we come, let’s make it a double date–so Ray can join us.”

Chapter Text

The sun was already low in the sky when Yuma made it back to his neighborhood. The usual hum of life buzzing quietly around him–distant chatter, bikes passing by as the warm golden light caught the rooftops. Normal, comforting. Yet his heart raced as he reached home. Perhaps it was the lingering jitters from last night’s encounter with the Shadow of Alito, but Yuma managed to shake it off as he stepped through the front door, the familiar creak of the hinges greeting him like an old friend. The quiet of home wrapped around him instantly as Yuma took a breath, fingers tightening on the strap of his bag.

Yet, he barely had a moment more before a familiar voice called from the kitchen. “Look who’s finally come home,” Akari teased, stepping into the hallway with a sly grin. “You do know one of your other friends came by today, right? Don’t keep them waiting.”

Yuma blinked, confused. “What? Who?”

Akari’s smile grew wider, but she shook her head playfully. “Why don’t you just go see for yourself instead of keeping them waiting? Trust me on this one, little bro.”

Yuma frowned, curiosity prickling under his skin. With cautious steps, he made his way up the stairs towards his bedroom. His heartbeat quickening with every step, stronger than before, anticipation and uncertainty swirling together. Friends had been coming and going all week, checking on him after the Duel with the Shadow of Marin. So what could possibly make this visit different?

He stopped at the door, nerves pressing around him as a shaky hand reached for the doorknob. For a moment he hesitated, not fully understanding the nerves or why Akari had been so cryptic. His lips pursing into a frown as he twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Causing his whole world to instantly freeze. His messenger bag dropping to the floor as his red eyes locked onto the visitor.

Ray.

Without hesitation, Yuma rushed forward, emotions welling up as his arms threw themselves around Ray’s neck, sending them toppling onto Yuma’s bed as their lips met. Yuma’s eyes stung as fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. For a moment, Ray shifted beneath him, perhaps in shock. But as his purple eyes met Yuma’s face, his lips curved into a soft smile. A hand gently cupped Yuma’s face, wiping away the tears as Ray returned the kiss. As while unexpected, it was certainly not unwelcome.

Yuma’s weight pressed gently into Ray’s chest as their lips met again, deeper this time. Slower. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the overwhelming flood of feeling crashing down all at once. Yuma clinging to him, fingers threading through the familiar strands of Ray’s orange hair like he needed the contact to anchor himself, to prove this wasn’t some type of cruel dream.

Ray didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch. His hand stayed cupped against Yuma’s cheek, thumb brushing away the last of the tears, as his other arm slid around Yuma’s back, drawing him closer. As if to say: ‘I’m here. I came back.’

The kiss stretched on, soft and urgent all at once, drawn out like a lifeline. And Yuma didn’t want to let go. Couldn’t. Not when the fear still sat like a shadow in the corner of his heart, whispering that it could all vanish again. That Ray could be pulled away before they ever got the chance to say what needed to be said. And so he kissed him like it might be their first and last chance. Pouring every unsaid word into the motion, every moment of longing, guilt and hope that had built up over those endless days apart.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless–foreheads pressed together, chests rising and falling in sync. Yuma’s hands trembled slightly as they held Ray close, but his voice though quiet, didn’t waver.

“I love you.”

He said it like it was everything, because it was everything. And like it had been waiting inside him for years to finally be given the space to breathe. As that was also true...

There was no fanfare. Just the soft sound of their breathing, the last rays of the sunset curling golden across Yuma’s bedroom walls, and the weight of the truth finally now laid bare between them with no ambiguity. Yuma’s eyes searched Ray’s face, heart tightening in his chest, still terrified, for just a moment–that he might have said too much. That maybe he’d ruined it. But then, he saw it: that smile, small and shining. The one that had always made the world feel right again.

“I love you too, Yuma.”

Ray’s voice didn’t shake. It was quiet, but firm, like he needed to make sure Yuma heard him. Felt it. Understood. And then Ray’s hand moved again, pulling Yuma back into a kiss–deeper and without hesitation. It was warm, anchoring, and full of the same desperate relief. His way of assuring beyond words, that he too shared Yuma’s sentiments and feelings.

“I… I think I have for a long time,” Ray whispered, breath catching slightly as he focused his eyes on Yuma’s.

Yuma tilted his head, eyebrows drawing together. “Since…?”

Ray’s gaze didn’t waver. “Since the moment you refused to give up on me. When you said, ‘If that’s what it takes… I’ll stick by your side. Because helping a friend is the Ray Way.’”

Yuma’s breath caught, his chest tightening. “Since you chose me,” Ray went on, voice trembling now. “...Chose me over Astral, Kotori, your friends–and the whole world. You still said I mattered more. That letting Don Thousand win was okay, if you could have ‘Ray’ back.”

There was a pause and a breath before Ray continued. “That’s why I let go.”

Yuma’s heart lurched. “Ray…”

“I knew how Kotori felt about you,” Ray continued, the words spilling out now–honest, raw. “She never did what I did. She would protect and cherish you. Never hurt you like I did. She’d never lie. Never betray your trust.”

His voice cracked. “How could I compete with that…?” He whispered. “After everything, I just… I wanted you to be happy. You were my one true friend, the boy I loved and the man I still do. But I thought…if I stayed, I’d only weigh you down. I didn’t want to burden you with my shadow. I wanted you to live.”

Yuma’s hand tightened where it rested against Ray’s chest. “Ray, I couldn’t!”

Ray shook his head, tears now slipping freely down his cheeks. “I know that now. I do. But back then… I thought I’d missed my chance. That maybe the moment passed, and I was just too late. I saw you with her and tried to convince myself it was right. That I didn’t deserve you, not after everything I did. That you were better off…that this was for the best.”

He looked away, voice growing hoarse. “But even when I tried to bury it, the hope never died. That maybe, somehow, one day…you’d look at me that way.”

There was a silence, thick and electric. Then Yuma’s voice came low, broken. “Ray…”

He cupped Ray’s cheek gently, brushing away the tears with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have let you suffer alone for so long.”

Ray blinked at him. “Yuma–being beside you, even just as your friend…it was never suffering.”

“But I felt the same. For so long.” Yuma’s voice cracked now too. “I just…didn’t know what it was. I didn’t understand my feelings. Everyone else seemed to–but me? I was so scared of losing what we already had, I didn’t even realize how badly I wanted something more.”

Ray’s hand shifted gently, his fingers brushing against his Baria Crystal hanging around Yuma’s neck. His touch lingering there–light, reverent, like it meant everything. Because it did. “You’ll never lose me,” Ray said softly. “My heart belongs to you. And only you, Yuma.”

Yuma drew in a shaky breath, his eyes stinging again as he leaned a little closer–seeking warmth, reassurance, something solid to hold on to. “I just… I wish I hadn’t taken five years to figure it out… I wish it hadn’t taken almost losing you to finally tell you how I feel…”

Ray smiled through his tears, small and radiant. “Then we’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

Yuma slowly leaned down, their foreheads gently touching as one of his hands rested beside Ray’s head, fingers brushing through his hair. The other staying firm at Ray’s waist, grounding them both. The closeness wasn’t new–Ray had always been in his heart but this, this, was the first time it felt fully theirs. No more pretending. No more silence between what they truly felt. “I still can’t believe you’re here,” Yuma whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “That you’re really mine. Please, I don’t want this to be a dream…”

Ray smiled, his hands slipping around Yuma’s waist, holding him like he never wanted to let go. “Then don’t let it be,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

Their lips met again, slower now. Not desperate, but aching with everything they hadn’t said for five years. Their bodies curling instinctively into each other’s warmth, their movements gentle, their touches tentative, testing what this closeness meant in this new context. The kiss deepening as Ray sighed quietly into it, Yuma’s hand threading into his hair as if grounding himself in the reality of Ray's presence.

When they finally pulled apart, just enough to breathe, Yuma’s eyes searched Ray’s face, trembling with emotion. His voice coming quiet, but clear: “...Ray,” he breathed, almost like a prayer. “Will you…will you please give yourself to me?”

The question hung in the quiet space between them, tender and trembling. There was no pressure behind it. Only honesty. Only hope. Yuma was offering his whole heart and asking, not assuming, if Ray was ready to meet him there. Ray’s breath caught. His lips parted, stunned not by the words, but by how much tenderness was in them. He reached up, his thumb brushing along Yuma’s cheek. “You don’t even have to ask,” he said, voice thick with emotion as his other hand moved to rest over the Baria Crystal lightly pressing it to Yuma’s heart. “I’m yours, Yuma. All of me. I’ve always been.”

The air shifted around them–not with urgency, but with a deep warmth. A mutual understanding. No more waiting and no more missed chances. Ray’s fingers slipped gently into the back of Yuma’s shirt, guiding him closer. “Just…be gentle with me,” he whispered, his cheeks flushed, but his gaze steady. “This is my first time…But I want it to be with you. Only you.”

Yuma’s heart ached with love. Not pity, not hesitation just the weight of how much this mattered. He nodded, brushing a thumb over Ray’s cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

He kissed him again, slower now. More deliberate. Not out of passion alone, but something deeper–devotion. A kind of love that came with choosing each other again and again. Yuma wasn’t fumbling or unsure. He knew what Ray needed, and more than that–he wanted to give it.

***

Yuma’s fingers laced gently with Ray’s as he leaned back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Tell me if anything feels wrong. Or too fast. Okay?” he said softly, his voice like a promise.

Ray nodded, eyes shining. “I will.”

The room seemed to still around them, their breaths syncing, the faint glow of the sunset painting them in amber light. Yuma let his hands move slowly, reverently–memorizing the planes of Ray’s face with his fingertips, then trailing down his sides as if reaffirming that this moment was real, that they were finally here, together.

Clothes were shed not in haste, but with quiet understanding–each layer a step closer to trust, to truth. Yuma moved with care, always watching Ray’s expression, always making sure. And Ray, in turn, responded with a softness that only deepened the ache in Yuma’s chest, the kind of vulnerability that said ‘I trust you. I’m yours.’

Ray’s hands trembled slightly as they touched Yuma’s chest–not from fear, but from the overwhelming feeling of being seen, chosen and loved. “I still can’t believe you want me…” Ray whispered, voice cracking just a little.

Yuma settled over him again, their foreheads touching, breaths mingling, and everything else fell away–until it was only them. “...I always will,” Yuma murmured, pressing a kiss to Ray’s temple. “Not just tonight…forever.”

Ray closed his eyes, his hand tightening in Yuma’s as if grounding himself to that truth. There was no more need for words–not right away. Just the quiet, sacred closeness of two hearts rediscovering each other, for the first time in full. Each moment was an echo in time, engraved forever as something they could share.

They settled to lie beside one another, limbs naturally intertwining as their fingers began to explore the soft, familiar terrain of skin beneath their touch. Slow and deliberate, their hands traced the gentle curves and planes–memorizing every line, every slight shiver that followed a tender caress.

Their breaths mingling in the quiet room, a soft harmony that spoke louder than words. Each inhale and exhale was a promise; a silent vow that nothing would be rushed or forced. Between their shared glances–soft, seeking, full of unspoken permission came gentle kisses, tender and lingering, as if trying to capture the weight of all the years they’d lost.

Yuma’s touch was reverent, careful not to rush, but filled with an aching desire to show Ray just how much he was cherished, how deeply he was loved. And Ray, who had once doubted he deserved such devotion, now responded with a quiet strength, opening himself fully to the moment–trusting, vulnerable, and utterly his.

The world outside fell away, leaving only the warmth of skin on skin, the steady beating of two hearts finally aligning. Yuma focused tentatively on Ray, preparing him gently for what was to come. Each soft gasp and sigh from Ray filling Yuma with quiet delight as he nuzzled into Ray’s neck, planting tender, affectionate kisses along the way. Ray’s breaths growing sharper, a subtle restlessness stirring beneath him as he squirmed softly against the sheets. A half-desperate gasp escapeing his lips before he broke the silence with a plea. “...Yuma…please, let me…help you too…!”

Their eyes locked in a moment of pure understanding. Yuma smiling softly in return, the unspoken promise clear between them. Ray’s cheeks remained flushed from Yuma’s prior touches, the warmth lingering despite the quiet of the room. He carefully moved, Yuma’s red eyes staying fixed on him and him alone. Their lips meeting briefly before Ray trailed kisses along Yuma’s form, each movement a silent question and reassurance. Beneath him, Yuma shifted with soft motions, offering encouragement and care in letting Ray know exactly where to focus.

Yet, Yuma did not remain passive with this guidance alone, his fingers gently massaging the tension from Ray’s shoulders, soothing away every lingering worry. And with a soft touch, his other hand threading through Ray’s hair, as he cradled his head in place. Sharp excited gasp escaping his breath as he felt the warmth of Ray’s mouth around him. The soft flick of his tongue along his length or the gentle movement as he sucked, sending electricity coursing through Yuma’s form. His back arching in response as he couldn’t help but push deeper. “Ray…”

His moans were soft, but laced with ecstasy. Each one a small victory within Ray’s mind as he tested and tasted Yuma, trying to better understand and explore his partner. As well as seeking ways to exploit more of a reaction. His head in time, falling into a silent rhythm as it bobbed up and down Yuma’s shaft. Feeling each shift as Yuma tensed from the worry of pushing to far, but also the moments when his body seemed to melt away at Ray’s touch–and Ray did his best to accommodate and adjust for Yuma needs.

Perhaps out of some silent duty, as Ray understood that Yuma would take the lead when the time came, but for now, he quietly yearned to play his part–to give back in this shared moment, however he could. And this was his way of doing so.

Beneath him, Yuma squirmed in delight, trying his best to be mindful of his movements. His fingers tightening gently around Ray’s shoulder as a sharp gasp escaped him, the sensation almost overwhelming. He knew that if Ray kept going like this, there might be little he could offer in return–and Yuma wouldn’t forgive himself if that happened. After all, he had asked Ray to give himself completely to him, and now it was Yuma’s turn to fulfill that promise.

“...Ray, thank you…” he breathed his voice low while his eyes remained full of warmth–his smile impossibly gentle. “Let me handle the rest.”

Ray obliged, slowly pulling away to sit back as he wiped his mouth. Yuma carefully reaching out, his fingers brushing gently against Ray’s. His hands were steady, but the look in his eyes held something soft–reverence, affection, and a quiet promise. A gentle smile curved his lips. “Shall we…?” he asked, voice low and inviting.

Ray hesitated only for a moment–not because he didn’t want this, but because it still felt unreal, like a dream he might wake from. But slowly, he focused, grounding himself in Yuma’s presence. Slipping his hands into Yuma’s and letting himself be guided. Yuma gave a reassuring squeeze before gently coaxing him down. The bed giving the faintest creak as Ray settled back, Yuma’s hands never leaving his until they needed to adjust for Ray’s comfort. And with that same care, Yuma eased a pillow behind Ray’s head before brushing his fingers through his hair, lingering with a tenderness that made Ray’s breath hitch.

Every motion was deliberate, not rushed, not hesitant–just full of devotion. And once Yuma was sure Ray was comfortable, he climbed over him slowly, leaning in for a tender kiss. “I’ll be with you the entire time,” he whispered, his forehead resting lightly against Ray’s.

Yuma’s fingers laced gently with Ray’s. The moment felt suspended in time–slow, safe, and infinitely tender. Ray’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding loud enough to echo in his ears. But it wasn’t fear–it was happiness. Never in his wildest daydreams had he imagined this could be real. That he’d be this close to Yuma, to a moment like this. It felt like the world might steal it away at any second.

But there was only silence. Only warmth. And Yuma’s red eyes watching him with that same softness Ray had always yearned for. “...Yuma, I…” Ray began, but the words caught.

“We don’t have to rush,” Yuma said gently, already starting to pull back a little. “If you’re not sure—”

“No…!” Ray interrupted quickly, reaching to stop him. “It’s not that. I just–this is real, right? I’m not still dreaming back in Barian World…?”

Yuma’s expression softened into something bittersweet. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he admitted. “But I want to believe this is real. That this is our moment. So... will you share it with me?”

Ray didn’t hesitate this time. His voice was soft, but sure. “Yes. I want this. I want YOU.”

Ray let his hands drift along Yuma’s back, drawing him closer with quiet urgency. “...Don’t hold back. No more missed chances,” he whispered.

Yuma’s breath caught–not in hesitation, but in how deeply Ray wanted to share in this moment. He braced himself against the sheets, grounding them both as he leaned in. Their lips meeting again, the kiss deepening and becoming needier with every heartbeat. Yet, still threaded with that softness only love could give. And carefully Yuma positioned himself into place, his red eyes remaining intently on Ray as he cautiously proceeded to push into him.

Ray’s fingers had found their way to Yuma’s wrist, curling around it as if to ground himself. Yuma moving with slow, precise care, his red eyes fixed on Ray’s expression–watching closely for any sudden shifts, or any flicker of discomfort. Each time Ray’s grip tightened, Yuma adjusted without hesitation, always trying to ease the movement, to make it just a little gentler.

Pausing only as he sank into place, allowing Ray a few moments to process and for his body to ease into this new warmth within him. Yuma leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against Ray’s once more, his voice a tender murmur. “You’re safe with me. I’ll always slow down if you need me to.” He assured, brushing a fingertip under Ray’s chin, lifting his gaze to meet Yuma’s own. “Just let me know...”

Ray’s eyes softened as they met Yuma’s–full of emotion, but not pain, not fear. The touch, the moment, the words–it was everything he had never let himself believe he could have. But it was real. “I know,” Ray whispered, his voice steady despite the slight tremble in his breath. “And I trust you, completely.”

He drew in a breath, something tender and bold shining in his gaze. “So don’t hold back, okay?” His thumb brushed gently over Yuma’s hand. “I want all of you. And I want you to feel this too. To enjoy it.”

There was a flicker of vulnerability as he continued, “You’ve carried so much. Given so much of yourself to everyone else…even now, you’re still holding back, worrying about me. But Yuma…it’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m here…and this moment is as much about me as it is you.”

Yuma’s breath caught as the words settled deep in his chest. His heartbeat thundered–not from nerves, but from the warmth of being truly seen. Truly loved. “Ray…” he breathed. “Thank you.”

For a moment longer, Yuma let his forehead rest against Ray’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. The anticipation was palpable–steady, warm, and never rushed. Yuma could feel it: Ray’s trust, his love and it grounded him. With a slow breath, he steadied the quiet flutter of nerves in his chest. Then, with renewed resolve, a soft, loving smile broke across his face.

His fingers curled slightly into the sheets as he began to move, a gentle rocking motion guided by care. His gaze never leaving Ray, watching every shift and expression. The nerves hadn’t vanished entirely, but the way Ray arched into his touch, seeking more, told him everything he needed to know. Their soft moans now dancing in the air.

The warmth between them only growing like a rising flame–gentle, encompassing, and real. Yuma’s heart pounded in rhythm with Ray’s breath against his skin. Every motion was a whisper of devotion; every glance, a vow unspoken. They moved together without haste, bound not by desire alone but by reverence–piecing together the broken parts they had carried for so long. And in this moment, finally, they were whole.

Ray’s fingers found their way to Yuma’s shoulder–holding him not to restrain, but to stay connected, anchoring himself to this moment. Yuma responded with a slow kiss, lips brushing softly against Ray’s cheek, then his jaw, affectionate in every touch. “You’re amazing,” Yuma whispered, the words spoken like truth rather than flattery. “Every part of you.”

Ray’s eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the gentleness in Yuma’s voice. He could feel it in every movement–how careful and loving Yuma was with him. And he could never have imagined things like this. Not really. He’d dreamed, once or twice–quiet, impossible dreams he never let himself linger on, knowing the impossibility of it all. And he’d told himself it wasn’t meant for him. That Yuma could never love him. That a love like this–soft, open, unwavering belonged to someone who hadn’t made mistakes. Someone who hadn’t hurt others and someone who hadn’t once become a monster.

But now, with Yuma here–his touch, his voice, the way his hand and lips moved with such quiet devotion across Ray’s skin–those old beliefs began to unravel. It was real. This warmth, the closeness and especially the love.

Yuma’s love.

Slowly, Ray opened his eyes again, reaching out to brush his hand along Yuma’s side in quiet encouragement. “Yuma…Don’t stop,” he whispered through soft moans. “Please…don’t stop.”

Yuma’s only answer was a deepening kiss, as he pushed deeper into Ray. Keeping his movements steady and loving. One hand staying firmly planted, gripping the bed for balance, while the other traced gentle lines along Ray’s skin. His fingers not shying away from their quiet exploration. As their bodies moved together like a melody only they were meant to hear–soft, intimate, and deeply attuned to each other. Both of them clinging to the moment, longing for it to last forever.

But even they had their limits, and once those limits were spent, the world felt quiet afterward–as if the universe itself had gone still to honor what had just passed between them.

***

Yuma remained close, one arm wrapped protectively around Ray’s waist, the other brushing through his hair with slow, rhythmic care. Their breaths had begun to steady, their bodies pressed together beneath the hush of night. Having fully set in outside–but here, in this small sanctuary of warmth and light, time felt irrelevant.

Ray’s head rested against Yuma’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, eyes half-lidded but glowing with something brighter than peace. Love. Real and undoubted, now lived between them. “I didn’t think anything could feel this right,” Ray whispered, the words barely audible in the hush between heartbeats.

Yuma tightened his hold just slightly, pressing a kiss to Ray’s temple. “Me neither,” he said softly. “But it does. Because it’s with you.”

A few quiet moments passed, and then Yuma spoke again, more gently still. “Thank you…for trusting me. For loving me. I promise I’ll never take it for granted.”

Ray’s fingers curled lightly into the fabric at Yuma’s side. “You never could,” he said. “...You’ve given me a future I never thought was possible. With the one person I’ve wanted for so long. I don’t deserve this–”

“You do, Ray…” Yuma murmured, guiding Ray’s chin up with tender fingers until their lips met. “...You belong with me.”

The weight of those words hung between them–heavier than sorrow, but far more beautiful, as they melted into one another’s arms. One last kiss exchanged, warm and lingering, before they settled into the quiet embrace of the night. Simply holding each other. And for the first time in years, they knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Together.

Chapter Text

Darkness. Complete, silent and endless.

And yet from it came, a faint glow. Soft and slow, like a breath returning to still lungs. A shimmer of golden dust now rising from the void, drifting like stars unmoored from the night sky. The nothingness giving away to a narrow path–quiet, pulsing and lined with particles that sparkled under an unseen light.

Yuma stood at its edge. The space feeling both foreign and familiar, like a half-remembered dream from another lifetime. And yet, he knew this path. Or had known one like it. As five years ago, he had walked toward the Door of Destiny–and beyond it, found Astral.

But this was not then…

Still, he found himself stepping forward. The path welcoming him, the silence pressing close but never cold. Each footfall echoing without sound, drawing him onward until, at last, the Door emerged from the haze. Chained, silent and vast.

Yet different.

The once demonic door lay bare this time–without a face, without indent. Instead shimmering in living crimson and gold, its surface rippling like light across water. Symbols tracing themselves across its blank surface. While patterns remained still in flux, as if the power within had not yet fully taken form.

Yuma’s red eyes lingered in observation, their concentration broken as a voice spoke. “Once more you stand before a precipice. The path you once walked has changed–as have you. The bond you shared has faded into memory–yet, a new power stirs behind this gate.”

The voice echoed through the dream space, deep and resonant–not familiar. But not hostile, either. “Not born of the past you knew, nor the friendship that once held you fast. But from a flame kindled anew–deeper, more potent.”

The shifting symbols brightened as the chains shimmered, humming like wires pulled taut. “Do you have what it takes to claim this–even knowing with such a reward, comes great risk…have you the courage to unlock this power…?”

Yuma’s throat tightened as he forced a breath. Partially hesitating as his mind processed the Door’s words. The stakes of the battles already felt impossibly high with the threat of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors and if there was something else looming on the horizon… If this power could tip the balance… Yuma didn’t hesitate as he reached out.

Nothing.

The door remained still beneath his fingers. No indent. No lock. No keyhole. No answer. Just that constant pulse, waiting. “I’m ready!” Yuma said. “Just–tell me how to open it!”

Silence.

And then the doubt emerged. Creeping in like fog. ‘What if I'm not enough? What if I can't protect them? What if I lose Ray forever this time…?’

His hand moved to his chest. His fingers finding the Baria Crystal–warm against his skin and pulsing with faint energy. Ray’s crystal. Ray’s gift. The one he’d sworn to protect.

The moment his fingers clasped around it–

Snap.

The first chain broke. Light flaring across the surface of the Door as the symbols bloomed wide. More chains bursting in sequence, breaking like old restraints, dissolving into motes of red-gold stardust. Yuma gasped, stumbling back as the Door groaned open–just enough for light to pour through, radiant and beckoning. The light surging as Yuma raised his hand against the glow—

And jolted awake.

Yuma’s eyes flew open to a ceiling he didn’t recognize–or rather, one he hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the familiar sloped roof of the attic. There was also no creak from the rope. Nor was there the slow sway of a hammock threatening to drop him to the floor. There wasn’t even the dusty morning light filtering through the old window. Instead, he was greeted by soft linens, warm sheets, and a familiar scent. This was his room. His bed.

And then–warmth.

Not from the sunlight, but from the steady, unmistakable weight pressed up against him. For a moment, his heart stalled. The ache that had been lodged in his chest for days—no, nearly two weeks was threatening to return. Maybe he was still dreaming. Maybe yesterday hadn’t been real. Maybe he was still alone, just desperate enough to believe otherwise. But then why was he here, in his own bed? Why–

His thoughts froze as he felt it–fingertips brushing lightly against his bare chest, right where the Baria Crystal hung. Yuma turned his head instantly and saw him.

Ray.

Curled close beneath the covers, one arm draped over Yuma’s waist. His expression soft in sleep. His breath slow and steady. Peaceful. Real. Yuma could barely breathe. His emotions surged all at once, tears pricking his eyes. ‘He’s here. He’s really here.’

The attic–those long, aching nights of waiting, of guilt, of missing–felt like a different lifetime. And yet a part of him still flinched, still braced for the fall. Still waited to wake up on that hammock to nothing but silence. But not this time.

Yuma exhaled shakily and drew Ray closer, resting his forehead gently to his. His fingers tracing slow, reverent lines along Ray’s bare back, while the other hand lifted to cradle his face. His thumb stroking lightly across warm skin–grounding himself with the truth right there beneath his fingertips.

He could feel Ray’s breath against his chest. See the soft rise and fall of his body. Feel the warmth of his skin soaking into his own. This was real. Last night hadn’t been a fever dream brought on by grief. Ray had come back to him. Ray was his. And their moment last night had been real.

Finally… The nightmare was over.

Yuma let his eyes close for just a moment, letting the warmth around him sink into his bones. Reminding himself once more it wasn’t a dream, that this was real. And then, beneath his hand, Ray stirred. A soft inhale. Fingers twitching lightly against Yuma’s chest. Then slowly, sleep-heavy eyes blinked open–purple meeting crimson, hazy and warm. Ray blinked again, his gaze adjusting, focusing and the moment he truly saw Yuma, something in his expression softened entirely. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms curling around Yuma with a quiet urgency. Pressing a slow kiss over Yuma’s heart before resting his cheek against it, breathing him in. “Good…” Ray murmured, his voice raw and low, barely able a whisper. “I didn’t dream that part.”

The words hit something deep in Yuma’s chest, and he didn’t hesitate. He drew Ray closer, tilting his chin to meet him in a kiss–slow, gentle and lingering. Ray blinked in surprise, but his body melted into it, lips parting in soft understanding as the kiss deepened with feeling but never urgency. Just warmth. Just trust. Only when they parted did Yuma smile and whispered, “I love you, Ray.”

Maybe it didn’t need to be said again–not so soon, not after last night. But Yuma didn’t care. He needed Ray to hear it, to feel it in every breath. Last night hadn’t been a single spark, it was the beginning of something enduring. A promise. And he wouldn’t let Ray question his place again. Wouldn’t leave space for doubt, or distance, or silence.

Not ever again.

Ray didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let the words settle, slow and steady–curling deeper into the warmth beneath him. His fingers pressing lightly against Yuma’s side, grounding himself in the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. His eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment, letting the silence hold them both. And only when he was sure, truly sure–that Yuma wouldn’t vanish, that this moment wouldn’t slip through his fingers like a fading dream, did he lift his head.

His gaze met Yuma’s, soft and wide with something like awe–like he still couldn’t quite believe this was real. That Yuma was real. That after everything… Yuma had chosen him. Or that Yuma belonged to him. “I love you too,” Ray said at last, voice low and a little raw, violet eyes glowing with quiet affection.

He lifted a hand, fingers threading slowly through Yuma’s long hair–each motion tender, as if committing it to memory. His thumb tracing lightly along Yuma’s cheek, pausing near the corner of his mouth–a small, tired smile ghosting across his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” Ray murmured, barely louder than a breath. His eyes roaming Yuma’s face like he was trying to take in every detail–the way his lashes curled, the faint flush on his cheeks, the softness in his eyes.

Yuma blinked at that, caught off guard—not by the words, but by the way Ray said them. Like it wasn’t just admiration, but quiet awe. And maybe that was why Yuma leaned in. Slow, unhurried. His hand slid up to Ray’s jaw, thumb brushing over soft skin, and he pressed their lips together once more–warm, and lingering without urgency. Just love, plain and honest.

When they parted, Ray’s eyes were half-lidded, hazy with emotion. But even as he smiled, something flickered behind his gaze. A shadow of hesitation–of need. “...Could you say it again?” He began, almost sheepishly. “Please. Just one more time...”

Yuma’s breath caught but he didn’t tease, nor did he hesitate. He brought his forehead to Ray’s, holding him close enough that their breaths mingled. “I love you,” Yuma whispered. “More than anything.”

Ray exhaled, and it was like something loosened inside him. He buried his face against Yuma’s shoulder, his fingers curling against his side again. Holding, not clutching. Feeling grounded now and safe.

A quiet silence fell between them, Yuma electing just to wrap his arms tighter around Ray, drawing him in with a gentle strength. The warmth between them, the way Ray molded so naturally into his arms–it was everything he’d longed for. Everything he never wanted to let go of again. “We can stay like this,” Yuma murmured, voice low and steady. “As long as you need.”

He felt Ray smile against his skin. A quiet huff of breath, soft and teasing. “Don’t tempt me,” Ray whispered. “...Or I might never let you go.”

Yuma chuckled quietly. “Good,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you to.”

For a few long moments, there was only the stillness–their shared heartbeat, the rise and fall of soft breaths. Like the world outside didn’t matter. Like it could wait. Ray’s eyes fluttered shut again, his fingers drawing slow, aimless patterns along Yuma’s form, lulled by the warmth and the safety of it all. For a second, it felt like maybe, just maybe they might drift back into sleep, wrapped around each other for comfort.

Then—a soft knock at the door.

“Yuma?” Akari’s voice came through, low and hesitant. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, but…it’s almost ten. If you’re planning to make it to class, you’ve got maybe thirty minutes. And while you might not care–don’t forget Ray’s missed an entire week. So try not to jeopardize his GPA.”

Yuma blinked, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him. For a half-second, he considered ignoring her and just pulling Ray closer–all the while pretending the world outside didn’t exist. But Ray was already stirring. “She’s got a point…” Ray murmured against Yuma’s skin, voice soft. He pressed a soft kiss to Yuma’s collarbone before gently easing back.

Yuma let out a sigh, arms loosening with great reluctance. “Right…real life.”

But he didn’t let Ray get far. His hand caught Ray’s, fingers curling around them as their eyes met. Just for a moment. The morning light painted Ray’s skin, softening his still-sleepy features, and Yuma couldn’t help but reach up–his other hand rising to cradle Ray’s cheek, pulling him in for one more kiss. Unhurried, warm and full of affection.

Ray smiled faintly against his lips, eyes fluttering shut, and when they finally parted, his forehead rested against Yuma’s for a soft moment before he pulled away. They rose together from the bed, bare feet touching cool floorboards, the lingering warmth of the sheets still clinging to their skin.

Ray moved first, reaching for the clothes folded neatly on the nearby chair. But Yuma stayed where he was–just watching. Even now, with the distance between them finally gone, something fluttered in Yuma’s chest. It hadn’t fully settled yet, this feeling. Whether it was the quiet disbelief that Ray was truly back, or the deeper truth that they now belonged to each other in a way they never had before. And maybe it was silly, maybe even a little selfish–but Yuma couldn’t stop letting his eyes roam. Trying to memorize every small detail: the way Ray’s shoulder blades shifted as he moved, the soft curve of his spine, the line of his neck catching the morning light. It felt like something sacred. Something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have.

Then Ray turned, catching him in the act. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You can’t go to school looking like that, Yuma.”

Yuma blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you just woke up from a dream you haven’t quite left yet,” Ray said, stepping in with a shirt in hand. “Let me help you–arms up.”

Yuma obeyed without a word. Letting Ray guide the shirt over his head, and Ray’s fingers worked gently, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders and chest. It was such a simple thing–mundane, even but in that moment, it felt intimate. Personal. Like this kind of tenderness had weight now. Like helping each other get dressed was its own kind of closeness. And all the while Yuma’s red eyes never left him. “You’re staring,” Ray teased, but his voice was soft, pleased. That same quiet smile still playing on his lips—genuine, not mocking.

“I know,” Yuma murmured, flushing but unashamed. “I just… I missed this. Missed you. I know this is all still new, but getting to see you like this–up close, without fear…it means everything to me.”

Ray’s expression faltered just enough to show how deeply that landed. The warmth in his violet eyes turning softer, more vulnerable, as a faint pink rose in his cheeks. “I missed you too,” he said quietly. “And I’m happy, Yuma. Really happy we can share moments like this now…”

Yuma nodded, his heart full in his chest. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He just kept looking at Ray, and Ray let him–unapologetically basking in the way Yuma’s gaze lingered like he was something cherished. In time they finished dressing and readying themselves for the day. Easing into the new routine, hands brushing here and there or the occasional exchange of glances that held far more weight than words ever could. But now set to face the day, they gathered their bags and began to move out of Yuma’s room.

Yet as they stepped toward the door, Yuma’s hand found Ray’s again. A soft squeeze, quiet and grounding. Ray smiled as their fingers threaded together without a word, and the two of them made their way down the stairs to the front entryway.

“Good morning, Yuma—and to you as well, Ray.”

Yuma nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. His red eyes darting to the doorway, where both his grandmother and Akari were already standing–waiting, clearly. “G-Grandma?!”

Ray, unfazed, simply smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Tsukumo~”

Akari raised an eyebrow, arms folded, the corners of her mouth tugging into a sly grin. “Don’t look so shocked, little bro. We do live here, you know.”

She took a moment to reach for something before holding out two wrapped bento boxes. “Here. And Ray? Try to make sure he doesn’t eat his before his first class even starts.”

Ray took them graciously with a short bow. “Thank you. And don’t worry I’ll make sure Yuma has food for later.”

Haru stepped forward with her usual gentle grace, her eyes warm. “It’s so nice to have you back, Ray,” she said softly. “Thank you for staying over. And for being so kind to our Yuma.”

Ray returned the sentiment with a soft smile of his own. “Thank you for welcoming me. And thank you for the lunch.”

“You’re such a sweet boy,” Haru added, before giving him a knowing little nod. “It’s lovely to have you joining the family.”

Yuma froze. And then: “W-Wait–how do you know we’re dating?!”

Akari rolled her eyes. “Please. Subtly has never been your thing, little bro.”

“What–!?”

“Save the panic for after class,” Akair said, already walking off. “And don’t be late.”

“Right–school!” Yuma fumbled with his bag, taking his bento from Ray before stuffing it into place, and throwing on his shoes all in one graceless motion. “Thanks, Grandma! See you later, Akari!”

He offered a quick bow before practically pulling Ray through the door, mid-thank-you.

Ray laughed lightly as Yuma dragged him down the walkway. “Yuma, you know I can just portal us there. There’s no need to rush.”

Yuma slowed, glancing over at him–and for a second, the flustered panic fading into something softer. “I know,” he said quietly. “But even if I’m a few minutes late… I want the extra time with you.”

The words hit Ray like a gentle wave, catching him off guard. His steps slowed and a quiet smile spread across his face as he squeezed Yuma’s hand in return. “I’d like that too.”

Chapter Text

The late morning sun filtered softly through the broad leaves overhead, dotting the worn wooden bench where Yuma and Ray sat side by side. The campus was alive with the distant murmur of students and the faint rustle of the soft breeze passing through the leaves and grass. But here, beneath the tree situated behind the bench, the world seemed to quiet just for them.

Yuma peeled back the paper wrapping around his lunch box and smiled softly at the familiar contents. The neat rows of the Tsukumo family’s signature rice balls–Duel Fuel, carefully arranged, and a little note tucked inside–they were unmistakable signs of his grandmother’s handiwork. Beside him, Ray unpacked his own box, his purple eyes lighting up at the thoughtfulness evident in the same small details. “You know,” Ray said, breaking the silence, “Your grandmother really knows how to pack a lunch… I hope I can learn from her and make the things you enjoy.”

Yuma glanced at him, a soft warmth spreading in his chest. “You don’t have to be perfect at it. If you want to do it…just the fact that it comes from you means everything.”

Ray’s fingers found Yuma’s hand, squeezing it gently. His cheeks flushing as he spoke a little shyly. “I want to. Now that we’re…you know, together–I want to be someone who looks out for you. Like she does.”

The corner of Yuma’s lips lifted into a small, shy smile of his own. “I’d really like that.”

They exchanged soft smiles and ate slowly together, savoring not just the food but the quiet comfort of the shared space. Taking time to tidy up when they’d finished before Ray shifted, resting his head gently against Yuma’s shoulder. The warmth spreading deeper than the afternoon sun.

Yuma carefully adjusted on the bench so Ray could lay against him, slipping both his arms around him. Ray relaxing easily into place, the comfort settling over him as he closed his eyes. The two content to fade into a moment that was solely their own. At least until a sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“YUMA!”

A desperate cry from Bronk’s familiar voice shattered the quiet as he practically barreled toward them. “There you are!–Whoa!?”

His eyes widened the moment they landed on Ray curled up against Yuma. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon, Ray–so you and Yuma…?”

Yuma blinked, pulling back just enough to sit up straighter, cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink. Ray cracked one eye open, smirking lazily. Bronk only responded by scratching the back of his head, his usual bravado slipping away, replaced by something more vulnerable and unsure. “I guess I should’ve figured you guys would be a thing by now…but damn, I’m just glad you’re here, Ray. Yuma’s been…well, you know.”

Ray’s gaze softened, but a flicker of concern lingered behind it as he tilted his head back to look at Yuma. His hand finding one of Yuma’s, holding it gently as Yuma held him and offering a light squeeze–just in case any lingering pain from their time apart remained.

Yuma paused, meeting Ray’s gaze. Appreciation shining in his eyes, and instinctively, he tightened his grip around Ray’s form, as if to anchor himself to the truth that Ray was finally back for good.

Bronk shifted awkwardly, clearly feeling like a third wheel in this quiet, intimate moment. He took a deep breath, battling hesitation before finally speaking. “Yuma…it’s bad. You know, I’d been building up the courage to ask Rio out. Well…I finally did—but… but…”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “She told me she’s been seeing Quattro.”

Yuma’s jaw dropped. “Wait–come again?! Rio’s dating Quattro?!” He blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

Bronk nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like the words still stung. “Yeah. I finally worked up the guts to ask her out, right? And she just goes, ‘Sorry, I’m seeing someone already’–and then she drops Quattro’s name like it’s nothing!”

Yuma shifted slightly, continuing to hold Ray close as he tried to wrap his head around it. “And Shark’s okay with this?!” He asked, stunned. “He’s always been over protective of Rio! Even if Quattro wasn’t totally at fault for what happened five years ago, I never thought Shark would let him anywhere near her again–let alone date her!”

Ray tilted his head from where he rested in Yuma’s arms, looking up thoughtfully. “But that’s just it, Yuma. It’s been five years… Maybe Quattro worked to earn that trust back. They might bicker, but there’s respect there. Rivalry doesn’t mean hostility.”

Yuma hesitated at that, mulling it over. Ray had a point. Shark's relationship with Quattro may have been uncertain, but maybe this was like his own situation with Ray–where trust was hard-earned but still possible. And in this case, Shark might’ve accepted it for Rio’s sake. But before he could say anything more, the soft rhythm of approaching footsteps caught his attention.

“Pfft. Rio dating Quattro? Old news,” Alito’s voice cut in as he strolled over with Kotori in tow, still hand-in-hand. “They’ve been a thing for, like, a month now.”

Yuma’s head whipped toward them. “You knew?!”

Kotori raised a brow and pointed a finger at him. “Yuma, I’m her friend. Of course I knew–and as such, Alito as my boyfriend would know as well. And maybe if you hadn’t been avoiding us for the past while, you’d have known too. Besides, they wanted to keep it low-key until they were sure.”

Alito gave a lopsided grin. “Pretty sure Shark already pulled the whole ‘if you hurt my sister, you die’ move. Now he just hovers with that classic ‘I’m watching you’ big brother energy.”

Bronk slumped beside the bench, thoroughly defeated. “Why does everyone know except me?!”

Kotori reached out and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Try talking to her, Bronk. It doesn’t have to be romantic. You still matter to her.”

Alito leaned down with a mock-serious whisper, “Just don’t challenge Quattro to a duel over it. You’ll get wrecked.”

Kotori smirked, nudging Alito with her elbow. “Like when you challenged Yuma for my love?”

“Wait what?!” Yuma yelped, eyes snapping between the two. “You were serious in that duel?! I thought that note was a joke!”

Alito puffed up with a confidant smirk. “I told you I was serious! And now, Tori realizes I’m the only one worthy of her.”

“You didn’t notice because you were too busy running around with Ray,” Kotori shot back playfully. “While Alito was making sweet gestures and pulling ridiculous stunts… Honestly, I should’ve known back then–your heart was already taken.”

There was no bite in her words, only warmth and old familiarity. The teasing bouncing easily between them now, the awkwardness of the past finally lifted. It felt…right. Like something long out of tune had finally clicked into harmony.

“Alito did what now?” Yuma blinked, looking completely lost.

“He tried giving me flowers,” Kotori said dryly, crossing her arms. “But someone…”She cast a look at Yuma. “Completely steamrolled the moment.”

Ray, smirking just a little from the safety of Yuma’s arms, chimed in. “You kinda crushed them. Literally. I was there.”

“I did not! I’d remember something like that!” Yuma exclaimed, scandalized.

Kotori sighed like she’d aged another five years. “Yuma, seriously. You were too busy with Ray, all caught up in your own little world. Would it kill you to be even a little more observant?”

“I am observant!” Yuma huffed. “I notice things when it counts!”

“Yeah?” Alito raised a brow, crossing his arms. “Is that why it took almost losing Ray to finally man up and realize he felt the same?”

“HEY!” Yuma’s face turned bright red, half defensive, half flustered.

Ray didn’t say anything this time–just leaned in closer, his smirk widening as he nuzzled subtly against Yuma’s cheek. Which only made the flush worse.

Bronk sank down further with a heavy sigh, shoulders slumped. Surrounded by his friends–each of them either already in a relationship or just starting one, he felt like the odd one out. Alone. And more than a little heartbroken.

The others quickly picked up on the shift and adjusted accordingly. “Hey, Bronk…” Kotori said gently, crouching down beside him. “It’ll be okay. There’s plenty of fish in the sea–”

“But they’re not her, Tori,” Bronk muttered, eyes downcast. “It’s not just that she said no, it’s that I finally built up the courage and–bam. Turns out I never even had a shot.”

Alito tilted his head, his expression less teasing now and more thoughtful. “You’re not really thinking about dueling Quattro, are you?”

“No…” Bronk sighed again. “I’m not stupid. Quattro’s a pro, and even if I was dumb enough to try, Rio’s not a prize to win in a Duel. If she’s happy, that’s what matters.” His hands clenched loosely in his lap. “Still…if he hurts her–he’s gonna have to answer to me too.”

There was a quiet moment between them, filled with mutual respect. “You’re a good guy, Bronk,” Ray said softly from where he still sat with Yuma. “Rio’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her–even if it’s not the way you hoped.”

Bronk managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. Guess I just gotta figure out where that leaves me now…”

“And we’ll be here, every step of the way!” Yuma chimed in, his voice full of unwavering sincerity.

Ray nodded. “You’re not alone, Bronk. We’ve all been through a lot and we’ve got your back.”

“...Bronk, take it from me,” Kotori added softly, her voice a little more serious now. “Sometimes it takes losing what you think you wanted…to find what you actually needed.”

Bronk blinked, caught off guard by the weight in her words. He looked around at his friends–Alito and Kotori, standing close together. Yuma and Ray, comfortably seated together. And a small, sad laugh escaped him. “You guys really are sappy now, huh?”

Alito grinned. “Speak for yourself. I was always this charming.”

Kotori rolled her eyes, smirking. “Sure you were.”

Bronk chuckled at the exchange, some of the tension in his shoulders finally starting to ease. “Thanks, guys. Really.”

The tension eased as laughter returned to the group, soft and genuine. Whatever weight had hung between them earlier now felt lighter–diffused by friendship, shared memories, and a renewed sense of understanding.

They all lingered a little while longer by the tree, enjoying the sun’s golden warmth and the slow sway of the leaves overhead. Bronk, though still a little quiet, smiled more easily now. Kotori and Alito continuing their playful back-and-forth as Yuma found himself grateful for this rare kind of peace.

Ray leaned gently against him again, and Yuma’s arms instinctively tightened–less from a need for reassurance and more from the comfort of simply holding him. Surrounded by friends and laughter, the peace between them felt hard-earned and precious. But as the minutes slipped by, the looming reminder of classes began to pull everyone back to reality. The group gradually dispersed, voices fading as they drifted off in different directions. Yuma remained behind, walking with Ray in silence toward his next class.

When they reached the end of the hall, they slowed to a stop–neither quite ready to part. Yuma’s hand lingered, as did Ray’s, both of them caught in a quiet moment that mirrored a far more painful memory. The last time they’d parted like this…had been before the Shadow of Marin had emerged. Yuma having been taken soon after, forced to watch helplessly as Ray suffered and ultimately vanished from his life. And the memory made his grip tighten.

Ray, sensing the shift, reached up to touch Yuma’s face–his fingers brushing gently across his cheek. “See you later?” he asked, his voice soft but certain.

“You better,” Yuma replied, though the ache in his chest betrayed his attempt at lightness. Without hesitation, he leaned in pressing a kiss to Ray’s lips. “...I love you, Ray.”

He wasn’t sure why it came out so suddenly. Maybe it was fear. Maybe he just needed Ray to hear it. But Ray’s touch remained steady, warm, grounding. “I love you too, Yuma,” Ray said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “So…see you soon.”

With one last glance, Ray turned and disappeared into his classroom, leaving Yuma standing alone in the hall. Silence settled around him, broken only by the distant hum of footsteps and closing doors. Yuma lingered for a moment, fighting the urge to follow–to make sure this wasn’t another goodbye. But eventually, he took a breath, steadying himself, and turned to head for his own class.

That was when a small buzz came from his pocket. Startled, Yuma fished out his Duel Gazer and equipped it. The interface flashing with an incoming call–Sender: Girag. Yuma paused for a moment blinking a bit. He was a little confused by the call, but not entirely surprised. With the Shadows of the Barian Emperors an ongoing threat, Shark had likely updated the Emperors–so maybe Girag was reaching out about that. But still, the call felt…strange. In anycase, Yuma accepted the call. Girag’s face appearing on the holographic screen. “Girag?”

The Barian’s expression was unreadable. His voice, however, carried unmistakable weight. “Yuma Tsukumo.”

“Yeah? What’s this about?” Yuma asked, a little bit startled by the formality and serious tone.

“I heard Ray’s back,” Girag said, eyes narrowing. “I want you to pass along a message. Tell him I’ll be waiting at the refineries. And that he better show…or else.”

Yuma’s eyes widened, as his pulse jumped. His defensive nature instantly rising. “What?! Girag, are you serious right now? Ray hasn’t even been back a full day, and you’re already trying to drag him into a Duel? He doesn’t need this!”

“I’ve got a score to settle,” Girag growled. “I haven’t forgotten what he did to me and Alito.”

“That was five years ago! He’s not the same person–and you know that!” Yuma spat back, his protectiveness of Ray flaring.

“That’s for me to decided. He owes me a Duel.” Girag said, his eyes glinting darkly. “Tell him to come…or I’ll come find him myself.”

The screen went black with a sharp click, Girag’s image vanishing like a shadow in the wind. But something about that call sat wrong with Yuma. Not just the message–but the way Girag had spoken. The flatness in his voice. The hollow look in his eyes. It hadn’t sounded like a grudge. It had sounded like something else entirely–cold, calculated. Like the words were coming from somewhere deeper…and darker. And then it hit him. That wasn’t Girag. A chill ran down Yuma’s spine. He’d seen this before–with Marin. With Alito. And now…Girag.

Another Shadow. Another corrupted remnant, twisted by the pain Vector had left behind.

Yuma’s stomach twisted. Ray had only just come back to him. They were finally together–openly, and truly happy. Even if that happiness already felt fragile, like something borrowed from a time they’d never thought they’d get back. And now this–another Shadow was threatening to rip it all away. Yuma’s fists clenched, knuckles whitening. His heart pounded in his chest. ‘I can’t let this happen. I won’t let this happen.’

He couldn’t risk Ray being dragged into another Duel like the one with Marin’s Shadow. That Duel had nearly broken him–it had shattered him. And if Girag’s Shadow was anything like the others, it wouldn’t stop at victory. It would want pain. Destruction. ‘No.’ Yuma shook his head, jaw tight. ‘Ray’s not going…’

‘...I am.’

He didn’t know exactly what the Shadow had planned–but if it had chosen the refinery, the same place where Yuma had once learned the truth about Ray being a Barian…then perhaps it wanted to rewrite that history. To undo the victory he and Ray had fought so hard to claim.

Fine. The Shadow could try–but Yuma wasn’t going to let it happen. He would face Girag’s Shadow head-on–alone this time and he would end it.

No one was going to take Ray away from him again.

Without a word, Yuma turned down the corridor, passing his classroom without a second glance... His steps quickened, each one more certain than the last as he made his way through the school gates and off campus. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. This was something he had to do–for Ray.

Chapter Text

Yuma’s pace slowed, his footsteps echoing against the pale gray stone as the towering silhouette of the refinery rose ahead. The familiar sprawl stretching before him–a jungle of steel and shadow. Tall distillation towers loomed like sentinels, their surfaces streaked with soot. Storage tanks dotting the landscape, and endless pipelines snaked across the ground and overhead, coiling like a mechanical web.

The refinery thrummed with unnatural energy. Shadows stretched long beneath the flickering lights, and the air felt thick, humming with tension–like the calm before a storm. But Yuma didn’t waver. His steps remained steady as a hulking figure came into view, leaning against one of the outer walls.

Girag.

He stood tall in his Barian form–broad, imposing, and alien. His dark brown armor gleamed with orange gemstones, pulsing like veins of corrupted energy. His face was more mask than flesh, a grey helmet-like visage with sharp obsidian horns jutting above glowing, predatory eyes. A strip of jagged green hair crowned his head in a fierce mohawk, and at his chest, the golden Barian Emblem gleamed–etched like a royal seal into the armor. Brown gloves, heavy boots, and a G-shaped belt completed the uniform.

From his position he looked like a hunter. Cold, calculated, and ready to strike.

At the sound of Yuma’s approach, Girag’s Shadow’s head snapped up. He pushed off the wall, rising to full height with an unnatural weight, the air around him thickening with menace. “I said this Duel was for Ray,” he growled. “He better show up.”

Yuma didn’t flinch. He slid his Duel Disk into place with a quiet click, the sound swallowed by the silence stretching between them. His hands moving with precision. Controlled and cold. A flicker of something shimmering in his eyes–darker, sharper than before. The air around him stilling as well, heavy like a held breath.

“Your Duel is with me, Shadow,” Yuma said–his voice low, flat, and unfamiliar.

The Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “I told you—if he didn’t show, I’d hunt him down myself–”

“If you want Ray…then you’ll have to go through me first,” Yuma cut in. His voice cracked like thunder. “Unless you’re afraid.”

The last word hung in the air like venom–a taunt, not a challenge. It wasn’t the voice of Yuma the Shadow had expected. There was no grin. No spark. Only a chilling stillness–the echo of something older, darker, simmering just beneath the surface.

This was the third time.

That was the only thought in Yuma’s mind as he set his Duel Gazer in place, the cold in his chest refusing to fade as he locked eyes with the Shadow across from him.

The first had been Marin’s Shadow.

She hadn’t wanted just revenge. She wanted Ray–Vector, to suffer. To feel what she had felt: isolation, betrayal, loss. She’d fed on that loneliness, using Yuma as both bait and blade. Holding him captive through the Duel, not just to win–but to kill the hope in Ray’s eyes. To take Yuma from him first…and destroy him after.

Then came Alito’s Shadow.

His desire for vengeance ran deep–but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to break Ray. To make him feel discarded, forgotten. If Yuma had shown even a flicker of doubt…if he’d leaned toward Kotori, even briefly…that would’ve been enough. Enough to unravel Ray completely. And if it didn’t? Then Alito’s Shadow would’ve taken Yuma anyway–stolen away Ray’s final hope, just to prove that love, for him, was always temporary. Always doomed.

And now–Girag’s Shadow.

No deception. No grief masquerading as cruelty. Just raw, unfiltered hatred. Cold and direct. He didn’t want Ray to suffer. He just wanted Ray gone. Nothing more and nothing less.

And Yuma was done.

Something cold and had begun to stir–coiling deep beneath the surface, a flicker of shadow threading through his core. His gaze was locked, unblinking. No grin. No spark. Just the unnerving stillness of someone who had crossed the line between protector and destroyer–and had not yet come back.

Girag’s Shadow watched him closely now. Something flickering behind its predatory eyes–not confidence, but recognition. Or maybe fear. This wasn’t the duel it had expected. It had come seeking vengeance. But what stood across from it now…was something else.

Wordlessly, the Shadow activated its Duel Disk. “Your funeral.”

An eerie smile touched Yuma’s lips–not his usual smirk, but something colder. Distant. Almost cruel. “Your defeat will be merciless…as you fall before my hand.”

The words felt wrong. Too deliberate. Too ancient. As if borrowed from another mouth entirely. And in the silence that followed, the wind tugged at Yuma’s long black hair, framed by the long red streaks and for the briefest moment, he no longer looked like Yuma at all–but someone else.

“Let’s Duel.”

“You’re gonna regret stepping in for your, pal,” Girag’s Shadow snapped, hiding his unease behind false bravado. “I draw!”

“I summon Shadow Hand!”

A warped limb cloaked in swirling darkness erupted onto the field, its fingers twitching like broken marionette strings. “This monster counts as two materials when I Xyz Summon. So I Overlay my Shadow Hand to Xyz Summon–Number 106: Giant Hand!”

The creature dissolved into a spiral of purple energy, vanishing into the Overlay Network and from its center emerged a monstrous hand of cracked stone, with eyes burning from its fingertips and palms. “Now I activate Rank-Up-Magic Shadow Force! I rebuild the Overlay Network–Chaos Xyz Evolution! Come forth, Chaos Number 106: Giant Red Hand!”

The vortex flared once more as the monster dissolved into particles of light to join with it. This time, the ‘giant hand’ was no longer alone–its lower arm extended, wrapped in throbbing crimson light. Two black, demonic blades jutted from its sides like wings. “I set two cards and end my turn,” the Shadow finished, its voice tight, sharp.

Yuma didn’t move.

The moment passed. And still, he didn’t blink. His stance was too rigid. His face unreadable. That wild, impulsive spark–the joy that once defined him, was gone. What remained was a silence that felt unnatural. Patient. Like a mind waiting beneath his own.

Even the Duel Gazer over his eye glinted strangely, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer like a seal–not a tool.

“Just take your turn!” the Shadow barked, that flicker of unease finally breaking through.

Yuma’s voice came–low, precise. Measured to the syllable. “You feign confidence,” he said, almost a whisper. “Let us see if you can hold on to what remains of it.”

The Shadow faltered–not at the words, but at the presence behind them. The voice was hollow. Not emotionless–just…void. Like it belonged to something that had forgotten how to be human.

And for a fleeting second, it wasn’t Yuma’s voice at all. Something shimmered behind him–heatless, dark, ancient–and watching. Gone the moment you tried to see it clearly. But just as it seemed to be taking shape–

“Yuma!”

The voice cracked through the tension like lightning, with the sudden emergence of the new arrival.

Ray.

Yuma’s breath hitched. His head turned sharply–like waking from a trance. That stillness shattered. The weight in the air eased, like the world took a breath with him, as his shoulders dropped and his lips parted.

The thing behind his eyes–whatever it had been, retreated. For now.

“…Ray.”

The gleam in his Duel Gazer dulled and his rigid stance softened. He was Yuma again. But the cold echo that had spoken through him wasn’t gone. It had found its voice–and it would speak again.

“Ray! You shouldn’t be here!” Yuma blurted, voice cracking back to life as panic rose from within. “It’s too dangerous!”

“You’re the one who ran off!” Ray snapped, worry heavy in his voice. “What were you thinking, taking on a Shadow by yourself and without telling me? We’re supposed to face this together–remember?!”

He stormed up to Yuma, grabbing his shoulder and froze.

Damp.

Ray’s eyes widened. Yuma wasn’t just shaken. He was crying. Quiet, unbroken tears had begun streaking his face. No sobs. No tremble. Just grief, steady and silent, like something had shattered under the surface. “I only just got you back, Ray,” Yuma whispered, trembling. “You’re not ready to be out here again…”

Ray’s frustrations broke apart like glass. His expression crumpling with alarm and care and without hesitation he stepped forward, pulling Yuma close in a protective embrace. One hand gently finding its way through Yuma’s long hair, brushing the sharp red streaks now more vivid against pale skin. “I know,” Ray murmured, “But I worry about you too…”

“Please–just let me stand beside you and at least let me cheer you on.”

Yuma’s arms slowly came up in return as he held onto Ray–not desperately, but as an attempt to ground himself in something real. Something good. “I’m sorry I worried you, Ray…” His voice cracked with guilt. “I do trust you to fight your battles, I just–”

“It’s okay,” Ray said softly, cutting in with a warm smile. “Just win this Duel, okay?”

Yuma blinked. Then–he smiled. Sudden and bright. Like the sun rising after a storm. “With you cheering me on–how could I not?!”

And just like that, the spark was back.

There was a flicker of reluctance as Yuma’s arms slipped away from Ray’s embrace. But before he could fully turn back to face the Shadow, Ray reached to his Extra Deck box and pulled something free–two cards now held tightly between his fingers. “Wait–take these.”

Yuma stopped in his tracks, eyes dropping to the cards Ray pressed into his hands. “Masquerade…and Umbral Horror Masquerade?”

Ray nodded, his voice low. “Use them. And know I’m fighting with you.”

Yuma stared at the cards–silent for a moment. Then he looked back at Ray, emotion rising behind his eyes. “I’ll take good care of them. I promise.”

He turned now, slipping the cards into his Extra Deck.

In front of him, the Shadow remained motionless. It should have demanded the Duel continue–pressed its advantage, but it didn’t. It only watched–uneasy. Still shaken by the thing that had nearly surfaced inside Yuma.

There was something familiar in it. A cold weight. A presence it had felt before…long ago, when it had not been just a Shadow. When it had still been a part of Girag. It curled behind Yuma’s eyes now, that same pressure–ancient, oppressive, and wrong in a way no words could explain. And the memory of it–of serving it, fearing it–kept the Shadow still.

Yuma stepped forward, shoulders squared. His voice rang out again–sharper now, energized. “Alright, Shadow! Get set to get decked–‘cause it’s my move! I draw!”

Yuma's hand moved confidently to his deck, drawing his next card with practiced ease. “I’m starting with—”

“Not so fast,” the Shadow snapped, voice low and sharp. “I activate my Trap: Damaging Hand. You’ll take 300 points of damage for every card in your hand.”

A pulse of spectral energy burst across the field–then came the hands. Shadowy as they rose up from the void, slamming into Yuma like a wall of jagged pain. He gasped and staggered back a step, before dropping to one knee as the blast tore through him. His Life Points nosediving from 4000 to 2200 in a blink. The Shadow grinned darkly. “Now go ahead—just remember, once I’m through with you... Ray’s next.”

“...Yuma…”

“I’m okay, Ray,” Yuma managed, rising slowly. His voice trembled–but his eyes didn’t. “What’s a Duel without a little damage, right?”

Ray didn’t respond at first. His expression was tight with worry, his fists clenched at his sides. “Just…be careful.”

“I got this, Ray.” Yuma turned toward him, pain still clinging to the corners of his posture, but his voice burned with certainty. “We’ve waited too long to be together. There’s no way I’m losing now. We’re going home tonight and every night after that.”

Ray blinked hard. A soft smile tugging at his lips, though something shimmered at the edge of his eyes. He nodded–quiet but firm. ‘I believe you.’

Yuma’s grin returned–fiercer now, ignited by something deeper than bravado. “Alright! Now that that’s outta the way, it’s time to High-Five the Sky!”

He slammed two cards onto his Duel Disk in quick succession. “I summon Goblindbergh! And when he hits the field, he brings a friend–so I’m bringing out, Ganbara Knight!”

A flash of red streaked across the field as Goblindbergh soared in, piloting a stubby crimson plane. It dove low, dropping a clanging metal container that cracked open on impact. From within, Ganbara Knight emerged–armor gleaming red and gray, twin shields raised and ready.

“I Overlay my Level 4 Goblindbergh and Ganbara Knight to build the Overlay Network!” Yuma declared, his voice steady and surging with momentum.

The two monsters burst into particles, spiraling into the Overlay Network. “Rise on up–Number 39: Utopia!”

A beam of radiant energy exploded from the Overlay Network as Utopia–clad in gleaming white and gold, wings unfurled and sword gleaming emerged. Yuma’s hand shooting skyward as his voice rose with it. “Now I activate Rank-Up-Magic Numeron Force! I rebuild the Overlay Network–Chaos Xyz Evolution!”

Utopia dissolved into golden particles, entering into the swirling Overlay Network that reignited with blinding light. “Appear—Chaos Number 39: Utopia Ray Victory!”

With a burst of energy, the evolved form stormed onto the field–a sleek, powerful mecha-warrior, blades drawn, glowing with righteous fury appeared. “I activate my Spell Card–Xyz Treasure! Since there are two Xyz monsters on the field, I get to draw two cards!”

Two cards snapped into Yuma’s hand as he kept the momentum rolling. “Now! Utopia Ray Victory uses one Chaos Overlay Unit–Victory Charge! And adds your monster’s attack to its own!”

One of the Chaos Overlay Units flared and vanished, and Utopia Ray Victory pulsed with power–its attack climbing from 2800 to 5400, eclipsing Giant Red Hand’s power even more. “You’ve got this, Yuma… I’m right here with you,” Ray called out softly, his voice steady with faith.

Yuma’s breath caught. His eyes glancing towards Ray, just for a moment–and everything inside him surged. This wasn’t just about winning. It was about holding onto what mattered. To them. “Utopia Ray Victory! Attack Giant Red Hand! Rising Sun Double Victory Slash!”

Utopia Ray Victory responded instantly, all four arms gripping their respective blades that ignited in scarlet light. The warrior surging forward, cloaked in blazing energy–but before the strike could land, the Shadow’s voice sliced through the air:

“I activate my Trap—Hand Vice!”

“Your attack is negated–and now, you take damage equal to your monster’s ATK. That’s 5400 points, straight to your Life Points. This is the end, Yuma!”

Ray’s eyes went wide. “Yuma!!” He cried, panic shattering through his voice.

Without thinking, he lunged forward–arms wrapping protectively around Yuma’s frame, as if he could somehow shield him from the oncoming blow. It was instinct, irrational and immediate. He wasn’t tied to the Duel. He couldn’t take the damage for Yuma. But that didn’t matter. Fear didn’t care about logic–not when their reunion was still fragile, not when there was a chance they might lose one another again.

Yuma’s eyes widened faintly at the touch–but his expression remained still. No fear. No panic. Only calm. “It’s okay, Ray,” he said softly.

Ray didn’t answer, his arms tightening just slightly. His fingers trembled. He was silent, breath caught in his chest–but the fear still clung to him.

Yuma adjusted, slipping his arms around Ray in return and pulling him close. His voice dropped, low and unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere,” Yuma said. “I promise.”

Ray looked up at him then, eyes gleaming with something caught between relief and concern. Slowly, he nodded–just once and loosened his hold, stepping back to stand at Yuma’s side again.

Yuma exhaled, centering himself. Then, in one swift motion, he drew a card from his hand and slid it into his Duel Disk with confidence.

“I activate my Quick-Play Spell–Desperate Breakthrough!”

Energy shimmered across Yuma’s field, swallowing the incoming damage in a pulse of protective light. “By sending one Xyz Monster from my Extra Deck to the Graveyard, I negate all damage from your card’s effect,” Yuma declared evenly.

He pulled a card from his Extra Deck, sliding it into the Graveyard slot. The image flashed briefly–Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade, before vanishing.

Girag’s Shadow barked a laugh. “Heh. Discarding Ray’s monster like garbage? Just proves how worthless he really is.”

Yuma’s gaze snapped to the Shadow, eyes narrowing–not with rage, but clarity. “If that’s what you think…” He said quietly, sliding a card into his Duel Disk. “Then you’re about to regret it.”

“I activate the Spell Card–Xyz Revenge! Since your Xyz Monster still has Overlay Units, I can summon one Xyz Monster from my Graveyard and steal one of those units for myself!”

With his words finished a familiar figure rose onto the field clad in red and masked–Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade. The monster’s presence was imposing, its form sleek and dreadful as it gripped its staff. One of the Chaos Overlay Units from Giant Red Hand moving to serve Umbral Horror Masquerade instead.

Yuma shifted his stance, placing the card firmly on his Duel Disk. “Welcome to the field, Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade!”

Yuma took a moment to look toward Ray at his side–not just for reassurance, but as if acknowledging him in the act. “We’re in this together,” he said. “You’ve got my back…and I’ve got yours.”

The two monsters stood side by side–Utopia Ray Victory and Umbral Horror Masquerade, the avatars of both Duelest united in perfect tandem. “So go!” Yuma shouted, his voice rising with new strength. “Umbral Horror Masquerade–attack Giant Red Hand!”

Without hesitation, Umbral Horror Masquerade attacked Giant Red Hand. Causing the Shadow of Girag’s monster to shatter into particles of light as the Shadow’s Life Points dropped from 4000 to 3600.

“Way to go, Yuma!” Ray cheered, hope rising in his voice.

But the Shadow only laughed–a cold, brutal sound that cut through the air like a blade. “Don’t get too comfortable. Because once I finish this Duel…” His eyes narrowed, glowing like coals as they fixed on Vector. “I’ll crush him–Vector. Just like I’m about to crush his monster. And with it–whatever twisted love the two of you are clinging to! It’ll die screaming–like everything else he’s ever touched.”

He raised a card and slid it into his Duel Disk with venom. “I activate Shadow’s Revenge! When my Xyz Monster is destroyed, I can destroy the monster that destroyed it–and Special Summon my monster right back!”

Dark tendrils burst from the Trap, skewering Umbral Horror Masquerade. The monster shattering into particles, before Giant Red Hand emerged again–towering, relentless. “So my Giant Red Hand returns.”

Yuma flinched–not from fear, but fury. “You think Ray is just a monster?” He snapped, voice shaking. “You’re wrong about him!”

His eyes lifted, locking on the Shadow–red and steady, burning cold. “You’ll never understand what we have. And you’ll never destroy it.”

“You tell ‘em, Yuma!” Ray called from his side, beaming with pride.

But the Shadow's sneer only deepened, voice low and biting. “You know what he did to us. To me. To you. And you still choose him?”

The words snapped with disbelief, venom laced through every syllable. “What’s wrong with you, Yuma?” the Shadow spat, shaking its head before a bitter laugh escaped. “You really think what you have is love? That’s not love–it’s delusion.”

Ray looked visibly hurt, the pain clear behind his eyes as he took a step forward, moving his hand through the air. “Don’t you think I know that…!” He said firmly. “I know I can’t make up for everything–that I can’t expect people to just forgive and move past it… And I know I don’t deserve, Yuma–”

He couldn’t finish as Yuma cut in, voice rising, firm and unwavering as his red eyes locked on Ray. “YOU do deserve me.”

The words hit like a heartbeat between them, sharp and clear.

Yuma turned his full focus on Ray, taking a step closer–not just to reassure him, but to anchor him. “You think I don’t remember what happened? That I forgot the pain? I didn’t. But you’re not the same as you were back then. And I’m not here because you’re perfect, Ray. I’m here because I chose you. Even after everything.”

Then, with a glance at the Shadow–sharp and cutting he continued. “You say it’s delusion? No. What’s delusional is thinking pain means we stop feeling. That people can’t change. That love can’t survive darkness.”

Yuma’s voice dropped low. Steady. “Ray’s not my mistake. He’s my future.”

As Yuma finished speaking, his fingers brushed against Ray’s Baria Crystal hanging around his neck–the same crystal Ray had entrusted to him when he promised he’d return. A promise he kept and as his fingers made contact the crystal pulsed suddenly with light, flooding upward from his chest.

The world shifted in an instant.

Yuma finding himself standing before the Door of Destiny, its voice echoing through the void with weight and purpose: “The time has come. Will you step forward and claim the power that is your destiny?”

The sensation was familiar–like the moment long ago when he and Astral first awakened ZEXAL. But this time, it carried a different resonance. Not just the bond of allies, but something deeper. “Remember–the power granted comes at a cost. Are you ready for the challenge?”

Yuma’s gaze hardened, determination blazing in his red eyes. As the chains binding the door shattered, spilling light across the space, he reached up and gripped Ray’s Baria Crystal firmly. And with a steady breath, stepped forward allowing the light to engulfed him.

He was back on the field, yet something inside him had changed. The surge of power was no longer just friendship or duty–it was love.

Yuma’s eyes locked with Ray’s–no fear, only understanding. In response, Ray’s form shimmered, shifting into his energy state as Vector: crimson skin threaded with golden diamonds and fiery red wings that stretched wide behind him. His purple eyes deepening to a piercing blue as they met Yuma’s.

The pair nodding once.

Silent. Unbreakable.

And in that moment, their power ignited.

Crimson energy flaring to life around them, pulsing and coiling as it surged skyward. “We build the Overlay Network!”

The energy spiraled upward, mirroring an Xyz Summon–streams of crimson light wrapping around their bodies, intertwining like twin flames rising as one.

“From chaos and shadow…to light and love–together, we rise!”

“Revealing the power of—ZEXAL!”

“Even if the world won’t forgive you…”

“Even if the world turns on you…”

Their voices overlapped, becoming one:

“We choose each other. Now and always!”

“ZEXAL MORPH: V!”

A brilliant column of light exploded skyward, searing against the refinery’s metallic gloom. From above, a singular pillar of fused energy descended like divine judgment.

Girag’s Shadow staggered back, his expression twisting with dread. “No…that energy…”

There was deep-seated fear behind those words, and the Shadow could only gaze forward as a singular form began to become clearer…

Chapter Text

A striking figure stood framed against the fading light, their silhouette cutting through the dim haze of the refinery, the glowing crimson reflection dancing off the metal walls. The form before them was not just one identity, but two, seamlessly fused into something new, something powerful. Hair tumbled wildly–two long, fiery red bangs framed the face, sharp and bold, slicing through the air like the streak of a comet. Above, the hair erupted in bulbous orange spikes, thick long strands cascading downwards in the back, in a sharp untamed manner stretching towards the ground. The tips of these spikes gleaming with small, ethereal white gemstones, catching the light as if they were stars birthed from the night itself, each glimmer a reminder of the power that now coursed through them.

Clad in a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit, their silhouette was both agile and imposing, like a living weapon born from shadow and light. The bodysuit pulsing with red circuitry lines, intricate patterns weaving across the fabric, glowing with the hum of energy, and creating a seamless fusion of organic strength and cutting-edge technology. The design hinted at something far beyond the mere physical, as if the very fabric of their being had been altered, engineered to serve a singular purpose. At precise intersections of the lines, crystalline white gems pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of the fusion itself, filling the suit with an inner light.

Long boots, equally sleek, encased their legs, their design mirroring that of the bodysuit–embedded gems and pulsing circuitry. That seemed to radiate the same energy, solid and dynamic, wrapping the figure in a polished, formidable form. Their hands, encased in fingerless gloves, bore the same glowing red lines, tracing the curve of their wrists and moving up to the backs of their hands. The fingertips, bare and resolute, revealed nails painted a deep, glossy red, catching the light with a striking flash–sharp and confident.

But it was their eyes that told the deepest story. One eye burned with a fierce crimson flame, the other a sharp, piercing purple. A perfect contrast, a symbol of the duality that now shaped their soul–resolute and unpredictable, steadfast and wild. Their eyes blazing with a quiet intensity that transcended the ordinary, an undeniable force of will.

This was no longer Yuma alone. This was no longer Vector alone. They had become something greater. Together.

The air crackled with an electric tension as Yuma and Ray stood, their fused form radiating power. The glow of their circuitry pulsing in rhythm with the deep hum of the refinery, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to shift with a life of their own. Their dual eyes sharply fixed on the Shadow of Girag before them–who remained in shock. But maybe not as in shocked as the new arrivals on scene.

Dumon and Shark arrived first, stepping through the fading Barian portal that Dumon had summoned. Their eyes quickly sweeping over the refinery and fixing on the figure bathed in glowing circuitry. Dumon’s gaze narrowed slightly. "A new Zexal Morph," he muttered, the shock in his voice hidden beneath his usual calm.

Shark’s eyes flicked to Dumon, his tone flat but his words sharp. “That’s no Astral, I’ll tell you that much.”

Hardly a moment passed before two more Barian portals flickered into existence on opposite sides of the refinery, and Rio and Mizar emerged respectively, joining Dumon and Shark. Rio’s eyes flicked to the fused form of Yuma and Ray. “Is that…what I think it is?” She muttered under her breath, her gaze sharp and inquisitive.

Mizar didn’t seem surprised, but his sharp blue eyes locked onto the fusion as he placed a hand on his waist, standing tall and observing carefully. “It seems Yuma is full of surprises,” he said, his voice steady. "If anyone could manage something like this, it would be them."

There was a subtle pride in his words, the respect almost hidden beneath his usual cool exterior. Though it was clear, that Yuma’s influence was starting to make a mark on the Barian. His gaze lingering on the fused pair longer than needed, as if contemplating the significance of what he was witnessing. This was new. And yet, strangely intriguing.

The moment hung suspended, charged with meaning–until it was broken by the familiar hum of engines overhead. Orbital 7's thrusters roared, sending a burst of energy as it hovered before landing, with Kite touching down first. His steps were precise, purposeful, but his gaze immediately zeroed in on Yuma and Ray’s fusion. The sight of their combined form–powerful, harmonious, stirring a flicker of surprise in his usually composed expression. “Unbelievable…” he muttered under his breath.

He couldn't suppress the strange mix of admiration and something deeper that stirred inside him. This was Yuma and Ray? The sheer power emanating from them was undeniable. But there was something even more striking about it: a true, balanced fusion between a Barian and a human. Even when his father had been possessed by Vector, it had never felt like this–never so symbiotic, so whole.

His gaze shifted, almost unconsciously, to Mizar standing nearby. ‘Could we…’ He thought fleetingly. ‘Could Mizar and I ever do something like this?’

The thought barely had time to form before he crushed it–who was he kidding? The rivalry between them was far too thick. It wasn’t just that; he couldn’t even begin to imagine letting his pride down enough to give Mizar the kind of power that came with confessing his feelings. Not when Mizar didn’t even see him that way.

The ache was sharp, fleeting, but real. He had accepted long ago that a bond like Yuma and Ray's was out of his reach. Yet here he stood, the possibility lingering, almost taunting him–as to how much he wanted it. His gaze remaining firmly on Mizar, who seemed to sense it, or at least acknowledged his arrival. Deep blue eyes meeting his.

Mizar’s expression remained stoic, but for a brief moment, his gaze faltered, a subtle flicker of something–curiosity maybe confusion flashing in his eyes. He didn't break eye contact, but there was a shift in his posture, a slight tightening in his stance as if he were weighing something, trying to decipher the tension hanging in the air.

Kite’s pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Mizar–did Mizar even feel any of this? Or was Kite just projecting his own feelings onto the situation?

Finally, Mizar broke the silence, his voice low but even. “You’re starting again,” he commented bluntly, recalling the strange moment back at Yuma's house when Kite had been staring at him following the Duel with the Shadow of Marin. The reminder of that awkward interaction only heightening the tension between them.

Yet the words were still blunt, too matter-of-fact to carry any deeper meaning. Though, Kite couldn’t help but feel there was weight behind them. “I’m not,” Kite replied quickly, his tone defensive. However, his eyes lingered on Mizar just a second longer than necessary.

Mizar raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further. He glanced back at the fusion, a mix of admiration and calculation in his gaze. “Seems like they’ve found a new power.”

Kite only nodded, feeling a strange emptiness in the brief exchange. He forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. There was no time to get distracted, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the feeling that something unspoken still lingered between them.

However, Kite didn’t have time to finish those thoughts as the final set of arrivals appeared. Alito and Kotori emerging from Alito’s Barian portal, their hands linked together. As they stepped forward, their eyes immediately fell upon the fusion, and they exchanged a brief, knowing look.

Alito’s usual cocky grin faltered slightly, his expression shifting into one of surprise and serious consideration as his gaze focused back on the fused form of Yuma and Ray. He muttered with a mix of admiration and disbelief, “Didn’t think they could go this far…”

Kotori, always the optimist, smiled warmly, squeezing Alito’s hand gently as she looked at the fusion with pride. “Well, Yuma’s always been full of surprises,” she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet sense of happiness. “I’m happy for them. They’re finally taking a step forward together.”

Alito’s attention remained caught by the powerful display of Yuma and Ray’s new fusion–how their energies blended together with a brilliance that could almost rival the stars. He couldn't help but feel the stirrings of respect and admiration for the two of them, the bond they shared. It was a force to be reckoned with. But then something tugged at him–a shift in the air, a darkness that seemed to seep in around the edges of the refinery. His gaze wandered, as if drawn by an invisible force, and there it was.

The Shadow of Girag.

Girag had always been more than a mere ally to Alito. He was his best friend. They had fought side by side, shared victories, losses, and everything in between. But now, seeing Girag’s own shadow twisting and warping around him, taking control as Alito’s own had with Kotori, it brought a surge of emotion to the forefront that Alito had been trying to suppress. And his chest tightened–his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his expression neutral.

“Girag…” Alito muttered under his breath, barely audible. The words felt heavy on his tongue, like an unbearable truth he hadn’t been ready to face.

Kotori, noticing the shift in Alito's demeanor, reached for his hand once more, her fingers slipping gently into his, offering silent comfort. Alito didn’t look at her. He couldn’t–his eyes remained fixed on the Shadow of Girag that had overtaken his friend. It was like a cruel echo of what had happened to Kotori, but this time, it wasn’t just the woman he loved who was lost to an outside force. It was his best friend, a brother in arms.

“I should’ve seen this coming…” Alito whispered to himself, bitterness creeping into his voice.

He didn’t need to say much more, but the ache in his chest was undeniable. Seeing Girag like this, no longer in control, was worse than anything he had imagined. He was reliving the same nightmare from two days ago and a deep sense of guilt and helplessness gnawed at him, simmering beneath the surface. How could he have missed this again? How could he have allowed Girag to fall on his watch? And how could he have allowed the same to happen to Kotori as well? His hand clenched into a fist at his own grief being laid to bare.

Kotori noticed the way his shoulders had tensed, how his jaw clenched. His eyes, normally sharp and sure, now clouded with something darker and her grip tightened on his hand as she sensed the storm brewing inside him. “Alito…” Her voice was gentle, trying to pull him back, but Alito’s eyes were fixed firmly on the Shadow.

Alito remained silent–he didn’t feel like he had all the answers, and that unsettled him more than anything else. As much as he wanted to be the cocky, confident fighter that always had a plan, this was different. And for all his bravado, there was a hollow feeling deep inside that he couldn’t ignore.

Kotori's arms gently wrapped around Alito, pulling him closer. The warmth of her embrace was a stark contrast to the cold weight of his thoughts. She pressed her forehead against his, feeling the tightness in his jaw, the strain in his posture. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel it–he was sinking under the weight of guilt and helplessness. “Alito…” Kotori’s voice came again, carrying an undeniable strength–like the steady beat of a drum, grounding him. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here. We’ll face this together.”

Her words weren’t just comforting–they were a promise, a lifeline.

Alito closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as her presence flooded through him like a wave of warmth. He hadn’t realized how much he needed her until now. Her unwavering support was the anchor that kept him from being swallowed by the darkness creeping around the edges of his mind. “I just… I should’ve seen it,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I should’ve protected him. I should’ve been there for Girag, for you, Kotori… I failed you both when you needed me…” His words trailed off, a dull ache in his chest growing heavier with each passing moment.

Kotori pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her gaze steady and kind. “You didn’t fail me, Alito. You’re the reason I’m still here. And the reason I can be here to stand with you now.”

Her hand found his, their fingers intertwining naturally, as if they were made to fit together. She squeezed his hand gently, silently urging him to focus on the present. “You’re not responsible for everything, and you won’t carry this burden alone. I’m here, and we’ll get through this together.”

The tension in his chest loosened slightly, but it didn’t completely dissipate, though Kotori wasn’t expecting it to. She knew him better than anyone, and she understood that he didn’t need answers right now–he just needed to feel grounded, to feel connected.

With a quiet sigh, Alito’s grip on her hand tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort she offered. The storm inside him hadn’t fully calmed, but the raw, suffocating weight of it felt more manageable with Kotori by his side. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely audible.

Kotori smiled softly, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. “Anytime, Alito. We’re a team.”

Her words were simple, but to him, they were everything. The weight of the situation hadn’t lifted, but the knowledge that Kotori was here with him made him feel less alone in the fight ahead. Not so isolated as when he had faced his own Shadow–when it possessed Kotori. But he’d relied on determination to save her and that had kept his confidence steady–as he refused to allow himself to consider his own pain in that moment. Now, because of that victory, he was lucky to have Kotori by his side again, supporting him through this.

With a deep breath and a tight, reassuring grip around her hand, his exposed emerald eye moved forward with determination, landing on the new Zexal form. “Yuma! Ray!” Alito called out, his voice sharp with resolve. “Save him—save Girag!”

Their dual-colored eyes–sharp crimson and piercing violet, locked briefly with Alito’s as he spoke. In that moment, something unspoken passed between them: a promise, an answer. The fusion gave a single, resolute nod. Then, without hesitation, their attention snapped back to the Duel. One gloved hand moved with practiced precision, sliding two cards into place.

“We set two cards face-down,” they said in unison, voices blending with calm finality, “...And end our turn.”

The shadows around the refinery deepened, twisting and writhing like living smoke as the Shadow of Girag’s form pulsed with dark energy. A voice, cold and layered with malice, echoed through the air. “So, the ‘perfect fusion’ finally reveals itself,” it sneered, struggling to regain control despite the emergence of Zexal Morph: V startling its resolve for a brief moment. “But you’ll soon see–your little alliance is nothing but a fleeting spark, destined to be snuffed out. At least I can now guarantee Vector’s end once I defeat you both—I DRAW!”

Girag’s Shadow drew a card, eyes locking onto it with a predatory gleam before he slammed it down onto his Duel Disk. “I activate the Spell Card, Shadow Conversion!” It declared. “I can target one face-up monster you control and attach it as an Overlay Unit to my Giant Red Hand!”

Utopia Ray Victory dissolved away, its essence merging with Giant Red Hand as a Chaos Overlay Unit. “Say goodbye to your last line of defense,” the Shadow sneered. “And your precious Utopia Ray Victory!”

“Now, it’s really over!” The Shadow declared. “Giant Red Hand, finish them!”

Giant Red Hand reacted going to strike, but the unison voice of Yuma and Ray rang out in perfect sync. “We activate the Trap, Reverse Glasses! It halves the attack of all face-up monsters on the field!”

The Shadow's eyes narrowed. “Are you forgetting Giant Red Hand’s effect?” He snapped. “I use one Chaos Overlay Unit to negate the effect of your Spell Card!” His voice dripped with scorn. “You two can dress up however you like, but both your love and your bond are nothing but a joke!”

“Giant Red Hand, destroy them!”

Giant Red Hand surged once more, but the fusion remained undeterred. “Ready, Yuma?” Ray’s voice was calm but resolute.

“Always,” Yuma replied, determination echoing in his tone.

“We activate our second Trap, Half Unbreak!” They declared together. “By targeting Giant Red Hand, it halves any battle damage we would take!”

A flash of irritation crossed the Shadow of Girag’s face, but he masked it quickly. Yuma and Ray’s Life Points dropped dramatically–from 2200 to 900–as the fusion was struck, sliding back across the stone ground. The pain surged through their form, but they remained strong, their dual eyes never leaving the Shadow before them.

The Shadow hissed, his anger palpable. “Fine. I set a card end my turn,” he spat, sliding a card into place. “But I will END you!”

The fusion fell silent for a heartbeat, as if both entities were fully aware of what must come next. “Our bond transcends the restrictions and odds of a Duel. Together, we can even generate the very card that will lead to our victory. CHAOS DRAW!”

A surge of crimson light enveloped their hand as they drew a card from their deck, their dual eyes burning with unyielding determination. The moment had arrived. “With this card, our victory is assured!”

Without hesitation, they slipped the card into their Duel Disk. “We activate the Spell Card, Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension!”

“I Overlay my Chaos Number 39: Utopia Ray Victory!”

“And I Overlay my Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade!”

“Together, we build the Overlay Network! Transcendent Xyz Summon!”

The fusion raised its hand high, a blinding light radiating from the field as their signature cards–pulled from the graveyard–briefly returned to the field before dissolving into particles, spiraling into the forming Overlay Network. “Now witness, as our bond brings forth a monster never before seen! Come forth, Masked Transcendent Utopia!!”

From the heart of the Overlay Network, a form began to take shape–its presence both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Masked Transcendent Utopia slowly rose onto the field, towering over the battlefield with an imposing figure that seemed to radiate raw power. Its black bodysuit, mirroring that of the design of Zexal Morph: V, adorned with the pulsing red circuitry, glowing like a living entity, rippling with chaos energy. The golden armor that adorned its form gleaming with authority and strength. Four arms stretched out from its body: two wielding glowing swords, the others gripping the ornate staff of Umbral Horror Masquerade.

A jagged red cape, resembling demonic wings, flared out behind it like a blazing inferno, casting shadows that seemed to dance and writhe in its wake. The golden horns upon its head twisting upwards, like a crown of a monarch lost to shadows, while the half-mask over its face created an eerie contrast to the fierce intensity in its crimson eyes.

This was the harbinger of both destruction and hope.

The Overlay Network that summoned it began to dissipate, but the figure remained–standing tall and unwavering, its power a reflection of the unbreakable bond between Yuma and Ray.

Dumon stood quietly, his piercing gaze fixed on the towering figure now looming above them. His expression remaining neutral, but beneath the surface, there was a flash of admiration. He could see just how far Yuma and Ray had come, how their bond had evolved into something truly formidable. "A powerful bond indeed..." He mused, his voice barely audible to anyone but himself.

Nasch, standing beside him, exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he took in the new fusion. “Took them long enough,” he smirked. “Still not as cool as Seraphic Nihility,” he added, gesturing to his and Dumon’s own Transcendent Xyz monster with a playful nudge toward Dumon.

The comment earned a slight smirk from Dumon, and for a brief moment, their eyes met, the tension of the Duel momentarily forgotten. Nasch’s fingers brushed against Dumon’s hand, and then, without hesitation, his hand closed around Dumon’s, their fingers intertwining. A soft smile lingering on their faces as they found silent comfort in one another’s presence.

Their subtle moment quickly passed as Rio's quiet admiration for the fusion grew more apparent. Her gaze fixed on Masked Transcendent Utopia, as she couldn't help but smile, knowing just how far Yuma and Ray had come. The two at long last having opened up to one another and now this–their bond made manifest for all to see. And it brought a soft warmth to Rio’s heart. “...They’ve really outdone themselves this time,” she murmured, admiring the strength of their connection.

Mizar stood silently observing himself, his sharp gaze unwavering as Masked Transcendent Utopia emerged. His expression was stoic, but beneath his cool exterior, something flickered–respect, perhaps, but more than that. He was no stranger to power born of this new Rank-Up-Magic Card. He had witnessed the transcendence of his own and Kite’s Galaxy-Eyes in their Duel against his own Shadow. That moment, a necessity born out of survival, had forged a bond through teamwork–a rare occurrence for Mizar, who thrived on rivalry, and yet…this was different.

Yuma and Ray’s transcendence was not born of necessity or rivalry. Their bond was one of love–unwavering and unshakable. Something that transcended the odds of the Duel itself. A partnership that had reached its apex, embodied in Masked Transcendent Utopia. And as much as Mizar hated to admit it, there was a power in that bond, something raw and undeniable.

Mizar’s gaze softened for just a moment, his mind wandering briefly to the time when he and Kite had been forced to unite, their rivalry momentarily set aside in the heat of battle. He had never considered the possibility that there might be something more in that fleeting partnership. Not love–never that–but perhaps the strength that could be found in unity, even through rivalry.

“Impressive,” Mizar finally said, his voice low, though there was an edge to it–a tone that held more weight than mere acknowledgment. He was not one to give praise easily, but in this moment, it felt earned.

Mizar’s praise lingered in the air, the unspoken respect hanging between them. But for Kite, it was a bitter reminder of his own struggles, his gaze locking with Mizar’s before turning away in frustration. A surge of conflicting emotions rushing through him–admiration for what Yuma and Ray had achieved, a pang of envy, and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. His breath caught in his throat, and for the briefest of moments, his thoughts drifted back to Mizar.

They had transcended their own dragons–his Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and Mizar’s Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon–but theirs had been a union of necessity, forced by circumstances. Not like this. Not like what Yuma and Ray shared. There was a purity in the bond between them, something Kite couldn’t deny. And his blue-grey eyes found Mizar again, lingering on him. He cursed himself for it, wishing he could push the longing aside.

If only the rivalry between them had remained intact on both sides–then he wouldn’t feel this emptiness creeping in. He wouldn’t long for a fusion with Mizar, or the chance to wield their card once more...

But instead, he was stuck with those desires, knowing full well they were impossibly out of his reach. His fists clenched at his sides as the weight of his unspoken feelings for Mizar and his own limitations pressed down on him. ‘If only he’d acknowledge what we could achieve together,’ Kite thought bitterly, his frustration clear. But the words stayed stuck in his throat, unsaid but painfully understood.

Kite’s fists clenched as his thoughts swirled in frustration, but on the other side of the field, Alito and Kotori stood in quiet awe. Alito’s earlier turmoil seemed to soften as he watched the fusion, his own fears momentarily eased by the strength radiating from Yuma and Ray’s bond.

“Yuma…Ray…” Kotori whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with quiet admiration. “They've really done it. This...this is their strength, isn’t it?”

Alito’s gaze lingered on the fusion for a moment, Kotori’s words settling in his mind. He took a steadying breath before offering a slight nod acknowledging the truth in her voice. “Yeah,” he said, his resolve hardening as a flicker of fire returned to his eyes. “Now they can finish this Duel and save Girag.”

The moment of silent reflection passed, and the stage was set. Dual eyes locked forward, their focus fixed firmly on the Shadow of Girag. They were ready to make the final push. With determination and the support of their friends behind them, they moved forward with their turn. “When Masked Transcendent Utopia is summoned to the field, it can destroy one Spell or Trap Card!”

The Transcendent Xyz responded immediately, its staff glowing with an crimson light drawn from Umbral Horror Masquerade’s skill. The staff raised high, the air around it crackling with energy. With a sweep of its weapon, the face down card of the Shadow of Girag’s field was shattered, reduced to a cascade of light fragments that dissolved into nothingness.

“Next, Masked Transcendent Utopia uses one Transcendent Overlay Unit, banishing one monster from this field–allowing it to gain that monster’s attack. It also grants our monster the ability to attack twice.”

The duel field seemed to warp as the Xyz Monster surged with energy, drawing from the Utopia Ray Victory’s legacy while strengthening itself with the new power to banish a monster on the field and attack twice. Masked Transcendent Utopia crossed its sword and staff creating an ‘X’ of radiating crimson light that struck the Shadow’s monster. Giant Red Hand vanishing in a flash of light particles, as Masked Transcendent Utopia’s attack power surged from 4000 to 6600.

Now the fusion raised its hand high, its voice resonating with both authority and the bond between Yuma and Ray as the pair spoke in unison. “Now go, Masked Transcendent Utopia! Rising Shadow Slash!”

Without hesitation, the Xyz Monster sprang into motion, propelled by the raw energy coursing through its being. Its blade struck clean, Chaos energy crackling around it in a surge of light. There was nothing left the Shadow could do as the attack collided, sending Girag flying back. The essence of the Shadow itself remaining flickering where it had once stood, as its Life Points dropped to zero.

The holographic screen flickered to life, the word “Victory” flashing brightly for all to see.

Alito was the first to rush forward, his instincts kicking in as Kotori followed closely behind. The pair reaching Girag’s side in seconds. “Girag!” Alito called out firmly, voice laced with concern but also a sense of urgency.

The massive form of Girag groaned as his eyes slowly opened. “Alito? Is that you?” His voice was hoarse, as though he’d just woken from a long, turbulent sleep. “...What happened?”

A moment of silence passed, the air thick with unspoken tension, before Alito took a steadying breath and began explaining what had just transpired. He spoke quickly but clearly, recounting the events with the gravity they deserved. By the time Alito finished, there was something flickering in Girag’s eyes–a mixture of understanding and regret.

Girag shifted as if to get up, but Alito was quick to extend a hand. Without hesitation, Girag took it, allowing his friend to help him to his feet. Once standing, Girag’s attention shifted to the fused state of Yuma and Ray—Zexal Morph: V. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable as he approached. And he paused only once next to the Shadow’s flickering essence to claim his Barian powers before proceeding to move forward.

Before Girag could get any closer, Yuma stepped forward, immediately separating himself from Ray and taking a protective stance in front of him. His gaze was sharp, defensive, not wanting to take any chances after everything that had happened. Girag only paused, eyeing the pair, his massive figure looming over them. For a moment, it seemed like the tension would snap–like a storm was about to break. But instead, Girag did something unexpected.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head, a sign of respect–and out of shame for what had transpired. “I’m really sorry, Yuma,” Girag’s voice rumbled, low and sincere.

Yuma stood frozen for a second, his red eyes narrowing as the tension drained out of him. It wasn’t often he saw Girag this vulnerable. “So...there’s no hard feelings?” Yuma asked cautiously, his voice still tinged with the weight of everything that had happened.

Girag rose to his feet with a grunt, towering over them once again. His voice was steady, but there was a newfound sincerity in it. “You don’t have to worry about me targeting, Vector,” he said, his eyes locking with Yuma’s. “I know he’s important to you. As long as he keeps his head straight, there’s no reason for him to answer to me...or Alito.”

Ray let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “There won’t be any troubles–I promise!” He said quickly, a mix of determination and relief in his tone, eager to keep things peaceful between them.

“Good, if that’s settled,” Nasch's voice cut through the air as he approached, Dumon at his side. “I say, now’s as good a time as any to have that dinner.”

“I agree,” Dumon said, his tone calm but resolute. “There is much we all need to discuss and since everyone’s here, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Yuma’s previous tension was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual energetic bounce. “You mean it, Shark?!” He exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

Shark shot him a confident smirk, hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not unless anyone has other engagements?”

Kite despite having his usual stoic expression in place had the faintest curve of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “It won’t be a problem,” he replied, his voice level.

Mizar, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up next in his calm, measured tone. “I am available as well.”

Alito gave a nod, his typical easygoing nature coming through. “No problems from us either,” he added, with Kotori giving a soft nod of agreement beside him.

Girag grunted in affirmation, his usual intensity still present but tempered by the sense of relief. “If Alito’s going, you can count me in too.”

All eyes turned to Rio, who had been silent up until this point. She sighed dramatically, clearly not prepared for this turn of events. “Geez… Reginald, you picked tonight on purpose, didn’t you?” Her voice was half exasperated, half amused. "You know I have a date with Quattro tonight–he just got back."

There was a subtle tension in her words that wasn’t lost on the others. Despite Shark’s clear acceptance of Quattro to some degree–grudgingly acknowledging that Quattro made Rio happy–there were still moments when he’d give Rio grief about the relationship. Though, Quattro didn’t exactly make things easy on Shark either…

Without missing a beat, Dumon raised an eyebrow and spoke in a tone that was calm and neutral, trying to ease the situation before it could escalate. “Why don’t you ask him to meet us there as well?” He suggested, his voice steady.

Rio shot him a sharp side-eye, clearly aware that Dumon was trying to ease the potential conflict. She softened, though, understanding his intent. “You know I will. Now’s as good a time as any to bring him up to speed on recent events,” she said. “On that note, Reginald…you better behave.”

“That’s gonna depend on how he behaves,” Shark remarked, not missing a beat.

Rio let out a frustrated sigh, her patience thinning. “You’re unbelievable!! I’ve been nothing but supportive of you and Dumon!”

“Dumon didn’t Duel me and cause me to end up in the hospital, Rio,” Shark shot back, his protective nature shining through.

Rio puffed her cheeks in defiance. “Alright, let’s all take it easy–no reason to have another Barian versus Barian,” Ray said, stepping between the siblings.

“Says you!” They both exclaimed in unison.

“Never thought I’d live to see the day, Vector of all people tried to keep the peace…” Alito remarked, unable to hide his amusement.

The comment seemed to land well, as everyone–even Shark and Rio burst into laughter. The tension that had gripped them all melting away, replaced by the warmth of shared camaraderie. It was a fleeting, yet genuine moment where old conflicts seemed to be put to rest.

As the group made their way out, the weight of their past battles seemed a little lighter. They had faced the darkness of six of the seven Shadows of the Barian Emperors, and now, it was time to savor the quiet moments that had eluded them for too long.

Tonight wouldn’t be about duels or threats from beyond. Tonight was for friends.

And for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

Chapter Text

The door jingled softly as the large group entered, the restaurant bustling with energy. Warm candlelight flickered along the tables, and the rich scent of freshly grilled meat and savory herbs filled the air, mingling with the hum of conversation. The group had been eagerly anticipating this dinner–their first opportunity to relax together after the chaos of recent events.

But when Shark approached the host stand, his usual no-nonsense demeanor took on a more determined edge. “Table for eleven,” Shark said, his tone firm yet courteous.

The greeter, a young woman with a bright smile, glanced at the reservations list, her eyes flicking back up to Shark. “I’m afraid we don’t have room for a party that large right now,” she explained, her smile faltering slightly as she glanced around at the packed restaurant. “We’re fully booked.”

The group behind Shark exchanged uneasy glances. And Yuma, who had been bouncing with excitement since the moment they'd made their way out of the Duel, felt the air shift. His grin wavering. He’d been so looking forward to this night–an evening with his friends, with Ray, the chance to finally take a break after everything.

After the battle with Mizar’s Shadow, Yuma had pushed for this chance for them to all go out–only for it to not be possible. Even after the Duel with Dumon’s Shadow when it seemed like they had finally got a date set in stone, Marin’s Shadow had manifested–and Ray had been hurt… He just wanted this–a normal night with no fighting, and no Shadow threats.

But now, once again, it seemed like it was slipping away.

Yuma’s enthusiasm drained, and the bright energy that had lit up his face vanished. It wasn’t just about the dinner; it was about finally having that sense of connection, a feeling of normalcy that felt so rare these days.

The sadness didn’t go unnoticed but Dumon could only offer a knowing sigh from beside Nasch. “I guess we’ll have to rain check this,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of regret. He looked at Yuma, his tone apologetic but firm. “I know you were looking forward to this, but it seems we’ll have to plan again.”

Yuma’s lips quivered slightly, his shoulders sinking as he looked at the group, the disappointment clear. “Yeah, I understand…” He muttered, barely audible, his usual cheer gone.

Ray, who had been standing next to Yuma, watching the whole exchange, had noticed the subtle shift in his partner. He knew exactly how much this meant to him, how much he needed this. And seeing that spark of joy in Yuma fade–Ray wouldn’t stand it. And so without a second thought, he reached into his deck box and withdrew the Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force card. His fingers brushing the smooth surface of the card before he raised it, his eyes flashing with determination.

There was a brief moment of silence before Ray approached the greeter, his usual calm demeanor shifting into something much more assertive. “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” Ray questioned, the Barian’s Force card held high, the card lighting up as its influence spread across the room in a subtle but undeniable shift.

The greeter blinked, her smile faltering as her gaze flickered between Ray and the card. For a brief second, her eyes glazed over, and the warmth of her earlier hospitality was replaced with a quieter, more robotic tone. “We do have a private section available… It’s normally reserved for special circumstances. Would that be acceptable?” She asked, as though the suggestion had come from nowhere.

Ray’s lips quirked into a subtle smirk, reminiscent of Vector. “That would be perfect,” he said smoothly, slipping the card back into his deck.

Without another word, the greeter gestured for them to follow her, and Ray casually glanced back toward the others, aware that his use of the Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force card hadn’t exactly gone over well last time. Back when they’d sought access to Mizar’s dorm–hoping to check on him, his actions had made Bronk, Yuma, and Rio uneasy. Rio, especially, hadn’t hesitated to voice her disapproval. Thus, Ray had braced himself for the same reaction here, expecting the same tension.

But this time, it didn’t come. To his surprise, Rio stepped forward with a slight smirk at the corner of her lips. “Just this once,” she agreed, her voice tinged with reluctant amusement.

Ray felt the weight lift from his chest, the discomfort that had clung to him easing away. It seemed this time, they understood. The group moved as one, following the greeter as the atmosphere around them shifted. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant continued in the background, but now there was a sense of exclusivity, a feeling of being ushered into a more private space. They passed through a set of elegant double doors into a smaller, quieter dining room. The room felt more intimate, with rich velvet curtains draping the walls and a large oval table positioned in the center. It was a space carved out just for them, away from the distractions of the busy restaurant.

The group moved in behind the greeter, filing into the private room with its soft, ambient lighting and the quiet hum of distant conversations from the main dining area. The large oval table at the center of the room loomed, its rich wood surface gleaming under the soft overhead lights. The group quickly taking their seats, each one settling in as the gentle clink of silverware and glasses filled the space.

Ray and Yuma were the first to claim their seats together, their hands brushing before they both slid into the chairs beside one another. Yuma’s bright smile had returned, relieved that the evening was proceeding as planned and eager for the rarer moment of calm where nothing seemed to be looming over them. After everything they’d been through, this simple comfort was everything to Yuma. And he drew his chair close to Ray’s, leaning against him as their fingers intertwined. Their joined hands resting between them in a subtle but undeniable intimacy.

Nasch and Dumon settled into their seats next, effortlessly falling into their familiar rhythm. Dumon’s calm demeanor remained unchanged, but his hand lightly brushed against Shark’s before settling comfortably into his chair. Nasch’s sharp eyes flickered briefly in Dumon’s direction before settling ahead, though the curve of his mouth hinted at a rare moment of contentment.

Alito, ever the easygoing one, took his seat next to Kotori with a grin, clearly pleased to be near her. Kotori smiled warmly, the comfort of their usual banter filling the space between them. The two were at ease with the familiarity of one another, and Kotori didn’t hesitate to rest her hand on Alito’s as they exchanged soft words.

Naturally, Girag took the other seat beside his best friend, Alito. His gaze wandered the room a little before settling into place. Finally leaning back in his chair and joining in the banter with Alito and Kotori.

Rio took her own seat, leaving the seat next to her vacant for Quattro, who was likely to arrive shortly. That left only two chairs side by side for Mizar and Kite. Without hesitation, Mizar slid into one of them, as though this were any other typical arrangement. Kite, however, hesitated, his eyes lingering on the empty chair beside his rival. The space between them felt almost too big to close, yet too small to ignore. The weight of Kite’s emerging feelings pressing down on him, and the air between them growing thick with unspoken and unresolved desires–ones that would likely never receive the closure he wanted. But he couldn’t risk hesitating any longer. And slowly, he sank down into the chair beside Mizar.

Mizar, ever composed, didn’t flinch as Kite settled beside him. His eyes remained forward, his posture perfect, but there was an unmistakable stillness to him. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable–not yet.

The table around them slowly came to life. Soft murmurs of conversation began to fill the room, broken only by the occasional clink of glasses. Across the table, laughter came easily–Yuma animatedly telling a story to Alito and Kotori, while Ray chuckled quietly beside him. A few others chiming in here and there, allowing the mood to be warm and easy. But between Mizar and Kite, the silence persisted.

It wasn’t the kind born of distance or disdain. It was taut, fragile–like the hush before lightning splits the sky. The kind of quiet that doesn’t last. Kite’s gaze dropped–first to the silverware, then to Mizar’s hands: folded neatly, unmoving, fingertips curled slightly as though holding something in. He recognized that stillness, as he himself had lived in it. Kite inhaled. Not sharply. Not dramatically. Just enough to break the silence. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk,” Mizar replied, his voice quiet–but edged with something else. Not cold. Just, cautious.

Kite’s eyes dropped to the unlit candle in front of them, its wick untouched despite the warmth around them. “Maybe I didn’t,” he said, the words slipping out with more bite than he intended. “But it’s harder to ignore when you’re right there.”

He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. That wasn’t what he meant. Not even close.

Of course he wanted to talk to Mizar. Yet after their battle on the moon, five long years had passed with barely any words exchanged between them. The distance wasn’t just physical–it was the weight of time and silence settling between two people who once had a clear, if not turbulent, connection. And now, he just didn’t know how to proceed.

The recent emergence of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors had forced them into the proximity of one another again, but the ease was gone. Without a battle between them, without the excuse of rivalry–what did they even have left to stand on? How could he speak to Mizar when every word felt like it might give something away? The rivalry had once given them structure, a reason to meet, to clash, to matter to each other. Now, with only something far more personal and complicated stirring beneath the surface, Kite felt uneasy.

Mizar’s gaze flicked towards him, sharper now, but not cruel. Just observant. “You make it sound like I’m the problem.”

There was truth in that–but not the kind Mizar meant. Yes, Mizar was the problem. But not because of anything he’d done. The problem was Kite’s–his feelings, the way they refused to stay buried. That tight, uncomfortable knot inside him wasn’t Mizar’s fault…but Mizar’s presence brought it to the surface every time. Kite’s jaw tensed, the frustration rising in his throat before he could push it back down, barely able to keep himself composed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He paused, the words sticking. “I just–”

Once more, he cut himself off–what could he even say?

A moment passed and Mizar shifted slightly, his hand settling on the table between them. Their fingers were now only inches apart–so close that if Kite moved even slightly, they’d touch.

But he didn’t.

“I thought,” Mizar said, voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “...After everything with our Dragons…after we fought side by side, I thought I’d understand what you were feeling.”

Kite blinked. Wait—what?

That wasn’t what he expected. Not from Mizar. Not here. The words caught him off guard, and a surprising warmth moving through him, unfamiliar and sharp. His breath hitched before he could hide it, anticipation kindling behind his blue-grey eyes as he turned slowly to meet Mizar’s gaze. “You don’t?”

Mizar didn’t look away. “You’ve been different since Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon,” he said, not accusing, just certain. “Not weaker. Not distant. Just–different.”

Kite’s heart was pounding now. He didn’t know how to respond. What was Mizar seeing? What had he been seeing this whole time?

Mizar’s fingers shifted slightly, as though debating whether to close the last few inches between them. He didn’t, but the air between them grew heavier.

“I used to think rivalry was enough to understand someone,” Mizar continued. “We knew each other best when we were trying to outmatch each other, to dominate the field. But that’s not what this is.”

Kite swallowed hard. “What is this, then?” He asked, his voice growing quieter than he meant. The words had slipped past his guard–too honest, too raw.

Mizar hesitated. For the first time, something flickered behind his composed expression–uncertainty, or maybe calculation. “I don’t know,” he said, voice even. “But I’ve been trying to understand.” His gazed had turned away from Kite now as Mizar reflected. “When Ray was gone, I spent time around Yuma. I thought…maybe it would help. If you didn’t explain yourself first.”

Kite stiffened slightly. It wasn’t what Mizar said–it was why he said it. He hadn’t just been guessing. He’d been studying him, like a puzzle, like a strategy. Like Kite was still a challenge he couldn’t let go of. Like to Mizar this wasn’t peace between them, but merely a means for their rivalry to evolve to fit a new battlefield. One Mizar was trying to strategically get ahead on.

Kite’s mouth opened–on the edge of a reply, a retort, or maybe something else entirely.

But then—

“Hey! Quattro’s here!” Yuma called, his voice bright enough to cut through the low tension hanging at the table.

The conversation stilled as every gaze turned to the entrance. Quattro stood there casually, his spiky layered red hair falling into familiar yellow bangs, the distinctive cross-shaped scar running down the right side of his face catching the light. His reddish eyes sweeping the room until they landed on Rio, who was already halfway to him before anyone could react.

Without hesitation, Quattro pulled her into a kiss that had more than a little flourish. Nasch’s left eye twitched at the sight, but Dumon calmly reached out, placing a steadying hand over his.

Rio returned the kiss with equal ease, then laced her fingers with Quattro’s and led him toward the table. On her way past, she stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“How’s it going?” Quattro asked, his gaze sweeping the group before landing squarely on Nasch. His grin widening. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much, Reginald.”

Nasch’s eye twitched again and Dumon gently ran his thumb along the back of his hand.

“...Quattro…” Nasch growled through clenched teeth.

“What’s with the hostility, Reginald? I thought we shared a heartfelt moment on the battlefield years ago,” Quattro said, his voice light with mock offense.

“That was before you started dating my sister,” Shark said deadpanned.

“Oh, come on, Reginald I don’t see you making this much noise about Yuma dating Ray,” Rio chimed in, arms crossed.

“That’s different!”

Ray blinked, point at himself. “Wait, I’m the exception?”

“The only difference is the more extreme nature,” Rio said with a huff, then turned toward Ray with a sheepish glance. “No offense. I mean…you did try to take out most of us. And try to take out Yuma as well. But–well, Quattro and I may have Dueled too, but he was the one who got me out safely!”

Ray raised an eyebrow but smiled slightly as he leaned back into Yuma. “None taken,” he said coolly.

Yuma let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Well… technically, we’ve all tried to destroy each other at some point, right?” He said, even though he’d been the one always trying to find a path forward. A way for them all to come together as friends—and somehow, he'd managed it–this moment was proof of that.

Kotori gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ah yes, nothing says friendship like mutual attempted murder.”

Laughter rippled lightly around the table, the tension easing. “Ahem…” Dumon interjected gently but firmly, his composed voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to discuss recent events?”

There were nods of agreement around the table, and Dumon continued. “The first emergence of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors began about a month ago–starting with Vector’s. Then came Mizar’s, followed by mine, Marin’s, Alito’s…and now Girag’s.”

His tone was calm, but his words carried weight. “We no longer have to wonder who’s next. The last will be Nasch.”

Nasch didn’t react, though his jaw tightened slightly. Dumon gave him a brief glance before continuing. “With each defeat, the respective Emperor’s powers and status as Barians have returned to us. That much we know.”

“But not why it’s happening,” Ray said, folding his arms. “Or how. These Shadows shouldn’t exist–not like this.”

“Exactly.” Dumon nodded. “There are still too many unanswered questions. So let’s go over what we do know.”

He straightened in his seat, his tone settling into something more formal. “Looking back at the events from five years ago: Vector was the first to act. He eliminated Marin and me, absorbing our powers. After that, Alito fell and briefly merged with Girag–before Girag was also taken out by Vector.”

“Man, you really went on a power spree back then, huh?” Alito smirked at Ray. “Four Emperors? Bit excessive.”

Ray’s lips twitched into a smirk–more Vector than Ray in that moment. “And I almost got the full set…until a certain someone stepped in.” His eyes flicked toward Nasch.

“You asked for it.” Nasch shrugged, then added with a small grin, “But honestly, four Emperors was probably nothing compared to the chaos of one Yuma. I don’t think anyone can handle that–not even Astral.”

“Wait–WHAT? HEY!” Yuma flailed, drawing laughter around the table.

“It is a bit much–”

“Ray!” Yuma shot him a feigned look of betrayal. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am, Yuma,” Ray said smoothly–his deadpan delivery only making the laughter louder. Before he leaned in, stealing a tender kiss from Yuma’s flustered face. “It’s just cute to see you flustered.”

“Ahem,” Dumon cleared his throat, though the faint smile on his lips showed he wasn’t immune to the moment. “As surprisingly heartwarming as this is, we do need to return to the issue at hand.”

The table quieted again, a new kind of weight settling in. “Right…” Yuma sobered quickly, glancing toward the others. “The Shadows. Don Thousand. Where were we?”

Dumon inclined his head slightly. “We were reviewing the chain of events that led to our current state. I believe we left off at the point Vector had gathered four of us and made his move against Nasch. Who ultimately defeated Vector, but Don Thousand stepped in, absorbing the power Vector accumulated for himself.”

Yuma’s gaze flickered downward for a brief second, fingers still entwined with Ray’s. A shadow passing across his face as memories of that final moment surfaced–Ray’s grip slipping away, the peaceful smile he wore as Don Thousand absorbed him. For a moment, Yuma sank back into that grief, the world around him dulling as the pain grew sharper now that his feelings for Ray were laid bare.

But before the distress could take hold, a gentle warmth brushed along the back of Yuma’s hand. Ray’s thumb, grounding him in the present–rather than allowing him to sink into the past. “I’m here,” Ray whispered, just for Yuma. “You brought me back.”

Ray’s words lingered in the air, the quiet reassurance wrapping around Yuma like a lifeline. And slowly, Yuma’s gaze lifted, the weight of the past giving way to the reality of the present. Dumon cleared his throat again, easing the group back into focus. “Continuing from where we left off...”

The others nodded, and Dumon continued. “Then, when Mizar lost his Duel to Don Thousand, he brought the total to six.”

Kite’s expression tightened, his eyes briefly flickering to Mizar seated beside him. Something stirred within him–something he quickly pushed aside, unsure why the mention unsettled him so deeply. Maybe it was the fear that something similar could happen again. Yet, swallowing the tension, Kite forced himself to focus and steered the conversation back on track. “But Don Thousand never claimed Nasch’s powers,” he said, steadying his voice and using the discussion as a distraction.

“You are correct,” Dumon answered. “Yuma, Astral, and Nasch defeated him before that could happen. But when Yuma then defeated Nasch…” He hesitated, the weight of the memory evident in his pause. “The power disappeared. And when the Numeron Code was used to bring everyone back, we returned as humans.”

The group fell quiet, the gravity of that truth settling over them.

Rio was the first to break the silence. “So then that power…it should have been gone, right?” She asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

“That’s exactly what we presumed,” Dumon replied quietly. “But it seems to have lived on–fragmented, twisted. And how they developed wills of their own is still a mystery…”

A moment passed.

“What if it’s not wills of their own?” Yuma said, his voice cutting softly through the quiet. “What if it’s his will…”

All eyes turned toward him.

“During the final battle, Don Thousand said something like… ‘You can never stand against the power of Chaos, because humans are the root of all Chaos. And that power will always bring me back to life.’”

A chill settled over the group.

“Me and Dumon have had our suspicions he’s been behind this from the start–or at least influencing it somehow,” Shark added, his voice low. “But we also know he should’ve been finished after the Duel between you and me, Yuma. Then again…maybe those words weren’t just meant to intimidate us. Maybe he can come back and these Shadows are just a prelude to something darker.”

He trailed off for a moment, hesitation flickering across his features. There was more Shark wanted to say–but he held it back. Ray had only just returned, and he wasn’t eager to stir more fear in Yuma’s heart. But deep down, his concern lingered: Vector’s deal with Don Thousand couldn’t have been a simple power exchange. No, Shark believed it had been a binding contract. A tether. That by offering his life force for power, Vector–Ray had become permanently tied to Don Thousand. And with the use of the Numeron Code to bring everyone back–including Ray, that tether may have brought something else back as well.

“But that’s enough serious talk for now,” Nasch said, his voice cutting through the tension with a lighter tone. “We also came out here to enjoy the evening as friends. And now seems as good a time as any…to welcome Ray back after his absence.”

Ray blinked, caught off guard. His gaze slowly swept across the table–meeting soft smiles, familiar eyes, and expressions no longer guarded by suspicion or wariness. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full. “I thought this night was about Yuma?” Ray asked cautiously, his voice quiet.

“You and Yuma are a package deal now, aren’t you?” Nasch replied with a smirk. “And besides, you didn’t think we’d just ignore the fact that you just came back, did you? You’re part of the team now–whether we like it or not.”

The last line was unmistakably a jab for old time’s sake, but it lacked venom. Ray knew it. And maybe that’s why he couldn’t speak right away–his throat tightening under the weight of something unspoken. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, honestly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Rio said softly, offering a gentle smile. “Welcome back, Ray.”

“Honestly, I never thought I’d be toasting to Vector, of all people…” Alito smirked.

“Me neither, but here we are,” Girag added, shaking his head with a half-smile.

“Here’s to new chapters and second chances. Or thirtieth, in your case,” Kotori said with a grin.

“You’ve made mistakes,” Kite said, his tone even but sincere. “But you kept moving forward. That counts for something.”

“Agreed,” Dumon said simply, lifting his glass in quiet solidarity. “You’ve earned your place.”

Even Mizar gave the faintest of nods–silent, but meaningful.

Ray sat back, taking in the words, the welcome, the warmth he never expected to receive. Once, he’d thrived on chaos, manipulation, theatrics. But this–this was real. “Thank you,” he said at last, his voice quiet, a few tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. As his fingers remained gently wrapped around Yuma’s. “...I didn’t think this would ever be possible…but I’m glad I was wrong.”

Yuma squeezed his hand lightly, turning to meet his gaze with a soft smile. “Just like you belong with me–you belong here too. With our friends.”

Ray let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. And smiled. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice thick but steady. “I didn’t think this kind of peace was for someone like me.”

Yuma’s hand tightened gently around his. “It is now.”

Chapter Text

The low hum of conversation had softened into a quiet lull as the food finally arrived–platters of sizzling meats, fragrant rice, and delicate garnishes filling the air with a richer warmth than the candlelight alone could offer. The oval table, once a quiet space of tension and reflection, had transformed into something more lived-in–glasses half-filled, plates passed between familiar hands, the occasional clatter of silverware breaking the comfortable silence. Napkins had been unfolded and draped across some laps, and laughter now lingered more easily between bites. It wasn’t loud or raucous, but the kind of low, content energy that only followed a well-earned reunion–the kind where words weren’t always needed, because presence alone was enough.

Eventually, the meal gave way to an easy quiet, a pleasant thrum of lingering contentment. Plates lay half-finished, some pushed aside in favor of leaning back with warm cups cradled in hand. The room had softened again–less bustling now, the candlelight dimming as though echoing the collective exhale from the group.

Yuma remained close to Ray, cheerfully working through a soft dessert accompanied by a scoop of ice cream, occasionally offering Ray a bite between his own. Dumon and Nasch sat quietly beside each other, their postures naturally aligned in a way that spoke more of shared understanding than any need for words. Kotori leaned back against Alito, who held her close with one arm while they both enjoyed warm cups of coffee. On Alito’s other side, Girag nursed a drink of his own, silent but content.

Rio sat nestled close to Quattro, his arm slung casually around her shoulders–drawing the occasional pointed glare from Shark across the table.

As for Kite, the gnawing weight in his chest remained as he sat close to Mizar, the silence between them persistent though no longer tense. His grey-blue eyes unable help stealing the occasional glance at the surprising scenes unfolding before him: how easily Mizar had accepted Yuma’s invitation to partake in a dessert, and how much he seemed to be enjoying it. Even more surprising was the ease between them–Mizar’s usual poise softening slightly as Yuma’s energy worked its way past his defenses. Their quiet laughter, the relaxed way they spoke...it caught Kite off guard in a way he didn’t quite know how to unpack. And it left him wondering how they’d become such fast friends–and yet, maybe it was obvious. Yuma had always had that effect on people and Kite knew this all too well as he’d experienced it firsthand himself.

His gaze must have lingered too long, because Mizar shifted slightly–his sharp blue eyes catching Kite’s. After a moment, he broke the quiet with a flat tone. “You’re staring again.”

Kite tried to deflect quickly. “I was just surprised you enjoy sweets.”

Mizar smirked, casually flicking a strand of his long blond hair back with practiced flair.
“Do my interests intrigue you?” He asked, adding a hint of challenge. “Perhaps you’d like to experience them firsthand?”

The smirk remained as Mizar lifted a spoonful of the creamy dessert, leaning slightly closer.

Kite felt himself freeze–the sudden closeness throwing him off balance. His body tensing instinctively as the space between them shrank, the moment dipping into something undeniably more intimate. His cheeks flushed, but he forced a shrug. “I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” Mizar said, tone light but his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “But you’re missing out.”

Just as smoothly, Mizar leaned back into his chair and slipped the spoon into his mouth instead, that confident expression never fading.

Kite let out a sharp breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, trying to steady himself. Mizar’s boldness hadn’t faltered, and Kite could see the familiar glint of satisfaction in those blue eyes–like he’d just won another round in their ongoing game. Much like that moment at Yuma’s house. So maybe Kite had been right earlier at dinner with his thoughts. Mizar had simply adapted their rivalry to a new battlefield…

Kite shifted in his seat, still feeling the aftershocks of Mizar’s smirk when Yuma leaned forward, catching Quattro’s attention with his usual grin. “So, Quattro,” he asked brightly. “What have you been up to all this time?”

The question cut through the low hum of conversation, and a few heads turned Quattro’s way. “Oh, you know, dazzling my adoring fans with my brilliant Dueling skills,” Quattro replied, smirking with his trademark flair.

Shark’s eye twitched.

“He just finished placing first in this year’s Duel Circuit Championship,” Rio added, offering an apologetic glance toward Quattro. “I wish I could’ve been there in person to see you duel.”

“You don’t need to trouble yourself over it, Rio. There’ll be plenty more Duel Tournaments you can come to–and maybe even drag Reginald along,” Quattro said with a teasing edge, kissing her temple affectionately. “So he can see how a proper Duelist duels.”

Rio just smiled softly. “I’ll be there for sure next time.”

But Shark’s eye twitch hadn’t stopped. “I already know how a proper Duelist duels,” he shot back. “I beat you last time–and I’ll do it again just to prove it!”

“You’re welcome to try,” Quattro replied smugly. “Just don’t cry when I win this time.”

“Reginald, will you behave?” Rio huffed. “As much as we all love a good Duel, this was ‘supposed’ to be a private date with Quattro. Then it turned into a group gathering, and I had to adjust ‘for you’.”

“Let’s give Marin her night, Nasch,” Dumon said calmly, trying to cool the rising tension.

“Fine…” Shark muttered.

Dumon gently reached out and took Nasch’s hand in a quiet gesture of comfort.

Yuma, meanwhile, had already turned back to Quattro, his energy bubbling back up. “That’s so awesome!” He grinned. “How are Trey and Quinton doing? I remember when Mizar’s shadow showed up, Kite mentioned Quinton was the one behind the Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension Cards!”

His eyes lit up even more. “I’ve been hoping to thank him–they’re totally amazing! Me and Ray got to try it out for the first time today! Utopia Ray Victory and Umbral Horror Masquerade got this crazy upgrade into Masked Transcendent Utopia!”

“Sorry, Yuma. Trey and Quinton won’t be back anytime soon,” Quattro said with a shrug. “They’ve been helping our father with a new project. But I’m sure they’ll return before long–you’ll definitely get the chance to thank Quinton then. Though knowing him, he’ll just be glad the card’s been useful.”

“The cards he prepared for us were more than just useful!” Yuma said, practically bouncing in his seat. “Shark and Dumon’s Chaos Numbers evolved into Transcendence Seraphic Nihility! And Mizar and Kite’s Galaxy-Eyes became Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon! I can’t wait to see what’s next!” His eyes gleamed with excitement.

Quattro chuckled at Yuma’s enthusiasm, his earlier bravado softening just a little. “Still a child at heart with the stars in his eyes,” he said, his voice quieter now–no mockery, just a kind of fond surprise. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

Yuma blinked at him. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Quattro replied, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly, it’s refreshing–and I think it’s what kept the rest of us from losing it a long time ago.”

The statement caught Yuma off guard. His smile faltered slightly, the sincerity in Quattro’s voice disarming. “I didn’t…I mean, I just kept trying, you know? I couldn’t let everything be for nothing.”

“And you didn’t.” Quattro’s expression turned more serious, the smirk gone. “You pulled all of us back–Vector, the Barians…even me and my brothers. And somehow, we all came out better because of it.”

He paused, then shot a sideways glance toward Shark. “...Except maybe Reginald. That’s still up for debate.”

Rio couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, and Shark shot them both a scowl.

“That wasn’t just because of me, though,” Yuma added softly, his eyes sweeping over his friends gathered around the table, pausing a moment at Ray before returning his focus to Quattro. “Everyone chose to move forward. Together.”

Quattro let that settle before his gaze shifted toward Vector, seated comfortably beside Yuma. “You had the choice to stay the way you were,” he said, his voice more subdued now, before glancing at the other Barians around the table. “But you didn’t. None of you did. That says something.”

“What can I say?” Ray said smoothly, his smirk unmistakably Vector-esque. “I had the chance to join the winning team this time~”

“You had a chance last time too!” Yuma flailed.

“You just weren’t as convincing back then,” Ray teased, casting him a knowing look and a wink.

Yuma’s face immediately turned scarlet. But Quattro stepped in with impeccable timing, his voice dry and amused. “Anyway. Consider me officially back on the team. So when the next Shadow shows up–count me in. I wouldn’t mind settling the score with one. Especially Reginald’s. Sounds like the perfect shot at a rematch. And this time, I’m not losing.”

“Then welcome back to the team, Quattro!” Yuma beamed, the blush beginning to fade from his cheeks–until Ray leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek, sending the red rushing back just as fast.

A few chuckles rippled around the table at Yuma’s expense, but the warmth in the room had never felt stronger. Plates lay empty, drinks nearly gone, and the familiar glow of togetherness lingered like the last embers of a campfire–quiet, steady, and hard-earned.

Yuma let his gaze drift slowly across the table, taking in each familiar face. Friends once divided now sat side by side, smiling, relaxed. At peace. It was the kind of night he used to dream about–five years ago, when everything was still fractured and uncertain. Even after the battles were over, he hadn’t been sure something like this could ever really happen. Time had pulled them in different directions, and with it came doubt: responsibilities, distance and the near-loss of Ray when the Shadows of the Barian Emperors emerged…

But tonight had proved those doubts wrong.

Gratitude welled up in his chest–delayed, maybe, but no less sincere. Before he even realized it, Yuma rose to his feet and lifted his glass. “Hey,” he called, loud enough to gently cut through the remaining conversation. “Before the night ends…”

The group turned to him, attention settling as the last of the chatter died down.

“I just wanted to say–thank you. For being here. For staying. For everything.”

He paused, looking to Ray first, then to the others gathered around him. “Here’s to many more dinners like this–among friends. No matter where we started…or where we’re going next.”

A beat of silence followed–soft, full of unspoken agreement–before the first glass rose.

“To many more,” Rio echoed with a warm smile.

“I’ll drink to that,” Shark added, smirking faintly as he raised his glass.

Dumon nodded with calm agreement. “It’s a future worth toasting.”

“You better mean it,” Kotori teased, smirking over her cup.

“We all know where he lives,” Alito added with a grin, clinking his glass against hers. “He’s not getting out of seeing us anymore.”

Quattro tilted his glass slightly, eyes fixed on Yuma. “You really haven’t changed, huh?” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and quiet respect. “Still dragging people together whether they like it or not. Though honestly…I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kite gave a small nod, his voice quieter but firm. “That’s just how Yuma is.”

Girag leaned back in his chair, lifting his drink lazily, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Could be worse,” he muttered. “There are worse places to end up than here with all you weirdos.”

Mizar didn’t raise his glass at first. He looked around the table slowly, blue eyes thoughtful–taking in the once-impossible unity before finally settling on Yuma. “…Then I will toast as well,” he said, voice quiet but resolute.

“That’s the spirit, Mizar!” Yuma beamed, only to be cut off by Ray’s voice coming in smooth and warm.

“Here’s to you, Yuma,” Ray said, lifting his glass with a knowing smile. “For bringing us all together–and for adding just the right amount of chaos to our lives.”

Laughter rippled around the table again–easy, genuine, and this time without any trace of tension. Just the shared warmth of a moment that had once felt out of reach. And a promise that it wouldn’t be the last.

The night carried on in a gentle blur of laughter, small conversations, and the occasional clink of glass against glass. Plates were cleared, chairs scraped softly against the floor, and the once-bustling table gradually emptied as friends began saying their goodbyes. Some lingered at the doorway, reluctant to part just yet, while others drifted off into the quiet of the evening in twos and threes, comfortable in their silence. The candlelight had burned low, the air now filled more with memory rather than sound. It wasn’t grand or dramatic–but it didn’t need to be. It was the kind of night that would stay with them forever.

Later on, after Yuma and Ray had returned home–and once the house had gone quiet and the last of the evening’s glow had faded into the dark–Yuma found himself on the rooftop of the Tsukumo residence, the sky stretching wide and endless above him. He leaned back, gazing up at the stars, breathing in the calm of the night, the warmth of the dinner still lingering in his chest.

His distant thoughts were gently interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps padding across the rooftop–familiar and steady. Ray’s quiet presence joined him, slipping easily into the peace of the moment. “Can I sit with you?” Ray asked.

Yuma’s gaze parted from the stars, his red eyes meeting Ray’s purple ones. “You never have to ask,” he said, patting the space beside him.

Ray took the invitation and sank down at Yuma’s side. They sat in stillness for a while, the kind that didn’t need words–just warmth, closeness, and the quiet understanding that they were safe here, together. Yuma leaned his head against Ray’s shoulder, and Ray responded by wrapping an arm around him. “Can’t believe we finally got to go out with everyone,” Yuma murmured.

“Yeah,” Ray said with a faint smile. “Tonight was more real than any of us expected.”

Yuma nodded, shifting closer into Ray’s embrace. He reached for Ray’s hand, their fingers lacing together with ease. “For a while, I was scared this would never happen.”

“But you still hoped.”

“...Always.”

Yuma’s free hand lifted to lightly grasp Ray’s Baria Crystal. His touch was careful, reverent. “I kept telling myself you’d come back. That we’d find a way. That things could be different.”

Ray pressed a soft kiss to Yuma’s head. “And now that they are–is different good?”

“Of course it is,” Yuma said, without hesitation. His voice dropping to a quieter note. “I just hope this new ZEXAL power will be enough...to protect you.”

Yuma turned his gaze back to the stars, the Baria Crystal still cradled in his hand. The gentle rhythm of Ray’s heartbeat beneath his ear grounding him, as if the world had finally slowed enough to catch up with his own heart. “No matter what’s coming next...” he said softly, almost to himself. “I won’t let us lose this. Not again.”

Ray gave his hand a light squeeze—no words needed.

And for that moment, under the quiet watch of the night sky, that promise felt like enough.

Chapter Text

The soft morning light spilled through the wide window, casting a warm glow over the rectangular dining table where Yuma, Ray, Akari, and Haru sat. The table was neatly arranged with bowls of steamed rice, gently steaming miso soup, grilled salmon, natto, and pickled vegetables—a simple, comforting breakfast spread.

Haru smiled as she poured green tea into delicate cups. “We missed the extra help in the kitchen,” she said with a small, knowing glance at Ray.

“I’ll be here to help anytime,” Ray replied brightly, accepting his cup with both hands.

“Then we’ll definitely take you up on that,” Akari added, shooting a look toward her brother. “It’s not like Yuma is much help.”

“Hey! I help sometimes too–”

“Sure,” Akari cut in, unimpressed. “If you count 'helping' as sneaking bites before it’s even plated.”

Ray stifled a laugh, and Haru chuckled softly behind her cup.

“Anyway,” Akari continued, tilting her head toward Yuma with mock sternness. “Don’t you think it’d be nice to do something thoughtful for Ray?”

“It’s okay, Akari,” Ray said, stepping in gently before Yuma could flail too much. “Yuma’s done more for me than I could ever ask. So have both of you. I hope I can repay that kindness.”

“You do plenty already, Ray,” Akari said with a sigh. “I just wish your manners would rub off on Yuma.”

Yuma shot her a glare, but before he could retort, Akari reminded him of the food. “Anyway, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Yuma, choosing to avoid an argument, eagerly reached for his rice bowl, eyes already fixed on the grilled salmon when a knock echoed from the front door.

He froze mid-reach, exchanging a puzzled look with Ray. There was no real need for anyone to be coming around to check on him anymore–not that a surprise visit was unwelcome. But were they supposed to be expecting anyone today?

“I’ll get it,” Ray offered, already rising from his seat.

But Haru waved him down gently, surprising everyone with her swiftness. “You all sit. I’ll answer it–no need to let breakfast get cold.”

As the others watched her disappear down the hall, Yuma leaned toward Ray, whispering, “Did I forget I made plans with someone today?”

Ray shook his head, his voice soft but certain. “There were no discussions at dinner last night for a further meet-up.”

A moment later, Haru’s voice floated back from the hall, light and surprised. “Oh my, Hart! What a nice surprise this early in the morning.”

For a beat, there was silence, and then Yuma shot up in shock. “Hart?! Like Kite’s brother?!”

Akari sighed, her hand moving to her forehead in exasperation. “Do you know anyone else with that name? Honestly, little bro, how do you function?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all!” Yuma said, now on his feet and moving toward the hall. “I hope everything’s okay.”

Ray rose beside him, exchanging a knowing glance with Yuma as they both headed for the front door.

A few moments later, Hart’s form came into view. His light blue hair fell neatly to the sides of his face, and his golden yellow eyes–wide and earnest shone with a mix of curiosity and something else, a little hesitation perhaps. His posture was stiff but not from a lack of confidence; it seemed more like he was trying to muster up the courage for something. “Hi! Good-morning, Yuma!” Hart greeted, offering a hesitant smile. He looked a bit out of place, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but clearly wanted to be here.

Hart stepped carefully inside, removing his shoes as Haru moved aside with a kind smile to let him in.

Yuma and Ray met him in the hallway, Yuma’s face lighting up instantly. “Morning, Hart! Is everything okay? Is Kite alright?”

Ray smiled as well from his side. “You’re welcome to join us–we’ve just started breakfast.”

“I’m okay. And Kite is...mostly okay,” Hart said, his golden eyes flicking briefly to the floor. “I just...needed to talk to you.”

Haru smiled softly her voice warm and inviting as she started back towards the kitchen. “I’ll set another place. Come in and sit, Hart–you must be hungry.”

Ray followed after her to help pull an extra chair for the table, while Yuma guided Hart back to the dining room. Once seated, Hart fidgeted with his sleeves a little, clearly working up the courage to say something. He drew a breath slowly, steadying himself. “My brother...is the reason why I came.”

Hart remembered the days after Kite’s duel at Heartland Elite Academy of Sciences & Duel Arts (HEASDA)–how his brother had come back distant, his usual sharp focus replaced by a kind of quiet turmoil. The mention of Mizar’s name by Orbital 7 had seemed like an innocent comment at the time–just another moment for Orbital 7 to share Kite's victory with Hart. But now Hart couldn’t shake the thought: why had Kite fought alongside Mizar? He’d never heard the full story, but seeing the way his brother’s gaze drifted when he thought no one was looking… It didn’t seem like just rivalry anymore. There was something more. Something unsaid between them.

And that was when the idea of the letter first crept into Hart’s mind–quiet but persistent. He didn’t know exactly what he was hoping to find, or how he could help, but he knew something needed to change.

Yuma leaned forward a bit, nodding gently, his expression already softening with understanding. “What about Kite?” He asked, calm and encouraging. “You said he’s mostly okay–what’s going on?”

Hart’s hands curled in his lap. “It’s like he’s...hurting. He’s been distant lately. Quiet and sad, like something’s eating away at him.”

Yuma’s brows pinched slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face–but not confusion. If anything, he seemed to already know what Hart was leading up to.

“I want to help him,” Hart continued, his voice small but sincere. “I think he’s struggling with feelings he doesn’t know how to express. So... I thought maybe, if he had something to say–but couldn’t say it out loud, I could help him write it.”

Ray blinked, curiosity lighting his features. “You want to help him write a letter?”

Hart nodded. “A love letter.”

Akari paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. “Wait. You want Yuma to write a love letter?”

Yuma rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’ve got experience now!”

Ray laughed lightly, already catching on. “A love letter…to who?”

Hart bit his lip and hesitated, glancing between them all–and then quietly, carefully said, “To Mizar.”

The room held still for a beat. Akari looked stunned. While Ray blinked, surprised–but not entirely. He hadn’t been there to see Kite and Mizar interact much, but the tension between them last night at the restaurant had been...noticeable. Even so, a love letter wasn’t what he expected.

As for Yuma, he didn’t even blink. Instead, he gave a small, knowing nod. “That makes sense.”

Akari gaped. “You’re not surprised?”

Yuma smiled faintly, nudging his rice bowl aside. “I’ve known for a while,” Yuma said softly. “Back when Kite was recovering from that Duel with Mizar’s Shadow…he asked me how I knew I was in love with Ray.”

He paused, his smile turning a little wistful. “It wasn’t just curiosity. He said Mizar frustrated him. That he couldn’t stop thinking about him–and not just in a rivalry way. That Mizar had gone out of his way for him. Twice.”

Yuma looked at Hart, voice warm. “He was talking about love. He just didn’t know how to say it.”

Hart’s expression eased a little, though concern still lingered in his eyes. “I know my brother will feel better once he puts his feelings out there...but he just doesn’t know how.”

Ray chuckled, brushing his fingers against his cup. “Sounds familiar.”

Akari sighed dramatically, but not unkindly. “What is it with you three and your hopeless emotional flailing?”

Haru returned to the table with a plate of food for Hart and a fresh pot of tea. “They’re learning,” she said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Hart looked around at them all, his nervousness softening under their warmth. “So...will you help me?”

Yuma’s grin widened. “Of course we will. We’ll help you write the best love letter Mizar’s ever seen!”

Hart’s shoulders relaxed with visible relief, a small but genuine smile tugging at his mouth.

“Let me grab some paper and pens,” Ray offered, already rising from the table.

“I think we still have some special stationery tucked away,” Haru added, heading toward the hallway. “Something a little special might help the words stand out.”

“Oh no,” Akari groaned playfully, watching them both go. “We’re not giving this thing sparkles or floral borders, right?”

“What if Mizar likes floral borders?” Yuma shot back, clearly not ruling it out.

“I highly doubt he does,” Akari replied flatly.

Ray returned first with a small writing pad, a mechanical pencil, and a couple of pens setting them down in the center of the table. A moment later, Haru reappeared with a slim folder and carefully pulled out a sheet of pale blue paper–scattered with a faint silver star motif that shimmered slightly when it caught the light.

“This okay?” She asked, offering it to Hart.

Hart’s eyes widened, his fingers brushing over the page delicately. “It’s perfect. My brother and Mizar’s dragons fit with a space theme… He might actually appreciate the detail.”

“Stars?” Yuma blinked, then broke into a grin. “That’s perfect. It’s like... a galaxy romance vibe!”

Akari groaned. “Please never say that phrase again.”

Ray smiled, handing Hart a pencil. “We’ll draft it first, then transfer it over to the star paper once we’ve got it sounding right.”

“Right!” Hart exclaimed, taking the pencil with newfound determination.

Hart sat up straighter, pencil poised just above the paper, eyes flicking from the shimmering silver stars on the stationery to the expectant faces around the table. “So…” He began. “What do you think we should start with?”

Yuma leaned forward eagerly, clearly taking the task far more seriously than Akari expected. “Maybe something direct! Like, ‘In your Galaxy-Eyes, I see my future!’”

Akari blinked. “We are not putting that in the letter.”

Ray tilted his head thoughtfully. “Though…it would be on brand for Kite to mention something about their Galaxy-Eyes.”

Akari crossed her arms. “Fine, we’ll workshop something in. But you’re all forgetting the most important part–you can’t just start like that. You need to ease into it. Something like, ‘I’ve been reflecting on our last duel.’ Something neutral.”

Ray nodded in agreement. “That might help the letter feel more authentic–like it’s really coming from Kite.”

Yuma groaned. “Fine, fine…but we are getting to the dramatic part, right?”

“Eventually,” Akari said with a smirk.

Hart glanced between them, caught somewhere between amused and overwhelmed. “Okay. How about… ‘Mizar, ever since our last duel, there’s been something I’ve been trying to understand.’”

Ray leaned in, his expression thoughtful. “That’s good. It’s honest and it opens the door.”

Yuma nodded enthusiastically. “Now add something like–‘When we fought side by side, I thought I understood what I was feeling. But afterward… I realized there was more I didn’t understand at all.’”

Hart scribbled the lines down quickly, quietly repeating the words to himself. Then he paused. “Should I mention…that Kite can’t stop thinking about him?”

Akari snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

Ray considered the question, then said, “You could phrase it like, ‘Your presence continues to echo in my thoughts.’ It’s subtle, but poetic.”

Hart nodded, his golden eyes shining with determination as he jotted the line down.

As the page filled with words, the group leaned in close, passing the pencil between them as they tweaked and adjusted lines together. Every now and then someone would suggest something that sent the others into laughter–or into a spirited debate over whether Kite would actually use that kind of phrasing.

And slowly, the skeleton of a letter began to take shape–halting, awkward, but undeniably heartfelt. Once they were satisfied, Ray copied the final version onto the pale blue, star-scattered stationery. His strokes were careful, precise–each word deliberate, like he understood just how much it might mean.

Once everything was finalized Ray set the final letter down in front of Hart with a quiet nod. “There,” he said, voice soft. “It’s all yours now.”

Hart stared at it for a moment, fingertips brushing over the pale blue paper. The silver stars catching the light, shimmering faintly like something alive. He took a breath. Then, almost in a whisper, he began to read it aloud–perhaps more to himself than anyone else:

“Mizar,

Ever since our last Duel, something has lingered in my thoughts—like the afterimage of starlight. I believed it would fade. Just another moment, another battle, another name added to memory.

But it hasn’t.

When we stood side by side, I thought I understood my place–clear as light, unwavering as my resolve. But your presence disrupted that clarity.

You, who command Time, made me question things I had never paused to consider. Myself, my purpose and you.

Our dragons, Galaxy-Eyes Photon and Tachyon are forces destined to oppose. Light and Time should not exist in harmony. And yet, during that Duel…they did. Just once. And that moment has echoed through me ever since.

I cannot name this feeling. I only know that it exists. You’ve left a gravity in me that won’t let go.

Your presence lingers like a star still visible long after its light should have faded.

Maybe this letter is nothing. Or maybe it is everything. But the silence between us has grown too heavy to bear.

If any part of you wonders the same…

Meet me where stars still shine.

–Kite”

When the final words left his lips, the room was still.

Akari exhaled slowly. “Well...damn. Still can’t believe my little bro contributed to that–though I guess Grandma, Ray, and I did most of the heavy lifting...”

“HEY!”

Ray chuckled softly before turning his focus to Hart. “Well, Hart?” he asked gently.

“It’s perfect!” Hart beamed. “...Now my brother can be happy. With this, there’s no way Mizar can resist!”

There was so much hope in his young voice, his eyes sparkling with delight. Haru moved over from her place and gently took the letter, folding it with care into an envelope before returning it to Hart. His hands cradling it carefully, his smile bright and unwavering.

Hart slowly rose from his seat, the envelope held carefully in both hands like it was something sacred. He bowed slightly to Haru, then to Akari, Ray, and finally to Yuma, his expression glowing with gratitude. “Thank you. All of you,” he said, voice quiet but firm.

Yuma walked him to the door–Ray remaining at his side–as he offered a quick pat on Hart’s shoulder. “You’ve got this. Kite’s lucky to have you.”

Hart nodded, slipping on his shoes and stepping out into the morning light. The sun was higher now, casting gold across the quiet street.

With the letter safely tucked in hand, Hart took a deep breath–and walked forward.

Chapter Text

The warmth of the morning sun was encouraging as Hart set out. He could’ve asked Yuma and Ray to come along for the delivery, but this was his big brother–so Hart couldn’t help but feel the rest was up to him. They had already helped enough crafting the letter, so the least Hart could do was handle the delivery himself. He just hoped Kite wouldn’t be upset that he hadn’t read it over first. But given how much Kite had struggled to express those feelings, Hart figured perhaps…being the bridge between them was the only way to help.

Maybe then Kite would smile more, and maybe–just maybe–that pain inside would stop eating at his brother.

Hart’s grip tightened slightly around the envelope, the pale blue paper rustling softly between his fingers. So much was riding on this. But just as quickly as he’d clenched it, his hand relaxed–and the letter slipped as he was startled by a sharp bark that tore through the air. A blur of fur darting past–a dog, eyes gleaming snatching the envelope clean from Hart’s hand. “Wait! That’s mine!” Hart shouted, his feet already moving as the dog bolted ahead, tail wagging like this was all a game.

He chased it through the winding streets, into the outer edge of the market district–now busy with morning shoppers. Hart weaving through the crowd, heart pounding, eyes locked on the letter fluttering in the dog’s mouth. He was closing in–just a few more steps–when a sudden thud knocked him back hard. Hart fell onto his back with a soft grunt, blinking up as a familiar silhouette blocked out the sun. Golden yellow eyes widening as he registered the long blond hair. The wing-shaped extension. And the striking blue eyes. “Mizar!?”

This moment could’ve been perfect–if Hart still possessed the letter he meant to hand-deliver. He’d even been going over what to say when the time came. But now, standing here empty-handed and breathless, it felt like the universe had played a cruel joke. The letter–the one thing that mattered, was gone. Torn away in a blur of barking fur and vanishing into the morning crowd. And now, here he was without it.

The Barian stood tall in front of him, blue eyes watching with faint curiosity. Hart froze, caught between panic and frustration. He barely registered the fall–only the growing ache of failure in his chest. But before he could scramble up, a hand extended toward him. Hart blinked for a moment, then accepted it without a word.

Mizar didn’t speak right away. He simply helped Hart to his feet in one smooth motion, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “You know me,” he said evenly. “But I don’t know you.”

“Of course I do,” Hart replied, straightening a little. “I watched your Duel with my brother.”

Mizar stilled. The recognition following quickly as he connected the pieces. “...Kite’s brother?”

“Yeah,” Hart nodded. “I’m Hart.”

A pause. Then–surprisingly, a short exhale that might have been a laugh. “Figures,” Mizar muttered. “Same stubborn resolve.”

Hart flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh, crash into you like that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mizar said, already scanning the crowd. “You were chasing something?”

Hart hesitated, weighing whether to explain. But maybe it was better this way–if Mizar stayed close, the letter could go right to him as soon as it was recovered. “Yeah. A letter. It’s really important–”

Mizar’s gaze lingered on Hart for a moment longer than necessary, his piercing blue eyes softening just the slightest. For all his detached composure, there was something about the way Hart looked–desperation, maybe–that caused a flicker of something in him. A shift. He could leave Hart to the chaos, but for some reason, he didn’t. “Then I will help you recover it,” Mizar said, cutting gently across his sentence.

Hart blinked at the Barian, surprised by how quickly he’d offered help. “You will?” he asked, breath catching a little.

Mizar gave a short nod, his expression calm but resolute. “If it matters to you, then it matters.”

Hart smiled, a flicker of hope returning. “Thank you.”

“We’ll start from here,” Mizar said, already turning to scan the market crowd again. “Describe the dog.”

Hart gave a quick, awkward laugh. “Small. Brown. Fast. And really determined.”

Mizar raised a brow. “A worthy opponent, then.”

And with that, the two of them moved forward–one searching for a letter, the other still unaware it was meant for him.

***

Steam drifted lazily from the open kitchen as Alito waved at the hostess and stepped inside–though not without calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll grab us a table! I’m starving!”

Still outside, Girag sighed and stretched, just about to follow–when something wet and furry brushed against his leg. “Huh?”

A small brown dog sat at his feet, tongue lolling, tail wagging like mad. It gave a happy bark and bumped its head against Girag’s leg. The Barian blinked, then slowly knelt and gave it a cautious pat. “You lost, buddy?”

The dog yipped again, leaned into the scratch, then–with a shake of its head dropped a soggy envelope by Girag’s boot before bounding off into the crowd. Leaving Girag only to stare after it in confusion. “...Wonder what that was about.”

He picked up the envelope gingerly. The silver-starred paper was soaked, the ink smeared—but one line still stood out: ‘…I only know that it exists. You’ve left a gravity in me that won’t let go…’

His brow furrowed. Glancing after the dog one last time before turning his attention back to the restaurant. “Hey!” Alito’s voice echoed from inside. “You ordering or what?!”

Girag grunted, turned the envelope over once more, and sighed. “Figures.”

He stepped in and dropped into the seat beside Alito, holding out the letter. “Think this might be for you.”

Alito blinked. “Huh? What’s that?”

“Found it outside. Looks like one of those sappy things couples might exchange. Since you and Kotori are a thing, figured it might be from her.”

Alito took the letter, eyes skimming the ruined lines. The faint shimmer of silver stars caught the light. His confusion shifting to awe–then full-on delight.

“Girag…” he breathed.

Girag raised an eyebrow.

“This is the greatest thing ever. So simple. So heartfelt. Tori really is the best.”

“Speaking of Kotori,” Girag remarked, nudging his friend as she entered to meet them.

“Hey!” Alito exclaimed, waving her over.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said softly, offering a sweet, affectionate kiss on Alito’s cheek before sitting beside him.

“Well, you’re here now—that’s all that matters,” Alito replied brightly.

The trio settled into place and ordered their respective dishes at some point the letter becoming forgotten amidst the shuffle of bowls and conversation. Eventually, Alito stood and stretched. “I’m gonna go grab us some melon bread for the walk back,” he said, already heading for the counter.

Girag followed with a grumble about carbs, and the two left ahead. Kotori taking a moment to reach for her purse when the waitress called out behind her. “Excuse me–miss? I think your group left this behind.”

Kotori turned, and the woman offered her the damp, star-patterned letter. It was a little crumpled now, the ink still blurred from both the puddle and the steam of the noodles–but still readable. “Oh,” Kotori murmured, accepting it.

She unfolded it slowly. A few words caught her eye: ‘…I only know that it exists. You’ve left a gravity in me that won’t let go.’

In that moment, her breath hitched, and her heart rate spiked. Was this…for her? Had Alito written this? She scanned a few more fragments: ‘…Light and Time should not exist in harmony…’

‘…but they did. Just once.’

Her hands trembled slightly as she thought back to something she’d noticed earlier–something in Alito’s grasp on the table while they ate. Had he been meaning to slip this into her belongings, especially since there was a location indicated to meet later tonight? Her cheeks flushed as she stepped outside to join the others.

But just as she did–a strong breeze swept down the street. The letter slipping from her fingers, the wind catching the damp paper like a fragile kite, spiraling it away.

And just like that, it was gone…

***

Bronk cruised down the sunlit street on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair and the steady rhythm of wheels clicking against the pavement calming his thoughts. That was until something fluttered toward him, catching his eyes and forcing him to skid to a stop.

A soggy, crumpled paper lay at his feet causing him to blink a few times, before bending down to pick it up–squinting to read the blurred words. The faint shimmer of stars barely visible beneath the grime. “Wait–this couldn’t be from–Rio!?” he muttered, surprise mixing with confusion.

Shoving his skateboard under one arm, Bronk studied the letter more closely. The handwriting was elegant, poetic–something Rio might write. But that only deepened his confusion. “Isn’t she with Quattro…?” He whispered to himself.

Before he could think more, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts. “What about me?”

Bronk jumped, dropping the letter as Quattro and Rio appeared, strolling casually toward him hand in hand. Their presence making his heart race and all but confirming his suspicion. This letter had to be from Rio. Maybe she was trying to send him a signal. Maybe she’d finally realized Quattro wasn’t who she wanted. Yet, with a location mentioned in the letter, now definitely wasn’t the time for a confrontation. “It’s nothing,” Bronk said quickly, unhooking his skateboard from under his arm. “I gotta go!”

He dropped the board and dashed off before Rio could call after him. “Hey, Bronk!?”

She paused, puzzled, exchanging a glance with Quattro. Then her pink eyes landed on the piece of paper left behind, fluttering gently on the ground. Quattro was the first to crouch down and pick it up, his brows already furrowing as he scanned the damp, star-speckled page. Rio stepped in closer, leaning in as his shoulders stiffened. “You’ve left a gravity in me that won’t let go…” he read aloud, the words coming slow and cautious. “Light and Time shouldn’t exist in harmony...but they did.”

Quattro’s voice darkened. “Are you kidding me?”

Rio’s expression shifted from being curious to startled. “Is that…” She blinked. “...A love letter? From Bronk?”

“To you.” Quattro growled, already crumpling the letter in his fist.

Rio’s heart sank. “But I already told him how I feel. He knows where I stand.”

“You were clear. I know.” Quattro’s voice was low, but steady. “And now he pulls this? Dropping poetry like it’s some kind of secret message?”

“It doesn’t sound like him, not exactly…” Rio murmured, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe he didn’t write it. Or maybe–maybe it wasn’t even meant for me?”

Quattro didn’t answer immediately. He only turned the paper over again. “Doesn’t matter. He saw us, he left it and he wanted you to think it was.”

Rio placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Quattro…”

His jaw clenched, but he met her gaze. “We’ll talk to him,” she said firmly. “Together, this time.”

After a long moment, he exhaled and nodded. “Fine. But if he tries anything–”

“He won’t,” Rio said gently. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Quattro didn’t argue. With a final glance at the ruined paper, he walked over and tossed the crumpled letter into the nearby bin before leading Rio away. Neither noticed as two more figures rounded the corner onto the street–Nasch and Dumon, quietly chatting as they strolled.

Nasch slowed mid-step, his sharp blue eyes narrowing on the trash can. Something about the way Quattro had discarded the paper with that extra bit of force–irked him. And unfortunately, curiosity had always been one of his more dangerous traits. Without a word, he reached into the bin.

Dumon blinked, clearly caught off guard. “...Nasch?”

Nasch fished out the crumpled, damp letter, frowning as he unfolded it. His eyes darting across the water-streaked page, reading quickly. Slowly…his eyebrow twitched and then his left eye.

Dumon stepped closer, peering curiously at the page from over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Nasch’s grip tightened. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

Nasch crumpled the letter anew, teeth clenched. “The nerve of him. Rio goes out of her way to write a heartfelt love letter, and Quattro just tosses it out like it’s garbage?”

Dumon blinked. “Wait–what?”

“I’m serious,” Nasch said, voice low but heated. The frustration wasn’t aimed at Dumon–if anything, it was protective, righteous. “If that smug ass thinks he can ignore her like this… He’s about to get a very loud reminder that you don’t treat people that way. Especially not my sister.”

Dumon sighed softly, hand brushing Nasch’s arm to steady him. “You’re making assumptions again, my love…”

“I read the letter!”

“Barely. The ink was half-melted.”

“That’s not the point!”

Dumon gently placed a hand on Nasch’s arm, grounding him. “Nasch, please. We’ll talk to him–but don’t be brash. We don’t possess all the details to go in with assumptions.”

Nasch remained silent, clearly stewing.

“Besides,” Dumon added calmly, “Marin is strong. If something were truly wrong, she’d speak up. You know that.”

There was no answer right away, but the tension in Nasch’s shoulders eased just slightly. His hand loosening its grip on the crumpled paper. “I just don’t want to see her hurt,” he muttered.

“I know,” Dumon said gently, brushing his fingers against Nasch’s. “Neither do I.”

Nasch let out a frustrated breath, the paper crumpled resting in his fist. “This whole thing is ridiculous…”

“Agreed,” Dumon said softly, sensing Nasch was starting to cool. “Now maybe just let it go–literally.”

With a grumble, Nasch turned back toward the trash can, arm pulling back to toss the soggy paper back where it came from. But just as he moved to release it–Fwosh. A sudden gust of wind swept in catching the paper mid-arc. The letter spinning upward in a flutter of star-dappled streaks and blurred ink.

Nasch cursed. “Seriously?!”

Dumon blinked, watching as the letter twirled through the air like a paper bird, disappearing out of sight–but not out of mind.

Far above them, the familiar buzzing of Orbital 7 echoed faintly–followed by a sharp voice: “Orbital, stabilize your pitch!”

Kite soared overhead, clearly annoyed by his mechanical companion’s erratic flight pattern. As he angled toward a nearby rooftop, a glint of silver fluttering upward caught his eyes–SMACK.

The letter hit him square in the face. “Gah—!?”

“MASTER KITE—Incoming object! Deploying shields—too late! Apologies, Master Kite!”

Kite yanked the damp, star-speckled envelope off himself, already scowling. He righted himself mid-air, gloved fingers unfolding the crumpled page. It sagged in his grip, water-stained and warped, but the ink had left just enough behind to catch his eye: ‘…a gravity in me that won’t let go…’

‘Light and Time shouldn’t exist in harmony...but they did.’

Kite’s breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His heart hammered in his chest as he reread the words–‘Light and Time should not exist in harmony…but they did.’ Was this a direct reference to Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon–wait could this be from Mizar to him? But even with the recognition came doubt creeping in. The letter felt too raw, too vulnerable. Not something Mizar would write, but something in him couldn’t dismiss the possibility. Could he trust this? Or was it a cruel misinterpretation?

Mizar didn’t seem like someone who would use flowery metaphors or poetic confessions. He fought with action, not words. This kind of raw, exposed feeling…it wasn’t him. At least, not the version Kite knew and perhaps that was the cruelest part of it–if this letter wasn’t from Mizar, then he was reading something meant for someone else. Misinterpreting hope and chasing a dream not meant for him. But if it was from Mizar–if even a piece of it was real, then maybe he didn’t know everything there was to know about the man after all. Maybe Mizar had been trying to reach him in the only way he could and Kite had simply missed it before.

A hush settled inside his chest, a flicker of something he’d long tried to silence–hope, maybe, unfolded quietly in the space between breaths. “Master Kite?” Orbital 7’s voice chirped cautiously, sensing the shift. “Are you alright, sir?”

Kite turned the letter over, looking at the location scrawled at the bottom, a small part of him wanting to believe it. A larger part told him it was reckless, to think this could be real, that it could be the beginning of something… Kite’s gaze hardened. He couldn’t afford to second-guess anymore. If this was real, if it was his chance to finally understand Mizar, then he couldn’t let it slip away. Illogical or not the decision snapped into place. “Change course.”

“Where to, sir?”

Chapter Text

The sky had cooled to a deep indigo by the time Hart and Mizar reached the edge of Nova Rise. What started as a winding shortcut back toward the main road had curved into a quiet overlook–far enough from the city that the stars were starting to peek through the dusk, soft and scattered like spilled silver.

Nova Rise wasn’t far from Heartland City’s edge, but it always felt like stepping out of the world. A quiet hilltop, tucked behind rows of sycamores and wildflowers, its only real claim to fame was the vast, uninterrupted view of the stars. No billboards. No humming streetlamps. Just open sky, deep and clear, where constellations carved stories into the dark.

The air was cooler up here, carrying the crisp edge of the looming nightfall. The breeze rustling through the ring of trees that circled the hill, and the tall grass swayed gently around their legs like a low tide beneath the growing night. Even in silence, the place had weight. A stillness that invited honesty.

From where they stood, Heartland City looked distant and soft–its usual neon glow blurred by the miles. Just a hazy skyline nestled beneath a slowly darkening sky.

Mizar stepped ahead, boots silent on the grass. “Strange,” he said, glancing upward. “You can actually see the stars from here.”

Hart swallowed hard, trailing just behind him. “Yeah. That’s the point of this spot!”

Mizar turned, raising a brow. “Have you been here before?”

Hart’s eyes glanced away. “A few times. With my brother and my dad.”

That was an understatement, he’d helped choose this place. This was after all where Mizar was supposed to be standing–alone, waiting for his brother. If the letter had ever made it. A place chosen perfectly for the two Galaxy-Eyes Masters and yet only one had ended up here–and unintentionally at that. Hart not even certain how exactly they’d got turned around in their search enough to even make it here. And yet, it didn’t erase the irony that hit him like a stone in his stomach. He didn’t even know whether to panic, or just sink down in defeat at this point, feeling as though he’d failed Kite.

Mizar tilted his head. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hart said quickly. “It’s just...funny. We weren’t supposed to end up here.”

“Then maybe we were,” Mizar said, simply.

Hart looked at him, startled. But Mizar had already turned back to the horizon, his gaze fixed on the stars slowly bleeding into view. A pause passing between them, before Mizar spoke. “Will Kite not be worried with your absence?”

“I told him I was spending the day with Yuma,” Hart responded, his own eyes gazing up at the sky now too.

Mizar nodded once, as if that was answer enough. “...I don’t believe we will find your missing letter, but when you are ready I will see to you getting home safely.”

This time Hart nodded, in response. And for a long moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves, and the quiet rise of wind across the grass.

Then–footsteps.

Someone else was coming.

Mizar turned sharply, instinct drawing him protectively in front of Hart. His posture tensed, ready–until recognition flickered in his eyes, and the tension eased. From the shadows of the path, Alito stepped into view. He was dressed a bit more sharply than usual–shirt crisp, hair tamed just enough to hint at added effort. In one hand, he held a small bouquet of flowers. And whatever this had started as, it wasn’t a casual stroll.

But just as Mizar hadn’t expected anyone to appear, Alito clearly hadn’t expected to find them either. “MIZAR?!” Alito yelped, eyes wide as saucers. “What are you doing here?!”

“I was assisting Hart in recovering a lost letter,” Mizar said, his voice calm but flat with that usual cool precision.

“Wait–does that mean you found the letter?!” Hart cut in, hope sparking in his voice.

Alito froze. The question hitting him hard. For a long time, he just…stared–first at Hart, then at Mizar, then down at the flowers in his hand. And then the dots began to connect. “Oh. Oh no.”

He looked between them again, eyes widening further. “Wait. Wait. Don’t tell me the letter you lost was–that letter.”

Hart’s stomach dropped. “You’ve seen it?!”

Alito looked like he wanted to melt into the grass. “Uhh. Yeah, about that…”

Mizar’s eye brow raised. “Explain.”

Alito was just opening his mouth–ready to explain how Girag had found the letter, how he’d assumed–naturally–that it had come from Kotori, and how he’d spent the day believing he was about to have a perfect romantic moment–when the universe delivered yet another surprise.

“Hart? Mizar?” Kotori’s voice rang out, calm but clearly puzzled.

She approached with an easy stride–confident, put-together, and clearly having gone the extra mile tonight. But her expression shifted quickly from pleased to perplexed as she took in the full scene. “...Will someone please explain what’s going on here?”

Alito spun on his heel. “Wait–Tori? So you wrote the letter?!”

Kotori blinked. “I didn’t write anything.”

Alito flinched. “Wait, what? Then how did you know to come here?”

This time she raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wrote it.”

“I–I did,” Hart cut in, voice small but firm. “Well…sort of. I had help from Yuma, Ray, Akari and Mrs.Haru. But–” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It wasn’t meant for either of you.”

Kotori and Alito both stared, then blurted at the same time. “Yuma knows how to write a love letter?!”

Hart sank a little further in place. “Ray helped with the metaphors…”

They barely had time to digest that when the familiar clack of skateboard wheels broke the moment. A beat later, Bronk rolled into view, coming to a stop with practiced ease. He scooped up his board and slung it under his arm–eyes downcast, clearly rehearsing something under his breath. “Look, Rio… I just don’t think it would be appropriate for us to date so soon after–”

Bronk’s eyes finally lifted. “AH?!” He yelped like a caught criminal, arms flailing slightly as he took in the very not-Rio crowd standing at the top of the hill. “Wh-What are you all doing here?!”

Alito gave him a sympathetic look. “You got duped too, huh?”

Bronk’s eyes darted from Mizar to Kotori to Hart and then back to Alito. “Wait. So that letter wasn’t…?”

Hart shook his head. “Nope.”

“Definitely not,” Kotori added.

Hart opened his mouth, probably to apologize again–but that’s when the faint murmur of two more voices crested the rise behind them and then came Quattro and Rio, stepping into view. Quattro looking ready–eyes locked on Bronk like he was restraining himself from lunging. Rio’s expression, meanwhile, was more complicated–equal parts troubled and exhausted. “Bronk, you’ve got some nerve–”

Quattro didn’t even finish given he’d noticed the crowd. One by one, the rest of the group gave a hesitant wave or awkward nod–Alito, Kotori, Mizar, Hart and even Bronk joining in with a nervous grin like this was somehow normal. Whatever anger had been brimming in Quattro’s expression shifted instantly into sheer confusion. Rio blinking in her own confusion. “...Okay. What is going on?”

Hart’s hands went to his head in rising panic. “Just how many people read the letter?!”

Almost on cue, two more figures were storming up the path–Nasch in front, his pace brisk with fury, while Dumon followed close behind, clearly trying and failing to keep his partner from launching into a full confrontation. “QUATTRO!” Nasch barked, his voice slicing through the air like a duel announcement.

Everyone turned as Shark came into view, fists clenched, eyes blazing. “You thought I’d just let it slide when you treated Rio like that?!”

“Reginald, what are you talking about?!” Rio blurted, stepping forward.

“I read the letter you wrote!” Shark continued, barely breaking stride. “The one Quattro tossed in the trash like it was nothing–”

“Reginald, I didn’t write that letter!” Rio snapped.

And then–from somewhere near the middle of the group–a small, mortified voice came. “...I did,” Hart muttered.

Everything went still. Dumon placed a calming hand on Nasch’s arm, speaking gently. “See? I told you there was a logical explanation.”

Shark’s gaze whipped toward Hart, bewilderment replacing some of the heat. “Wait. You wrote it?”

Hart winced but nodded. “I had help. Yuma, Ray…even Mrs.Haru and Akari a little.”

Quattro’s brow furrowed, gaze sharp. “Then who was it for?”

Hart visibly wilted under the pressure, hesitating with a panicked look that made it clear he was just barely holding it together. His mouth opened–then closed again. But before the silence could stretch too long, Mizar gently placed a hand on Hart’s shoulder, grounding him. Hart looked up, golden eyes wide and uncertain, until he finally drew a deep breath and met Mizar’s calm, waiting gaze. “…It was meant for you.”

A collective gasp rippled through the group like a badly timed sound effect. “FOR MIZAR?!” Nearly everyone blurted at once.

Mizar blinked, once. “For me?” He echoed, as if double-checking his hearing.

Alito groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Man. I really did read someone else’s love letter.”

“You and me both,” Bronk muttered beside him, equally mortified.

Hart flushed a deep red, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Y-Yeah. It was supposed to be from—”

There was a sharp rise in sound–thrusters, loud and unmistakable–cutting through the evening stillness. Everyone froze, heads snapping toward the sky as the hum grew steadily closer. Kotori’s eyes widened first. “Wait. That sound…”

Bronk squinted upward. “That’s definitely Kite.”

Rio a bit quicker then the others blinked in realization, everything finally snapping into place. “Oh.”

But she wasn’t the only one. Kotori and Dumon shared the same sudden understanding, exchanging quick looks with her. A silent agreement passed between them. “I think it would be best,” Dumon said gently. “If we gave them some space.”

Without further explanation, Kotori and Rio sprang into motion, subtly nudging the others toward the trees lining the hill. Some needed more prodding than others–Alito looking particularly reluctant to surrender the front row seat but slowly, the group slipped away to find cover.

Mizar turned to follow–but Dumon caught his wrist, firm and calm. “Not you, my friend.”

Mizar gave him a confused glance, but Dumon simply offered a quiet smile. “I think there are things you and Kite still need to say.”

And then, just like that Mizar stood alone at the overlook. The briefest of moments passed though the silence that was still thick in the air, before the unmistakable voosh of Kite’s landing shattered it. The two Galaxy-Eyes Masters locking eyes, a heavy stillness settling between them, suffocating in its weight.

The silence only broken by the sputtering sound of Orbital 7 hitting the ground, its malfunctioning thrusters sending it tumbling unceremoniously to the dirt. But Kite didn’t so much as glance at his malfunctioning companion as he reached into his coat pocket, his fingers emerging with the now battered letter. “Did you write this?” Kite's voice was direct, his tone carrying the familiar sharpness of someone who had already made up their mind and was only waiting for confirmation.

For a moment, Mizar’s lips parted, his mind instinctively preparing to explain that the letter had been written by Hart, meant for him, albeit on behalf of someone else.

But then something stopped him.

His thoughts drifted back to the day spent with Hart—half lost, half desperately searching for a letter that had somehow passed through too many hands. He remembered Hart’s defeated expression when their search had failed, the quiet discomfort each time another person appeared, unaware of what the letter truly meant to him. And beneath the confusion, Mizar felt something stir—guilt? Sympathy? It was hard to say. Maybe even a hint of understanding, because while he hadn’t known the letter’s true purpose, he was starting to make sense of it as he stood there, facing Kite. The weight of the realization beginning to settle on him.

As well as the pressure of the moment–and what Kite was asking him now. His usual logical response fizzled out as his lips parted. A brief moment of hesitation lingering to stretch out the silence longer between them before his voice came. Something softer, almost vulnerable as he spoke. “And if I did?”

“Just as I thought there was no way–” Kite’s words faltered, his eyes narrowing as his brain caught up with what Mizar had actually said.

The words now hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on Kite’s chest. Stunning him into silence as his mind scrambled to process what was actually transpiring. This wasn’t just a challenge. There was something more. Something that felt…raw. Mizar wasn’t just asking; he was offering, something unspoken, fragile.

Kite’s heart raced, the pieces starting to fall into place. But then Mizar’s next words cut through the stillness with a quiet sharpness, like a blade veiled in silk. “Kite...what has been going on between us?”

Kite froze. It wasn’t just a question–it felt like an invitation to answer something he didn’t know how to articulate. Something he had been avoiding for some time now. This was no longer about a rivalry between Galaxy-Eyes–no longer simply about Dueling one another to determine who was more worthy.

For a long moment, Mizar didn’t look away, his gaze steady but unreadable. And Kite? Kite couldn’t look away either. The air around them felt thick, like the world itself was holding its breath but the intensity was not that of Rivals about to face off in a challenge. No Mizar looked like he was searching for something in Kite’s eyes. Something that might answer his question. “We were rivals once,” Mizar continued, his voice calm, but there was an edge to it now. A sense of finality. “And while I still consider you my most worthy adversary...you no longer seem to feel the same. Whether it was during the time we watched over Yuma, or at the restaurant it seems you’ve made it clear that I’m the problem.” Mizar’s lips tightened ever so slightly as he said the last part, almost like he wasn’t sure if it was the right conclusion, but still needed to be spoken.

“No!” Kite shot back, his words bursting out before he could control them. “Mizar, that’s not it at all!” He inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration beginning to overtake the confusion that had been swirling in his chest. “I don’t–” He paused, voice faltering, as the weight of his own feelings hit him again.

There it was. The thing he’d been avoiding, the truth that his feelings for Mizar weren’t just about rivalry anymore. A nagging realization that had been with him following the conclusion of the duel against Mizar’s Shadow, and only seemed to escalate–whether it was the quiet night in Yuma’s bedroom or their interaction at the restaurant. But could he even say it? Was he ready for that kind of change?

Once more, a heavy silence stretched between them, the air thick with unspoken things. Kite squeezed his eyes shut, his breath steadying as he collected his thoughts, then opened them again–his gaze unwavering as it locked onto Mizar. “I’m saying… I don’t want to be your rival anymore,” Kite's voice was quiet but firm, a quiet weight behind each word–as his hands remained clenched at his side. “At least, not in the way it was before.”

Mizar remained still, his expression unreadable, but his gaze sharp as ever. “Then what, Kite? What do you want from me, if not a rival?”

Kite’s chest tightened but he still took a bold step forward instinctively, as if closing the distance between them would help him understand his own feelings. Mizar’s eyes all the while remaining intently on his form, just watching and waiting. Offering Kite that patience for him to be able to speak but as he opened his mouth to explain, no words came. All the answers he had been searching for swirled just out of reach.

Then the sky cracked.

A sharp pulse of energy tearing through the stillness–violent, purple, unmistakably Barian. It descended like a spear, slicing through the dark above Heartland City–crashing into the skyline with a low, echoing boom. The stars vanishing behind the ripple it left behind, the peaceful night suddenly warped by power.

Orbital 7’s voice broke the silence, buzzing with static and urgency. “M-Master Kite! Energy spike detected–this one matches the Barian Shadows but the reading is…unprecedented!”

Mizar eyes were already scanning the horizon, his posture shifting into that familiar, tense readiness. But just before he could turn away, his gaze flickered back to Kite–long enough for the unspoken words, the ones that had been between them for so long, to hang in the air one last time.

Then the others emerged from the tree line, pulling Kite’s focus away, and the spell was broken. All with the same look of shock and tension etched across their faces. “How long have you all been here?” Kite asked, spinning to face them.

“Does it matter?” Quattro said, barely glancing his way. His eyes were fixed on the distant skyline, now stained violet at its edges. “That energy didn’t come here. It’s looking for someone else.”

Kite’s gaze swept across the group–and locked onto Hart, who stood with the group, eyes wide with fear. “Hart?... What are you doing here? Weren’t you visiting with Yuma?”

Hart shook his head slowly, voice faint. “I was only there in the morning…”

Kite’s stomach turned. He looked again at the missing faces–Yuma and Ray weren’t among them, nor was Girag. And yet Shark was here, as well as the other Barian Emperors.

Which meant–no.

Mizar stepped forward, jaw clenched, the anxiety visible in the way his eyes narrowed. His voice was low, but his concern cut through the air. “Yuma.”

Kite mirrored him, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yuma.”

The name hung between them like a final declaration–one that shattered the silence and ushered in the storm.

Chapter Text

Earlier that day…

The door clicked shut behind Hart, and for a long moment, the house remained still.

Yuma leaned against the door, his gaze turning back to Ray, a gentle smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. “You think it’ll work?” He asked.

Ray’s eyes held Yuma’s for a moment before he spoke. “It’s hard to say. But it feels like a step in the right direction.”

Much like his own situation with Yuma, it made sense that Kite and Mizar might need something–or someone to help move things forward. And at least a letter was a gentler nudge than a high-stakes Duel that left both parties broken. Ray wouldn’t wish that kind of experience on anyone. It had been hard enough on him–and far harder, he suspected, on Yuma, who’d been left to carry the weight of the aftermath while Ray recovered in Barian World.

Yuma pushed off the door and stepped closer, a faint crease of worry lining his brow. “Do you think Kite’s really ready to put his feelings out there?”

Ray’s gaze dropped, his fingers reaching out to take Yuma’s, curling them lightly together. “I don’t know. But sometimes, it’s less about being ready and more about having someone who believes you’re worth the risk.”

Yuma smiled softly, his heart understanding those words completely. His red eyes met Ray’s purple ones, warmth like the morning sun reflected in their depths. “...You were worth the risk.”

Ray felt warmth bloom in his cheeks, about to respond, but Yuma shifted before he could speak. The action of Yuma’s lips brushing his own surfacing sharply in his mind. Slowly, Ray released his grip on Yuma’s hands and slipped his arms around him, deepening the kiss and savouring the moment.

For a while, they simply stayed like that–Yuma’s arms wrapped tightly around Ray, holding on as if to stretch the moment indefinitely. But eventually, breathless and warm, Yuma pulled back just enough to rest his head against Ray’s shoulder. “…I was thinking,” he murmured, voice soft, a little shy. “If Kite and Mizar are set to have a special night…why don’t we, too?”

Ray tilted his head, a slow smile curling his lips as one hand rose to gently brush through Yuma’s long black hair. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yup!” Yuma responded brightly, his voice brimming with that familiar energy—but a flicker of pink touched his cheeks as he added, “Guess it’s…a bit late for a first one, huh?”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t think it’s late at all. In fact, it’s arriving just on time!” He smiled brightly. “There wasn’t really time for just us last night…and, well, my first night back…”

His voice trailed off as his heart fluttered, warmth rising to his cheeks. A soft, contented sigh escaping his lips. Yuma’s own cheeks flushed as he thought back to their shared moment, still struggling to believe it was real. If this were a dream, he should have woken up by now–but still, it didn’t seem real. Ray was finally his, in every way. No more longing, no more doubt or worry. Yet, the fear that it could all vanish in a moment still lingered.

There was still one Shadow of the Barian Emperors remaining. And this time, there was no uncertainty about who it would be. The final Shadow would be Shark’s–or, rather, Nasch’s. And given that four out of the seven Shadows had already targeted Ray–some directly, others less so–it felt all but certain that this one would, too. Especially considering the volatile history between Nasch and Vector. Meaning it was only a matter of time before the Shadow came knocking.

But now, things were different. With the new power of ZEXAL–Zexal Morph: V, their fusion–Yuma and Ray could face the threat together. So while Yuma still worried for Ray, it was a different kind of fear. One no longer defined by helplessness, but by determination. And just as they had faced Girag’s Shadow side by side, they would face this final one the same way: together.

Yuma curled his fingers lightly into the fabric of Ray’s shirt, his other hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. He drew him in close, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss–one that lingered not out of urgency, but to anchor himself in Ray’s presence. In the unshakable truth of him.

When they parted, Yuma stayed close, forehead resting lightly against Ray’s. His voice dropping to a softer register. “…About what you said earlier,” he murmured. “Your first night back.”

Ray’s eyes shifted to his, gentle and searching.

Yuma smiled faintly, a little sheepish. “I guess we kind of did things out of order, huh? Most people have the date before the whole… ‘sharing a bed’ thing.”

A laugh escaped Ray, low and genuine. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t change how it happened.”

Yuma’s smile deepened, affection shining behind his eyes. “Me neither. But that just means tonight…we’ve got to make this first date awesome. For us.”

Ray nodded, brushing a hand through Yuma’s hair with a tenderness that spoke volumes. “Then let’s do it right.”

Yuma grinned, his energy returning. “Come on,” he said, Yuma’s voice bright again. “Let’s go get ready.”

Ray let out a soft laugh. “Are you really going to get all dressed up for me?”

“Of course I am!” Yuma exclaimed.

Ray only smiled softly in response, while Yuma tightened his grip around his hand now, leading him upstairs. “You can take the bathroom first,” Yuma offered, turning toward his room–only to pause as Ray’s hand tightened gently around his.

“…You could always join me,” Ray said quietly, his voice soft, tinged with a shy smile.

A warm flush rushed to Yuma’s face. His red eyes glancing back at Ray, surprised by the offer–not because it was bold, but because of how suddenly real everything felt. After what they’d already shared, something like this shouldn’t have made him flustered. And yet…it did. Maybe it was because everything between them still felt so new–every look, every touch, every quiet invitation still carried weight.

But as he met Ray’s eyes again, that nervous flutter softened. If something as simple as helping each other dress had felt meaningful, maybe sharing something ordinary like a shower could, too. It was less about necessity and more about closeness. Slowly, Yuma nodded, letting Ray lead the way. The two of them stepping into a small, quiet moment of a new shared routine–while discovering what it meant to live together and not solely just what it meant to stand beside one another.

By the time they were drying off and swapping hair products over the steamed-up bathroom sink, the rhythm between them had shifted into something easy, even playful. Ray was finishing with his hair, a soft hum slipping from his lips–some vague melody he didn’t even realize he’d picked up. And beside him, Yuma couldn’t help but glance over as he brushed out his long hair. “Where’s that tune from? It’s nice,” Yuma asked.

Ray paused for a moment, trying to place it. “...I’m not really sure. Must have just heard it around town…or maybe it’s something deeper…”

“...From ancient times?”

The words slipped out before Yuma had meant for them, perhaps worried to cause Ray any grief or pain. He’d seen Ray’s memories firsthand when he’d Dueled Shark. And while Ray at first had fed into the pain of his past as a human, his quick shift to brushing it off–and trying to use it as a means to gain the upper hand in the Duel–suggested it wasn’t a topic Yuma had to tread lightly around. But then again, that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t pain. Ray, as his true self–Vector–had been someone with a troubling past even before becoming a Barian after all.

Ray quickly picked up on Yuma’s shift and, without a second thought, reached out a hand. Electing to be the one offering comfort–even if, in that moment, it seemed like it should have been the other way around. “…It’s alright, Yuma,” Ray said softly, his voice warm. “Though, I think you’re right. I think my mother used to sing this song before I went to bed as a child.” He paused, eyes meeting Yuma’s, and a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “What about you, Yuma? You’re close with your mom, aren’t you?”

Yuma’s gaze softened at the question, a familiar sense of warmth bubbling up as he nodded. “Yeah! My mom definitely had a few lullabies or stories before I tucked in for the night.” His voice carried a trace of nostalgia. The mention of his parents always seemed to bring him comfort. “...I can’t wait until she gets back with Dad. I know they’re gonna be excited to have you around.”

Ray’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sentiment, before his smile returned, even softer than before. “Then I’d better do my best to show them their son is in good hands.”

The atmosphere between them softened, the moment lingering just enough to anchor them in the warmth they’d shared. Ray gave Yuma’s hand a light squeeze before letting go, his eyes holding a quiet understanding. The sounds of the bathroom filled the space–the faucet running, towels rustling–as they both returned to their tasks. In comfortable silence, they finished up, their hands naturally finding each other after. Fingers curling together instinctively, the simple touch anchoring them in the present. Together, they walked toward Yuma’s room, the soft click of the door closing behind them as they entered. For a moment, they stood silently, hands still joined, before reluctantly releasing each other to begin picking out their outfits for the evening.

Yuma opting for something stylish yet understated. He chose a black, sleeveless midriff top with a collar that he left slightly turned up, the zipper undone just enough to reveal a black choker and Ray’s Baria Crystal. He paired it with white pants and a black belt fastened firmly around his hips, the front and back accented by black straps with red patterns that hung loosely like suspenders, adding an edgy aesthetic with no real function. His pants were zip-offs, zippers running around the thighs so he could easily turn them into shorts, but for now, they remained at full length in case the evening later turned chilly. To finish the look, he wore black half-fingered gloves and a short red jacket, lined with white and decorated with subtle white patterns.

Ray had chosen a white, form-fitting side cut-out top with a fixed keyhole detail, creating an alluring contrast against his deep purple harness-style belt. Another belt rested around his waist, complemented by a hanging silver chain that added a touch of edge. Tight black pants hugged his frame, interrupted only by two deep purple thigh belts strapped along the left side, drawing attention to his sharp, angular silhouette. The ensemble was finished with a half-fingered glove on one hand and an open black jacket lined with white fur–distinctly different from his usual, but still familiar in its bold style.

With the pair satisfied, their hands linked once more. Their gazes drifting to one another, both taking in the details of each other’s outfits. Yuma couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious as he glanced at Ray, his eyes flickering between his own look and Ray’s, wondering if his style was too casual for the date. But before he could overthink it, his heart skipped a beat when he caught Ray’s words.

“Looking good, Yuma~”

Ray’s voice was light, teasing, but his eyes were warm, filled with appreciation. Yuma felt his cheeks heat up, the soft affection in Ray’s voice melting away any doubt. He leaned in, his hand reaching to touch Ray’s arm before pressing his lips gently to his.

“...You look beautiful too,” Yuma murmured, his voice a little softer, the affection deepening as he pulled back just enough to meet Ray’s eyes.

“Then if there’s no objections, I think it’s about time we head out, don’t you?” Ray asked, his voice soft, as he nuzzled lightly against Yuma awaiting a response.

Yuma’s grip tightened around Ray’s hand, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Right,” he agreed, giving a small nod.

He led them downstairs, their hands still intertwined, and called out to his sister as they reached the bottom. “We’re headed out–don’t wait up if it gets too late!”

Akari, momentarily distracted from her work, emerged from her office, quirking an eyebrow as she took in the pair. “Didn’t know my lil bro had any fashion sense–Ray dressed you, didn’t he?” She teased, not even bothering to mask her amusement.

Yuma’s face immediately flushed. “What are you talking about?!” He flailed, his voice almost indignant as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

Ray, always the defender, smirked playfully. “Actually, he picked it out himself,” he chimed in, standing tall beside Yuma with a quiet air of confidence.

Akari blinked, her expression shifting to one of mild shock. “You don’t say…” She said before shaking her head, arms crossing over her chest. “Well, you two behave yourselves and be safe. If I don’t see you before bed, I’m expecting both of you bright and early for breakfast.”

Yuma shot her a dramatic eye-roll, though it was clear there was no real malice behind it. “We’ll be fine, Akari,” he said with a mock sigh, trying to downplay her over protectiveness–even if recent events justified her worry.

Ray on the other hand gave her a soft smile and a reassuring nod. “Leave it to me, I’ll make sure Yuma gets home safely,” he assured, adding a light salute with his free hand before they started toward the door.

Akari gave them a quick, knowing glance before her eyes softened slightly. “See you two later,” she said, retreating back to her office.

And with that, the pair stepped out the front door. They’d shared plenty of moments before, but today marked the beginning of something different–a first date, with all the promise and quiet hope that came with it.

Chapter Text

The front door clicked shut behind them, and a cool breeze brushed past, prompting a faint shiver from Yuma. He could almost swear he felt a chill crawl down his spine–but whether it was from the air or nerves, he wasn’t sure. He shifted a little closer to Ray, seeking not just warmth, but quiet reassurance. Ray didn’t hesitate, gently squeezing Yuma’s hand in return, his presence grounding and calm.

They walked slowly at first, their steps unhurried as they fell into easy conversation about where to go. There were too many ideas and no real plan–just the shared desire to make this first date together something memorable. Each suggestion sparking a new possibility, and the city ahead felt wide open, like an adventure waiting to be written.

Their plans took shape easily: first, the usual waffle café, followed by the noisy, colorful chaos of the arcade, then a relaxing movie at the theater. Afterward, a cozy dinner and a walk through one of the local parks as the evening progressed. And by the time they found themselves by the fountain it was already nightfall, the lights of Heartland City twinkling around them. Casting long shadows as they gazed at the carnival sights that now surrounded them, considering just one more attraction to end their evening.

The roller coasters had been thrilling, but they agreed they wanted something quieter, something intimate to wrap up their time together. And after a moment of quiet deliberation, they settled on the ferris wheel.

Yet just as Ray stood up, ready to lead the way, Yuma’s gaze drifted back toward the water pooling in the fountain’s base behind them. He wasn’t sure why he had looked–but when his red eyes focused on his reflection, something felt...wrong. The face staring back at him wasn’t quite his. The contours looked harsher, drawn, colder–as if someone else were staring back from the depths of the water.

The stillness of the moment stretched on, and Yuma’s breath caught in his throat. His heart raced in that split second of hesitation, his fingers twitching like they were about to reach out and touch the surface. But just then, a voice–low and chilling slithered into his mind.

‘Vector doesn’t deserve this... Deep within you, you must know your efforts are in vain. That you will fail him, just like you failed to save him before…’

The words hit like a cold blade, and his reflection twisted again–the face shifting, becoming sharper, more alien. His breath shuddered as the vision warped. A single red slitted eye–vertical, glowing, unmistakably Barian–flickered for just a moment, watching him with a cold, calculating gaze.

The chill in his chest deepened. The voice lingered, threading through his thoughts like poison. Familiar, ancient and something that should’ve been long gone.

‘Tsukumo, Yuma... You are not strong enough to protect him. You will fail again.’

Yuma wanted to tear his eyes away, but the reflection held him–pulling him in, drowning him in the impossibility of it all. For a moment, he felt like he was seeing someone else. Something else. That darkness seeping in as the weight of fear and failure clung to him like a second skin. His memories flashed before his eyes… Ray’s grip slipping away as he was absorbed into Don Thousand. Then Marin’s Shadow–nearly tearing Ray from him again.

He was spiraling now. Those memories playing on a loop, twisting his thoughts into knots.

And then–

A hand gently landed on his shoulder. The sudden warmth shattering the illusion. Yuma blinked, disoriented, and found Ray standing there, looking down at him with concern in his eyes. “Yuma...?” Ray’s voice was soft. Grounding. An anchor in the chaos.

Yuma shook his head, trying to clear away the shadows. His chest tightened, the sensation slowly easing as his red eyes locked onto Ray’s form. But then the dam broke. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Ray and holding him tight. The move catching Ray completely off guard, but Yuma’s trembling form melted into his warmth. “It’s okay, Yuma... you’re safe.”

Ray’s arms tightened instinctively, pulling him in as if he could shield Yuma from whatever darkness lingered in the air. His voice lowered, reassuring. “I’ve got you…”

Yuma’s fingers dug into Ray’s shirt, gripping him like an anchor. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to see Ray’s face again–needed to confirm that this moment was real. His hand trembled slightly before it rose to touch Ray’s cheek, the warmth grounding him against the whirlwind in his mind. “Ray…”

Ray’s brow furrowed, but his tone stayed calm. “I’m here.” He gently brushed aside the strands of hair falling across Yuma’s eyes, his own gaze softening–though confusion lingered beneath the concern. “Yuma, what happened?”

Yuma’s heart pounded. Ray felt so close now, yet moments before he’d seemed miles away. But now the calm in Ray’s voice tugged at him, slowly reeling him back to shore. Yet, how could he explain what even he didn’t understand?

Yuma shook his head, the words barely more than a breath. “...I don’t know…” His voice faltered, eyes clouded by the remnants of the hallucination. Thoughts tangled. Fear lingering. His gaze found Ray’s again as he whispered, raw and pleading, “Just…stay close to me.”

Ray’s expression softened further. He didn’t ask anything more. He didn’t need to. He only brushed his thumb gently along Yuma’s cheek and answered with unwavering certainty: “I’m not going anywhere.”

Yuma’s body finally relaxed in Ray’s arms, though his mind still raced. The tension ebbed, but the fear buried beneath it remained–familiar, persistent. Ray didn’t move, holding him closer still, his steady presence a quiet, wordless vow.

It was all Yuma could ask for and he allowed himself the moment–just a little longer–clinging to Ray’s scent, his warmth, his presence. No memory or hallucination could take this from him. And yet, even in that safety, Yuma felt a twinge of guilt. This was supposed to be their night, and he’d almost let it slip through his fingers.

He took a breath, steadying himself. This time, things were different. Their bond–powered by the new ZEXAL awakening–was ready for whatever would come next. “Sorry…we were going to the Ferris Wheel, right?” Yuma asked, pulling back just enough to meet Ray’s eyes.

Ray smiled gently. “Only if you’re up for it. I won’t blame you if you want to call it early. There’s always tomorrow.”

Yuma shook his head, a real smile beginning to break through. “No. I want to be selfish. I want this moment–and tomorrow’s, and the next day’s, and the ones after that.”

Ray’s eyes softened, echoing the same hope. “Then there’s no time like the present.”

This time, Ray didn’t take Yuma’s hand–he elected instead to slip his arm around him, pulling him close. Everything beginning to settle back into place. Quiet. Peaceful. Just as Yuma had imagined. The carnival lights flickering around them, the cool night air brushing their skin. The world shifting to pause, just for them. And ahead, the ferris wheel shimmered, its bright lights glowing like a promise.

Maybe this was exactly what they needed.

The noise of the carnival faded to a soft backdrop—laughter, distant music, the creak of turning rides all gently ushering them forward. Step by step, they moved together toward the waiting wheel, the soft rhythm of the night guiding them.

The Ferris Wheel stood tall above it all, each rotation slow and steady, a pulse against the skyline. Its lights cast soft golden reflections across the pavement as they approached, painting them both in a warm, steady glow.

They joined the short line in silence, standing close. Neither spoke; there was no need. Yuma leaned into Ray’s side, comforted by the quiet strength of his presence. And Ray–always attuned to him, rested his head against Yuma’s.

When their turn came, the operator led them to one of the enclosed glass carriages. The door latching softly behind them. And as the wheel began to turn, lifting them gently into the night, the city lights spread out below like stars in reverse.

Up here, the world felt far away. It was just the two of them, side by side, the city lights a distant blur below. Their glass carriage creaking gently as it climbed, and Yuma leaned once more into Ray, resting his head against his shoulder. Ray’s arm wrapping around him instinctively, holding him close.

Outside, the lights of the carnival danced–flashes of red, gold, violet sometimes spilling softly into their small space, but never quite disturbing the quiet wrapped around them. For a time, they said nothing. Just breathed and held on. The kind of silence that said everything without needing words. Then, Yuma’s voice broke the stillness, low and uncertain. “...It’s funny…”

Ray turned slightly, his chin brushing against Yuma’s hair. “What is?”

Yuma hesitated, then gave a breath of a laugh. “To think I didn’t even want to be your friend at first. I tried to avoid you.”

Ray’s brows lifted in surprise, though his expression remained gentle–curious, not hurt. He said nothing, letting Yuma go on. “Kotori was the one who called me out. She said I was being rude. That you were just a fan, trying to be nice. And after you jumped in to duel on my behalf… I realized how stubborn I was being.”

Yuma went quiet again, his fingers tightening slightly where they rested on Ray’s arm. The motion was small–but filled with meaning. “I guess I’m just…glad I was wrong,” he said, voice softer now. “Even if it took a while to get here, I know now–there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

There was a quiet beat between them, the kind that hung with unspoken affection–before Ray smirked. “Well, I didn’t want to be your friend either,” he said casually, his tone playfully dry. “Didn’t I tell you the Rank-Up-Magic Limited Barian's Force card came from a friend that didn’t exist?”

Yuma let out a soft laugh, nuzzling a little closer as his eyes fluttered shut. “You did.”

Ray pressed a soft kiss into Yuma’s hair, his grip tightening just slightly. “I think it’s pretty clear neither of us just wants to be friends,” he said with a teasing edge.

A smile tugged at Yuma’s lips. “Guilty,” he murmured. “Was it that obvious when I asked you out on this date?”

The comment was clearly a joke–after all, their shared confession and the night they’d spent together after Ray’s return had already answered that question. But Yuma couldn’t help himself.

Ray let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm against the hush of the night around them. “It was definitely before that…” He murmured, his voice trailing as his thoughts wandered.

He shifted position, carefully releasing his hold to lean back against the side of the carriage, letting his legs stretch along the seat. Then, with a light tug, he guided Yuma into his lap. His hand rose, fingertips brushing Yuma’s cheek with the same care he’d use holding a card that mattered. Yuma tilted his face, eyes fluttering shut just as Ray closed the distance.

The kiss was slow–more of a promise than a rush. Not urgent, not driven by adrenaline or fear. Just steady and certain. A quiet confirmation of everything they already knew. Of everything they’d fought to protect. And as they parted, Ray offered a small, teasing smile. “I think the moment was something like this…”

Yuma’s cheeks flushed. The flickering carnival lights painting their faces in soft hues–warm golds, pale blues, faint reds. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence between them thick with meaning.

Then Yuma moved.

He slipped his arms around Ray’s neck, fingers threading into the back of his hair, as he pulled him in again–this time with urgency. The kiss deepened, more desperate now. Not just affection, but everything unspoken, everything he still couldn’t say, poured into that one shared breath.

His fingers curled tighter into Ray’s hair as heat bloomed between them, the urgency rising. The kiss intensifying–less tentative, more consuming. Like something long-buried finally breaking the surface.

All he could feel was Ray–real, present, here. Anchoring him.

And he didn’t want to let go. Not of this. Not of him.

Ray’s response was just as earnest, one arm locked tight around Yuma’s waist, the other still resting on his cheek in a grounding, tender touch. Their connection sparked against the cool glass and cold steel of the carriage walls, forgotten in the haze of shared desire.

But then–

The sky cracked. A low, thrumming boom rolled across the heavens like a heartbeat out of rhythm. Violet light lanced across the skyline. The stars vanishing behind a rippling distortion. And one by one, the lights across the park flickered and died. And through the reflection in the curved glass of the carriage, Yuma saw it.

A figure hovered.

Alien. Familiar.

His skin shimmered with an unnatural violet hue, shadows crawling across the contours of his form like something alive. Copper armor gleaming under the fractured sky, skin inlaid with red gems. His purple hair twisted and flowed like deep sea currents, voluminous and wild beneath the copper crown fixed to his brow–the red jewel at its center glinting like an eye watching from the dark.

Aqua markings curled beneath each eye–one red, one blue etched like a curse burned into his skin. And at the center of his chest, carved directly into his being, pulsed the Barian Emblem. A sigil of power and his position as the leader of the Seven Barian Emperors.

The final Shadow had arrived...

Outside the carriage. Above the park. Suspended in the broken sky like a god of war. His crimson cape billowed with the wind, and a faint blue aura curled around him, growing brighter with every breathless second.

And then he moved.

Without hesitation and with no warning, he drew back his fist, blue energy igniting around it–then snapped it forward. The blast surging straight toward them.

Yuma’s body tensed–but Ray had already moved. A flick of his hand had drawn open a Barian Portal beside them, the cool night air greeting them almost instantly as they passed through it. And in the next breath, they landed on the solid ground far below. As an explosion above them went off.

A brilliant burst of light and fire swallowing the carriage. Shrapnel tearing through the air, raining down in fiery arcs as the shockwave rippled across the park.

Yuma barely had time to breathe before he felt Ray pull him behind, shielding him instinctively. His pulse thundering in his ears. Every muscle locked tight. As Nasch’s Shadow descended upon them.

The dust hadn’t even settled as Ray stepped forward, still shielding Yuma behind him, a flicker of purple energy coiling around his fingertips–ready for a fight, even if the odds were impossible.

That’s when the voice came. Low, cold and final. “Step aside, Vector.”

Ray didn’t flinch as he squared his stance, forcing himself to stay level, slipping effortlessly into the sharp grin of the Barian he used to be. “Look, Nasch, I’m really flattered you want to murder me,” he quipped, tilting his head as if unbothered. “But that temper of yours—c’mon, you know these scores are best settled by a–”

He stopped. The Shadow wasn’t even look at him. “I said step aside.”

This time, the words came sharper. Commanding. A pulse of energy flaring around Shadows’ form, enough to make the pavement crack beneath him.

Ray’s bravado faltered. “W–wait, what? Why Yuma?”

Yuma’s breath caught. His body stiffened. That couldn’t be right. Nasch’s Shadow should have been here for Ray. The history. The betrayal. The war between them. That hatred for Vector should’ve been overwhelming–just like it was with the other Shadows. Shouldn’t it have been?

But Nasch’s gaze didn’t waver. Those mismatched eyes burned—not with rage for Vector, but with something colder, calculated and focused.

On him.

On Yuma.

The realization hit like a gut punch. Even as the shock carved itself across Ray’s face, he held his ground. The Barian Emperor still standing between them–defending not himself, as he’d expected, but Yuma. Yet he still didn’t understand why.

And neither did Yuma.

But the Shadow of Nasch did. Its fingers curled inward, and blue energy surged violently around its hand–sparking with raw, unstable force. “So be it,” the Shadow intoned coldly.

It thrust its arm forward, and the blast erupted–a spear of energy tearing through the air, aimed straight for them.

Ray reacted in an instant. Purple energy flaring from his body, a shimmering shield like energy forming just in time to absorb the hit. Even if the force still sent a shockwave across the ground, kicking up dust and rattling the nearby lights.

But the Shadow of Nasch didn’t wait to see if the strike landed. It surged forward with terrifying speed, a blur of blue energy.

Ray was already moving himself–his form shifting in a flash of energy as he transformed into his own Barian form. Vector now standing where Ray once had, the familiar twisted grin nowhere in sight. This wasn’t playfulness. This was war. He shot into the air, intercepting Nasch’s Shadow mid-charge. The two collided with a shockwave, purple and blue light exploding outward like colliding stars.

They clashed again, and again–fast, brutal, nearly impossible to track. Energy crackling through the sky as they moved at breakneck speeds, striking and countering in perfect, deadly rhythm.

Nasch’s strikes were unrelenting–calculated, almost surgical. Each blow meant to break past Vector’s defenses, not just wound, but incapacitate.

Vector fought back with a kind of wild precision–less refined, but no less dangerous. He darted, twisted, countered, throwing back his own pulses of purple energy to keep Nasch at bay, if only barely.

And below them, Yuma watched, frozen.

The sky above had become a war zone–flashes of blue and purple clashing across the dark heavens, lighting the carnival ruins in chaotic bursts. The ferris wheel, once glowing like a dream, now sputtered in the background like a dying memory. The scent of ozone in the air, sharp and bitter.

Vector was holding his own–for now. But Nasch’s Shadow was relentless. Precise and intentional. This wasn’t a mere battle, it was execution. And Yuma could only stand there, helpless, as Ray fought for him. The realization twisting in his gut, a coil of dread tightening with every second. And then the voice came. Soft. Slithering. Right behind his ear.

‘Just like before…you will lose him.’

Yuma flinched, his hands trembling at his side. “No–!”

‘You feel it, do you not? The fear. The helplessness. You are nothing but a spectator. Just like before.’

The memories tore through him like shrapnel–Ray, slipping from his grasp as Don Thousand consumed him. Ray, battered and broken in the wake of Marin’s Shadow. Ray, dying again and again, in every version of this nightmare…

‘You will lose him forever… There is no Numeron Code to save him now...’

Yuma’s knees buckled and he staggered back a step. The battle above faded into blurred colour and muffled sound. His heart thundering out of rhythm. His body felt wrong–too light, too heavy, like it didn’t belong to him at all. A ringing started in his ears, sharp and rising. His vision doubled. And somewhere in the haze, he realized he was swaying. Was he falling? Was he still here? He couldn’t be certain but the voice from within spoke once more.

‘You cannot hope to save him, Tsukumo, Yuma. You never could.’

Yuma’s breath hitched, his vision refocused and in that moment he saw it–reflected in the fractured glass at his feet. His right eye, flickering with a cold, unnatural blue.

Something was pressing into him now. HIS presence, a weight inside Yuma’s head, inside his very soul.

Don Thousand.

Above, Vector faltered mid-strike. His gaze flickering down, sensing it–that ancient, familiar presence. The Barian Deity he had bound his lifeforce to, and panic errupted. “Y–Yuma…!”

The name barely escaped his lips before Nasch’s Shadow struck. The blue blast hitting right through him. Vector’s body crashing to the ground with a sickening impact–right in front of Yuma.

Yuma’s breath shattered. He dropped to his knees with a choked sob, fingers already reaching for him, trembling so violently he could barely keep hold of Vector’s broken form. “R–Ray…!” he gasped.

There was blood. So much blood. Warm and slick on his hands, soaking through his sleeves, staining everything. His vision tunneled–his entire world collapsing down as he held Ray’s limp body in his arms. The same body he had held like this once before. The same pain. The same loss. And it was happening again. His mind splintered. The carnival was gone. The sky was gone. There was only this–this unbearable moment, this loop of grief that refused to end. This moment had happened before. Not exactly like this. But close enough that it carved through him like déjà vu laced with knives.

A sob wrenched from his throat, raw and primal. And his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His thoughts were static. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something cracked–a snap of something vital inside him–and then there was only silence.

He was losing him again. Forever.

Then, like a whisper beneath Yuma’s own screams of distress, came the voice.

‘I can save him.’

Behind him, the darkness thickened. The form he hadn’t been aware of–the one that had been growing within him, finally stepped into reality. Black skin, etched with red markings. Onyx armor that glimmered like void-stone. Long, golden hair cascading like firelight and red bangs framing his face. A signature vertical third eye embedded in his forehead. Earrings swaying with unnatural stillness. And on that expressionless face, two eyes–one blue, one red that locked onto Yuma without mercy.

Don Thousand. Fully manifested.

Yuma trembled. All common sense, all warnings, all instincts fell away. All he could do was kneel there, trembling, cradling the one person who mattered more than anything in the universe. And in that moment he didn’t see an enemy. He saw a way to stop the nightmare. “P–please,” he gasped. “Help him…save Ray.”

The deity tilted his head, amusement curling beneath his blank stare. ‘I will. But you will help me in return.’

Vector stirred—barely from Yuma’s arms, voice hoarse, broken as he pleaded with him. “Yuma…don’t…”

But Yuma didn’t hear him. Or maybe he did–and chose to ignore it. A sob cracked in his chest. Somewhere, faint and flickering, a voice screamed no—but it was so small. So far away. “...I’ll do anything.”

The world went still.

Don Thousand’s form shifted–into Yuma. Not overtly at first. There was no violent transformation, no explosive energy. Just…a quiet swallowing of the light behind Yuma’s eyes. His trembling stilled. His posture straightening as his breathing slowed. And when he looked down at Vector again, it wasn’t Yuma staring back. It was something far older. Far colder. Something inhuman.

Don Thousand raised a hand, a flicker of energy coiling through his palm like liquid starlight. Purple and black, laced with jagged gold. He moved it with a strategic precision–hovering it over Vector’s body. ‘I keep my promises. However pointless they are.’

The energy spilled outward, wrapping around Vector’s broken form in tendrils of light. Wounds sealing and bruises fading. The blood vanishing like smoke. Vector inhaled sharply as he sat up–strength returning to his limbs, as he came back from the edge–though the chill of that unnatural power lingered in his veins. Something he ignored as he looked up in desperation, eyes wide. “Yuma!?”

But the eyes that met his were not the ones he knew. They were foreign and empty. “He is resting,” Don Thousand said simply, devoid of emotion and care. “You will see him again. Perhaps.”

Don Thousand rose. Calm. Controlled. Turning his head toward the sky. The remnants of the battle still smoldering in the clouds. And above them all, Nasch’s Shadow hovered, watching. The Barian Deity tilted Yuma’s head ever so slightly. “The time has come at last for you to rejoin me… Nasch.”

The Shadow of Nasch looked uneasy, but even if it had wanted to flee, an energy surged around both the Shadow and Don Thousand as a portal cracked open pulling the pair away somewhere else–somewhere more private for this confrontation.

Vector tried to move. “Yuma–!”

He reached out, fingers scraping at the empty air as the portal sealed with a final pulse of light. Allowing only silence to follow. The carnival still as lights flickered. Smoke curling upward into the night. And Vector… Vector remained there, trembling hands still stained with his own blood, staring at the empty space where Yuma had vanished. His voice barely more than a breath.

“...Yuma…”

Chapter Text

The carnival lay still. Its once-vibrant lights flickered weakly, the power source struggling to recover. The air hung heavy with the scent of burnt ozone and an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of distant lights fading into nothing.

Vector sat motionless. His hands stained with dried blood, his breathing shallow and ragged, as if his body could no longer bear the weight of what had just happened. His purple eyes, wide with disbelief, remained fixed on the empty space where the portal had closed with a final flash of light. The air was still–but in his chest, his heart thundered, a hollow ache echoing in his ribs.

“Yuma…” he whispered, the name barely escaping as a breathless rasp.

He tried to push himself up, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. His palms pressed into the dirt still smeared with his own blood, as his vision blurred. He was barely holding himself together, struggling to grasp what he had lost.

A sharp breath caught in his throat as the weight of it all crashed over him like a tidal wave. Yuma was gone. His Yuma–the one he had fought for, clung to, changed for. The one who had seen through the monster and still believed there was something in him worth saving. And now, Yuma was in the hands of the very deity Vector had once allied himself with. The same deity he had traded his soul to–drunk on power and blind with arrogance. The same one he had dared to betray, thinking he could outmaneuver.

And now, that deity had taken from him the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

Yet, worse still was Yuma had gone willingly–because of him. Because Vector hadn’t been strong enough. Hadn’t been fast enough. Hadn’t been enough to protect him. He could still hear it–that broken plea: “Please…save Ray.” That wasn’t a cry for help. It was surrender. It was love twisted by despair. And Vector could do nothing to stop it.

The irony was cruel, but it wasn’t what hurt most. What hurt was knowing he’d finally had everything he never thought he deserved–Yuma’s love, his trust, a future together and he had let it slip through his fingers. Don Thousand hadn’t just taken Yuma. He had taken their happiness.

And Vector could only kneel there, hollow and defeated, knowing he’d been the reason all of this had happened.

“Yuma…” he whispered again, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was to convince himself this was real. That the bond they’d built wasn’t a dream. That he hadn’t just lost the only person who ever believed he could be more than a monster.

There was a hum of energy–then footsteps, fast and approaching. But Vector didn’t move. His body felt too heavy. Too broken to react.

“Vector!”

Nasch’s voice, sharp with urgency, cut through the silence. But still, Vector didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to see the worry on anyone’s face when they realized what had happened. Or worse–the confusion and disappointment. It would only deepen the ache already hollowing out his chest.

A second voice followed, quieter but no less weighted. “...What happened here?” Dumon asked, uncertain.

They weren’t alone. Vector could sense the others gathering behind them–Kite, Mizar, Rio, Quattro, Alito and Kotori. Hart and Bronk were absent; though Vector wouldn’t have known why or that they had been there to begin with, but Kite had insisted on getting his brother far from the unfolding disaster. Not that it mattered now.

All their eyes were on Vector, waiting and watching. Expecting answers he didn’t have the strength or the will to give. Not at first.

Then, finally, his voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper. “Yuma’s gone.”

The words tasted foreign on his tongue. Like a bitter truth he'd kept locked behind clenched teeth, hoping it might somehow stop being real if he never said it aloud. “He’s…he’s not here anymore.”

Kite’s eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across his face. He dropped to one knee in front of Vector, gripping his shoulder–firmly enough that it should’ve registered, but Vector barely felt it. “What do you mean, gone?” Kite’s voice cracked, the strain in it betraying how hard he was holding himself together. “Where is he? What happened to him?”

Vector didn’t answer.

His head hung low, shoulders slack. His eyes stayed fixed on the dirt beneath him–blood-stained and scorched, a silent record of what had unfolded. He couldn't look at them. Couldn’t face the fear or confusion he knew was etched into every face. Or the pity that would undoubtedly mirror the devastation in his own chest. He didn’t want to see it. He couldn’t bear to.

Kite’s grip tightened, fingers digging in as if trying to shake the truth loose–or ground himself in it. “Vector,” he said again, quieter now, but no less insistent. “Where is Yuma?”

The words lodged in Vector’s throat.

‘Where is he?’

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t breathe.

How could he explain the emptiness gnawing at his core? The hollow, aching place where Yuma had been. How could he put into words that Yuma–his Yuma had given himself up? That he was no longer here. No longer in this world. No longer within reach.

That the boy who had once saved him from himself had been taken by a deity they could never escape.

Vector’s form faltered. The Barian energy clinging to him flickering and then vanishing altogether–leaving him collapsed in the dirt as Ray once more. Human. The shift hit harder than he expected. Not just the exhaustion, but the gutting realization that his Baria Crystal was gone–taken with Yuma, now impossibly far away. The connection severed, and with it, the last tether to the strength he once clung to.

Before he could stop himself, the tears came. Hot and silent at first, then wracking, broken sobs that tore through him without warning. His whole body shook with the force of them, as if something inside had shattered. Something that wouldn’t be put back together again.

His entire existence had been tethered to Yuma in ways he still couldn’t fully understand. For five years, Yuma had stayed. Had believed in him. Had helped him learn how to live without cruelty, without power, without the need to destroy just to feel real–and never once did he turn away. He’d trusted Ray, believed he was worth saving and now was worth loving.

And Ray had changed. Not for redemption. Not for duty. He had changed for Yuma.

But now the one person who had anchored him to this world–was gone. Torn from him and out of reach.

The others watched in silence, the weight of the moment settling over them like a heavy fog. None of them could fully grasp what Ray was enduring–the ache of losing someone so deeply entwined with one’s soul. But they all felt the void Yuma left behind. And in their own ways, they mourned.

Kotori’s breath hitched as the truth crashed over her. She staggered back, chest tightening with disbelief. “Yuma...he’s really gone…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, fragile and unwilling to accept the reality.

She turned away, clutching Alito for support, tears beginning to fall. Alito looked stunned and broken, wrapping his arms around her as if to hold together what the news was tearing apart inside him as well.

Rio was no better. Her hands pressed tightly against her face, trying to suppress the trembling sobs, but it was futile. “He can’t be...” She muttered, voice cracking. “There has to be a way. Yuma’s too strong for this. He can’t just...be gone.”

Quattro moved beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders, his face tight with anguish. Nearby, Nasch turned his head away, frustration–grief warring in his clenched fist, which trembled despite himself. Dumon, ever the steady presence, reached out to grasp Nasch’s hand gently–offering silent strength even as his own heart bled for their lost friend.

Even Mizar seemed affected, though his focus was elsewhere–watching how the others sought comfort in one another. His thoughts drifted back to Yuma’s home, to the moment when Ray had been hurt and was recovering in Barian world. That memory lingered, bringing something new to the surface of his mind.

He had always played the part of observer or silent guard, watching others cope with grief from the outside. But this time felt different. The rawness of Ray’s pain hit him harder than expected, and Mizar found himself searching for something to do–not as an observer, but as someone who could help.

Mizar’s posture straightened, his gaze locking onto Ray, tears still tracing silent paths down his face. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Mizar studied him carefully, as if weighing the enormity of the pain before him.

And then, without fully understanding why, he found himself stepping forward. Slowly, deliberately–almost cautiously he knelt in front of Ray, his hand reaching out to gently to pull him into an embrace.

The movement startled Ray, his body stiffening in instinctive tension before the reality settled in. His chest heaved with a choking sob, but instead of pulling away, he allowed himself to be held. To be grounded in this rare moment of quiet comfort.

It wasn’t a graceful hug–Mizar wasn’t one for such displays, not like others might be. But the sincerity in that simple act spoke volumes. It wasn’t about empty words or meaningless platitudes. It was about presence. About sharing the unbearable weight of grief without pretense.

“You’re not alone in this,” Mizar said quietly, his voice steady, meeting the surprised glance of Kite nearby but choosing to offer comfort regardless.

Kite’s hand remained on Ray’s shoulder, but his gaze flickered from Ray to Mizar and back again, caught between support and surprise. Seeing Mizar kneel and pull Ray into a rough, hesitant embrace unsettled him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

The man who had always seemed so distant, so impervious to emotion, was showing a tenderness that broke through Kite’s guarded heart. His chest tightened with a strange mixture of hope and disbelief.

For a moment, Kite simply watched, his fingers tightening slightly on Ray’s shoulder as if anchoring himself to the moment. Then, slowly, he shifted back just enough to give them space, but he didn’t withdraw his support entirely.

In the silence, Kite held onto a fragile hope–a quiet whisper in the dark that maybe, despite everything, this moment could be the beginning of something new.

And in that fragile space between despair and possibility, Ray’s trembling body leaned into Mizar’s embrace, the weight of Yuma’s absence pressing down on him like never before. His fingers clenched the fabric of Mizar’s clothes as if grasping something solid could stop him from falling into the endless void.

Yet, even amidst the crushing grief, something stirred within him. This wasn’t just an act of consolation from Mizar–it was an acknowledgment. A painful reminder that, despite everything he’d done as Vector, there were still people who chose to care about him. People who saw his pain and chose to stand by him.

Perhaps, by now, he should have understood this–especially after that dinner. They were all friends now, weren’t they? But even so, after everything he’d done as Vector–the betrayal, the cruelty, the destruction–Ray still couldn't fathom why they hadn’t turned their backs on him. This group should have been the last people to care about him. And yet, here they were.

“Strength alone is not always enough,” Mizar said quietly, his tone steady. “Overconfidence can lead to ruin.”

Ray nodded, his breath shaky, a tear pooling at the corner of his eye before he wiped it away, resolute. His voice was hoarse, heavy with grief, but there was something different now–he wasn’t just crumbling under the weight of his pain. “...HE took him.”

“Nasch’s Shadow?” Dumon’s voice broke through, uncertain.

Ray shook his head, the weight of his words settling like a stone in his chest. “Don Thousand…”

A murmur of shock passed through the group, and their expressions shifted in an instant–wide eyes, furrowed brows, questions building on the tip of their tongues.

“So he’s finally decided to show himself,” Nasch muttered, his teeth clenched. “Guess we’ll have to teach him another lesson.”

Dumon, looking perplexed. He took a moment to rub his temples as if trying to clear his mind. “I don’t understand. Did Nasch’s Shadow not manifest?”

“It did,” Ray replied, his voice still fragile but gaining some strength as he spoke. “But it wasn’t alone.”

A tense silence hung in the air as everyone processed the new information. Dumon, ever the calm one, pressed on. “They came together, then?”

Ray shook his head again, his voice tight, strained. “No… Don Thousand was here, around all of us, the whole time.”

“How could that be?! We would have known!” Nasch’s disbelief was clear, his voice sharp with frustration.

“…I thought the same thing,” Ray said, his voice faltering for a moment as he reflected. “But then again, I once thought I had bested that nasty deity–only for him to reappear when I least expected. It’s not impossible that Don Thousand could’ve gone unnoticed...”

The weight of his words hung in the air, doing little to comfort any of them. A tense silence fell as the group processed the unsettling possibility. Then, Rio’s voice cut through the stillness, quiet but certain.

“…I think I saw it.”

All eyes turned to her, the sudden shift in focus pulling everyone’s attention.

“You mean back when I dueled my Shadow?” Alito’s voice was cautious, his emerald eye locking onto hers, seeking confirmation.

Rio nodded, her expression grave. “Yes. I tried to write it off as Yuma just…suffering. He’d been through so much, almost losing Ray…but there was, for a moment where an air of darkness seemed to gather around him–and it didn’t feel like Yuma. It felt…like something was amplifying those emotions, feeding off them…”

“So, he’s been attached to Yuma this whole time…” Kite murmured, his voice laced with disbelief.

Dumon nodded thoughtfully, his arms crossing as he considered the implications. “It’s not an impossible concept. When Don Thousand dueled Astral originally, his essence attached itself and became Number 96. It’s the same strategy, just a different target.”

Nasch frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to wrap his mind around it. “So he pulled the same stunt again but with Yuma? And yet… Don Thousand chose to pass his powers to me instead…”

“…Maybe in that moment,” Kotori interrupted, her voice cutting through the tension. “But what was to stop him from attaching himself to Yuma after your battle with him? Or even just a partial fraction of his essence before he transferred his powers to you?”

“Does it really matter how he did it?” Kite’s voice cut through the quiet, sharper than before. He shook his head, his expression hardening. “Yuma is our priority.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but they seemed to settle everyone into alignment. The weight of the situation hadn't escaped anyone, but now, they had a singular purpose. Kite wasted no time. “Orbital 7, begin scans of the residual energy and start analyzing. We’re tracking down Yuma, and we’re bringing him home.”

Without hesitation, Orbital 7 snapped a salute, its mechanical voice tinged with urgency. “Ri-Right away, Master Kite!” The robot moved into position, its systems whirring to life as it began gathering data.

Kite was already issuing the next set of orders, his command carried with quiet authority. “Report back to me at Yuma’s house once you’re done. I’m taking Ray home so he can get some rest. We all need to be ready to go tomorrow.”

The directness of his tone left little room for disagreement. “Mizar, you’ll be coming with me to assist.”

Mizar couldn’t suppress a surprised glance at Kite from where he was still holding Ray, his brow furrowing slightly at the sudden request. It wasn’t like Kite to insist so directly on something involving him–especially given the fact, Mizar’s presence only seemed to frustrate Kite as of late. However, Mizar said nothing. The time for hesitation was past. Slowly, he released his grip on Ray, helping him to his feet with a gentleness that seemed out of place for someone like Mizar. Before, he shifted his focus curiously towards Kite.

But it wasn’t Kite’s voice that followed. Instead, Nasch spoke–his tone steady, marked by the quiet certainty that had always defined him. “Kite’s right. Everyone get some rest–we move out first thing tomorrow.” He gave a subtle nod, backing Kite’s call with his usual quiet authority.

Dumon, ever the strategist, added his voice with quiet agreement, his gaze shifting from Ray to the others. “It’s wise. We need time to prepare–and Ray needs rest after everything he’s been through.” His eyes softened as he turned to Ray, clearly acknowledging the toll this day had taken on him.

Ray, though still struggling with his grief, looked up at the others, grateful for their unwavering support. Their faces tired but determined offered him a quiet strength, a reminder that they had his back, no matter what. It was a strange feeling, yet not unwelcome. And despite the gnawing emptiness inside him, there was something grounding in the presence of those who cared.

While he understood the necessity of a brief separation, a part of him couldn’t help but wish they could move out right away. That they could somehow leave everything behind and plunge straight into the unknown, to find Yuma and fix everything. The weight of helplessness threatening to swallow him again, but he managed to push the thought away. They had no direction, no leads. No idea where Don Thousand had taken Yuma. Thus, it was impossible at the current time to move forward now…

As he exhaled a shaky breath, his gaze moved to Kite, the one who had taken charge without hesitation, and then to Mizar, still nearby but now with a watchful distance that felt somehow…comforting.

The time for action would come. He knew that.

But not tonight.

With one final glance at the group, Ray gave a small nod, his thoughts drifting. His heart still ached with the gnawing absence of Yuma, but within that ache was something more–a spark of determination that began to burn brighter.

‘...Please, Yuma…hold on. I’m coming.’

The words felt like a vow–a promise he couldn’t break. No matter how impossible it seemed, no matter how much the world had taken from him, he wasn’t going to stop. Not until Yuma was back where he belonged.

He met Kite’s gaze then, steady and unyielding. Kite’s eyes, though heavy with his own worries, softened, as if understanding that, despite everything, Ray still had something to fight for.

It was enough to stir something within Ray. Not peace, not comfort–but the fire of resolve.

Kite stepped forward, his voice low and purposeful. “We’ll figure this out. All of us.”

Ray nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The time for grieving would come later, once they had answers. For now, there was only one thing to focus on–being ready for the mission tomorrow.

The ache in his chest was still there, a constant torment reminding of what had been lost. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. Not yet. He had a promise to keep.

And for now, they had to hold on to that hope–that they would find a way to save Yuma. Together.

Chapter Text

Mizar’s portal flickered shut behind them, sealing away the sights of the carnival and the unspoken horror left in its wake. Kite and Mizar stood again at the quiet threshold of the Tsukumo residence–the modest, traditional home tucked into Heartland City’s glowing skyline. But this time, it wasn’t Yuma they were supporting.

It was Ray.

Ray didn’t speak. The strength he'd found earlier from Mizar’s warmth and Kite’s promise–felt like a dream now. Distant and fragile. He had held onto it as long as he could, but now, in the stillness of this place, it was crumbling.

The weight of the evening–despite the fragile hope he’d managed to cling to–seemed to crush him the moment he saw the house. A place that had always radiated warmth, life and Yuma…now felt too still. Too empty. Its silence pressed in around them like the night itself. His hands curling into trembling fists at his sides, Yuma’s final words echoing like a brand across his mind:

‘P–please… Help him…save Ray.’

‘...I’ll do anything.’

Ray’s shoulders gave way first, his head bowing as shadows slipped over his face. The tears he thought he’d held back returning with cruel force, blurring his vision as they slipped silently down his cheeks.

The pain had returned. Worse than before.

This was his fault. If he hadn’t been so careless–if he’d paid more attention to Nasch’s Shadow–maybe Yuma would still be here. Maybe they could’ve held out, just a little longer. Maybe they would’ve come home together.

Just like they were meant to.

This was supposed to be a beginning. Their night. Ray had only just come back. Their confession, their fusion into ZEXAL, the firework haze of their first kiss and moment together–it was all still so new. So precious.

Tonight was supposed to be their first date. Their celebration.

But instead, all that remained was the echo of grief.

Hadn’t he just found resolve? Just sworn to fight for Yuma, to hold on? Then why did it already feel so far away? Like he was slipping back into the person he thought he'd outgrown...the one who believed this was all he deserved.

That belief–the old, poisonous one crept back in without mercy. And with it came the words he wished he could forget:

‘You don’t get it… I can’t control the future…because there is no future for me.’

He’d said that once. Believed it, even. But, Yuma’s faith in him over the years had changed that. Yet now, as he stood in the dark before Yuma’s home–alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been right all along. Once more an echo of his past words surfaced.

‘Because…this is what I deserve.’

Was it foolish to dream? To think someone like him could find happiness? Could be loved?

His knees threatened to give as the memories surged. His breath caught on a sob.

They would get Yuma back… right?

This couldn’t be the end. Couldn’t be real. And yet, the weight of Yuma’s sacrifice hung heavy around his neck like a chain.

Kite’s gaze shifted toward Ray, heart tightening at the sight. It was like déjà vu. He remembered Yuma in this same place–broken, haunted, barely able to walk. And now Ray mirrored that same pain. Despite how initially it seemed like Ray was pulling himself together better than Yuma had in his own similar situation. But something had shifted and falter and whatever confidence Ray had mustered had been shattered the minute they arrived back at Yuma’s home. Any light that had returned to those purple eyes looked dull as Ray’s form trembled again.

Kite stepped forward. “Come on, Ray…let’s get you settled in,” he said gently—eerily echoing the words he’d spoken that time before.

Ray didn’t answer. His silence said more than words could.

Still, he followed Kite’s lead. Step by step, as though the air itself had thickened. Each movement a weight.

As they neared the door, Kite paused. His attention turning to Mizar as his expression sharpened. Without a word or hesitation he grabbed the Barian’s wrist and pulled him aside, voice low. “Think you’re up for this?”

The question wasn’t accusatory. Not this time. It was more a callback–a subtle nod to the last time they stood like this.

Mizar arched a brow. A smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. “Is that a challenge?”

Kite’s lips tugged upward. “And if it is?”

“Then I think you’ll realize I’m more than capable of attending to Ray’s emotional needs.” His grin turned smug. “Unlike you.”

Kite snorted, but the tension softened between them. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered. “The night’s still young, Mizar.”

There was a beat of silence that followed–as something gentle nestled beneath their banter. Their smirks lingering, not as challenges, but as something quieter. Warmer. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like they were on opposite sides of a line they couldn’t cross. No defensiveness, no awkward restraint. Just the ease of two people finally speaking to each other without pretense. Mizar didn’t feel like a problem to be managed. And Kite, for once, didn’t feel like he was struggling beneath the weight of his feelings for the Barian.

Then their attention shifted.

They turned back to Ray, quiet now, steady. Together, they guided him to the door, walking not as rivals–but as something closer to allies. Closer to…something more.

The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of the Tsukumo home greeted them–a blend of polished wood, faint incense, and the subtle tang of citrus that always lingered near the kitchen. It was grounding in a way Ray wasn’t ready for, and he couldn’t help but come to a full stop in the entryway.

This should have been comforting–but it felt too full of Yuma. The air itself seemed to hold his presence, and for Ray, it was almost unbearable. His breath caught as his fists clenched tightly. This house was Yuma–his laughter in the floorboards, his warmth in the walls. And it left Ray half-expecting to see Yuma descending the stairs to greet him. Yet instead, there was only silence. Only absence.

From the back room, Akari emerged, having heard the soft creak of the front door. Though Yuma had said not to wait up, she’d been elbows-deep in her latest scoop. Yet, that didn’t change the fact she was surprised to see them back so soon. After all, Ray and Yuma had been out on their first official date. Though she did suppose maybe they’d wanted some privacy in a more familiar place. Nonetheless her curiosity prompted her and she stepped forward to greet them. “Yuma? Ray? You’re back earl–”

Her words caught as her violet eyes landed on the group in the doorway. Kite and now Mizar–whom she’d grown more familiar with during Ray’s absence–stood there. But it wasn’t their presence that startled her.

It was Ray’s.

His posture was rigid, like something inside him had splintered and hadn’t been mended. His eyes were bloodshot, the rims raw from tears that had only just ceased. His fingers trembled, lips pressed tight to hold back whatever else threatened to spill out. His expression wasn’t just grief.

It was vacancy.

“Ray…?” She whispered, voice faltering as she stepped closer.

And then the cold shock hit her–no Yuma. The realization blew through her like a sudden chill from an open window, causing her instincts to kick in. She instantly rushed to Ray’s side, hands hovering over his shoulders, afraid that even the lightest touch might make him shatter. “Where’s Yuma?” She asked, breath catching midway.

Ray didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His head bowed low, as if the sound of her voice alone was too much to bear.

Akari whirled toward Kite, voice trembling. “Where is he? What happened?”

There was no accusation–only the raw edge of fear.

Kite’s gaze shifted to Mizar, echoing the unspoken communication from before. “Mizar–” he started.

But he didn’t need to finish. Mizar had already taken Ray’s hand gently and was guiding him up the stairs. Pausing, he glanced back with a teasing grin. “What’s wrong, Kite? Would you rather me fill Akari in?”

A slight smile of appreciation tugged at Kite’s lips as he shook his head. “No, go ahead, Mizar... I’ll be with you shortly.”

The two exchanged a nod–each turning toward their own unspoken task. Kite led Akari gently away, voice low and serious as he began the hard work of telling her what had happened. Meanwhile, Mizar turned his focus to Ray. “This way, Ray,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

Ray didn’t answer, but he moved when Mizar did–quietly, slowly, each step like it took effort to remain standing. He looked like he was somewhere else entirely. Mizar matched his pace with silent patience, still holding his hand–not out of obligation, but as a quiet tether. A physical reminder: ‘You’re not alone.’

They moved through the house in silence, the soft murmur of Kite and Akari’s voices following them for a few steps before falling behind entirely. The stairs creaked under their weight, familiar now to Mizar, who had walked this path more than once now. And unlike the last time, he didn’t wait for directions. He knew exactly where to go.

With ease Mizar led Ray to the bedroom, opening the door with care. The light from the hallway spilling in to touch the remnants of earlier–discarded clothes that had been cast aside in favour of a different attire and a few school supplies tucked in place or stacked carefully upon Yuma’s desk. Things that, to anyone else, might have seemed mundane. But to Ray, they were echoes. A frozen moment from a world that had still felt whole.

Ray lingered in the doorway, frozen. Mizar noticing and pausing with him.

He remembered how Yuma had clung to the bedsheets the night they’d brought him home. How instinct had told him back then to do nothing–to simply sit while keeping watch. But this felt different–because Mizar was more aware now. And because of that, he understood: Ray didn’t want a space to fall apart in. He needed someone to keep him grounded.

Wordlessly, Mizar led him further inside, guiding him to the bed. Ray didn’t resist, but he didn’t react either. He just moved mechanically and numb before hesitating completely when they reached the edge. So Mizar acted. From beside him, he gently lowered them both down to sit.

It was awkward at first. Mizar was still new to comforting others, and as he debated his next move, he felt a quiet weight lean into his shoulder.

Ray had slumped against him.

The contact caught Mizar off guard–but only for a moment. He hesitated, then placed one arm gently around Ray’s shoulders. His other hand, uncertain but determined, reaching out again. Ray accepting the gesture, his trembling fingers curling against Mizar’s with barely a pause. Grounding himself.

Mizar didn’t speak. But still, he stayed.

Ray’s breathing slowed over time. The tension in his frame gradually softening. It was subtle, but it mattered. For so long, it had only ever been Yuma who reached for him. Who stayed. And now…someone else was here too. Unexpected and steady. Offering comfort without condition and that small gesture cracked something in Ray’s chest. Making him feel safe enough to lean into it.

He didn’t know when exhaustion overtook him–only that sleep came softer than expected, and the silence around him no longer felt so crushing.

The door creaked open some time later, but Mizar didn’t move. He simply directed his blue eyes over towards his rival.

Kite stepping inside and freezing at the sight before him: Ray resting against Mizar, peaceful at last. Mizar’s arm still wrapped around him, posture steady. A sentinel–not just guarding Ray, but supporting him.

Kite’s brow lifted–surprise flickering in his expression, but quickly replaced by something else. Respect. Quiet and genuine.

A few additional moments passed, before Kite quietly approached, voice low so as not to disturb the silence that had settled. “Akari’s prepared us a spot in the other living room,” he murmured, casting a glance toward Ray.

Mizar looked down at the sleeping figure against his side, noting how Ray’s breathing had evened out fully now. The tension was gone, his form slack with genuine rest.

With care that was still slightly awkward but no less sincere, Mizar shifted, adjusting his grip as he gently eased Ray backward. Kite stepping in without a word, helping to guide the movement as they laid Ray onto the bed. The Barian’s expression was unreadable, but focused. And Kite noticed how Mizar took the time to pull the covers up snug, even pausing a moment longer to smooth the sheets just right.

Mizar had certainly come a long way since their last visit–and maybe that was why Kite couldn’t look away. His grey-blue eyes lingering on Mizar’s form as he moved with a quiet patience Kite hadn’t expected. There was nothing performative about it. No pride. Just quiet presence.

When they finally stepped back, Ray didn’t stir. Still, they lingered a moment longer just to be sure before Mizar turned to Kite, voice low but certain. “He’ll be alright.”

It wasn’t just reassurance. It was trust. An unspoken acceptance that for now they’d done what they could.

Kite gave a faint nod, his voice just above a whisper. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Something flickered across Mizar’s face–hard to read, but unmistakable. And then, just before he turned, a small smile curved across his lips.

Kite blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in it but he followed Mizar out, quietly pulling the door shut behind them with a soft click.

The hallway was still and dimly lit, the weight of the night still lingering–but not as heavy as before. They walked side by side as Kite led Mizar toward the spare living room, their footsteps quiet, but steady.

The spare living room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a table lamp Akari must’ve left on for them. The space was simple, but warm–blankets folded neatly at the foot of a futon already laid out, along with a second on the couch nearby. A gesture of quiet thoughtfulness, one Kite had come to expect from Yuma’s sister.

Mizar stepped into the room first, casting a quick glance around before moving to the futon without a word. Taking care as he had the previous time to shed all unnecessary clothing articles down to his boxers and folding them meticulously. Before he sat down slowly, as if the tension of the night hadn’t quite left his body. Kite followed suit, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it gently over the arm of a chair, stripping down to an undershirt and his boxers before moving toward the couch–noting that it appeared they wouldn’t have to share a bed this time. There was no ceremony to it–just tired, practiced movement. The kind born of too many long nights like this one.

But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Just, calm.

Kite dropped onto the couch with a quiet exhale, letting his head fall back against the cushion. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. The house around them had simply gone quiet. Only the hum of the city outside the windows broke the stillness.

Then, after a long pause, Mizar spoke–his voice lower than usual, but steady. “You’re talking to me, normally again.”

Kite didn’t answer at first. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, the furrow in his brow slowly softening as silence settled again between them–this time quieter. Easier.

Then finally, his voice came, low but honest. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Across the room, Mizar didn’t move. His posture was relaxed now, but his gaze stayed sharp, attentive. “So…was it just the chaos that made you stop?” His tone carried the faintest teasing, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.

Kite turned his head slightly, eyes meeting Mizar’s from across the room. “No,” he said, more direct this time. “It wasn’t the chaos. Not entirely.”

Another pause. Another breath. And then, “I meant what I said back at the Nova Rise,” he continued, voice steady. “I don’t want to be your rival anymore. Not like we used to be.”

Mizar tilted his head, something flickering in his gaze–surprise, perhaps. Or maybe something warmer. “Then what do you want, Kite?”

This time, there was no challenge in his voice. Just quiet curiosity.

Kite sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped between them. “That’s the part I still don’t know how to say,” he admitted. “But... I’m not running from it anymore. You deserve better than that.”

There was a silence, not heavy–just full. Charged with something unnamed but deeply felt. Mizar shifted slightly, turning to face him more fully. “Me?” The word came out low, almost incredulous.

Kite nodded, slowly. Then, after a pause, he added. “...Back at the Carnival. When you were helping Ray–I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if it were you.”

Mizar blinked, his expression faltering–surprised, but not dismissive. “You’re worried about me?” He asked, not mockingly. There was something else there. Quiet appreciation.

Kite’s gaze didn’t waver. “Weren’t you worried about me?” He countered, softer now. “You brought back the modified serum of Barian technology... After the duel with your shadow. You didn’t have to do that.”

Mizar opened his mouth–but the words caught and remained unsaid... Instead, he glanced down at the futon beside him, then gave a small, almost uncertain pat to the empty space. “Will you join me?”

For Kite, this–this–was the moment he’d been waiting for. Not in words, but in choice and action. And yet he hesitated.

Not out of discomfort, but caution. This was new territory–for both of them. But then, without a word, he pushed himself up from the couch and crossed the small space between them. The distance felt longer than it was, the weight of unspoken things hanging gently in the air. But eventually he reached Mizar, slowly settling himself beside him. Close but not quite touching.

For a while, they said nothing. Just breathed in the stillness around them.

And then, slowly, Mizar shifted. Not abruptly–but with that same awkward, cautious intent he’d shown when comforting Ray earlier. His arm came to rest behind Kite’s back, a question posed in the form of a gesture.

Kite didn’t just lean into it.

He closed the space fully.

With a quiet exhale, he let his shoulder press against Mizar’s, the weight of his body shifting ever so slightly as he relaxed into the offered support. His head came to rest just barely beneath Mizar’s jaw, his movements slow, deliberate. Not seeking approval–just allowing the closeness he’d once thought impossible.

Mizar stilled–but didn’t pull away. Instead, after a moment’s pause, his arm adjusted to fit around Kite’s back more naturally. A little firmer. A little closer. No more awkward edges–just warmth.

The futon blanket rustled as Kite shifted again, this time turning enough to allow one of his arms to slide gently around Mizar’s waist. Not clinging–just there. Just real. The quiet hum of tension that had always marked their time together faded into something gentler. Something safe.

And as the night deepened around them, so did the silence. It wasn’t avoidance now–it was peace. Earned and quiet and grounding.

Mizar wasn’t used to this kind of silence–soft instead of sharp. He could still feel the weight of Kite against him, and for once, it wasn’t a burden or a challenge to brace against. It just was. For so long, he’d assumed affection was something he didn’t need to understand. That closeness was something meant for others–softer people, easier lives. But this? Kite choosing to rest beside him, with him–it was a gesture he hadn’t expected.

And it meant more than he understood or knew how to say.

As Kite’s breathing slowed, Mizar turned his head slightly, letting his chin rest lightly atop Kite’s head.

And in that small, quiet moment they both eased back to lay in place, allowing sleep to take them—together.

Chapter Text

Soft morning light seeped through the window of the spare living room, gently nudging Kite awake. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the warm glow. A quiet weight against him registering in his mind, grounding him in the present. His grey-blue gaze shifting towards the source as the familiar form came into view.

Mizar.

Still asleep, his head resting against Kite’s chest, as one arm draped loosely around his waist. The steady rhythm of Mizar’s breathing anchoring Kite, a quiet reminder of the night before. And while Kite hadn’t said everything he’d meant to, this…this was a start.

Yet, it still felt surreal. Ever since his feelings had begun to take shape–after Mizar delivered the modified Barian crystallization therapy–he’d never thought a moment like this could be possible. They had always been rivals. They hadn’t even been friends, not really. Even if Kite had stepped in during Mizar’s Duel with his Shadow, and even if after they’d began working together…things hadn’t exactly been smooth.

And his feelings had only made their dynamic more complicated.

But now, with Mizar sleeping soundly against him–open and unguarded, Kite found himself grateful to be wrong. Grateful that Mizar had learned to meet moments like this with understanding, not scorn. After all, if he hadn’t…this moment would’ve stayed impossible.

Kite tightened his grip slightly, allowing himself to linger in the moment–the warmth, the rhythm, the fragile comfort of something once impossible. His hand rested gently on Mizar’s back, fingers splayed across bare skin, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. It was unfamiliar–this kind of touch, this kind of stillness–but not unwelcome.

If anything, it felt right.

Kite let his eyes drift closed–finally, some form of peace taking hold.

There was something about the quiet that felt deeper than usual. The way their breaths fell into rhythm–slow, even, steady–that was soothing and oddly in sync. Kite hadn’t noticed it before, but now, with Mizar resting against him like this, it was impossible to ignore. As if their bodies had reached an understanding even before their words had.

The house remained still and calm around them, the soft city hum filtering in through the window.

His thoughts, no longer tangled in grief, drifted quietly and hopefully. Fragile, yes. But real. And when Kite opened his eyes again, a slight shift stirring beside him.

Mizar blinking awake, lifting his head just enough to meet Kite’s gaze. A sleepy, familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re staring,” he murmured. “As usual.”

Kite didn’t look away. “Yeah… I guess I am.”

Mizar’s smirk softened, his expression easing into something quieter, steadier–some small measure of peace. Then, without a word, he let his head settle back down, returning to that unguarded position against Kite’s chest. It wasn’t something disliked–this closeness, but it would still take time to adjust to…to feel more natural. Yet, for now, he was content. And he let his blue eyes close as he nuzzled in a little, that playful smirk returning as he steadied himself with the soft beat of Kite’s heart beneath his ear.

Kite’s hand rested on his back, fingers now brushing slowly along his spine in a quiet, thoughtful motion. Letting himself memorize the warmth of the moment. The softness of it. Something to hold onto before the day pulled them apart again. And slowly, his chest rose with a quiet breath. “Mizar…” He started, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something I should–”

But the words faltered.

From somewhere outside came the low rumble of conversation–voices, distant but growing clearer. Footsteps making their way up to the front door.

The others were here.

The weight of reality slipped in, slicing through the calm with a harsh reminder that Yuma needed them. There wasn’t time to focus on himself anymore and Kite exhaled slowly, tilting his head back further against the pillow as the moment dissolved.

Mizar was already stirring once more as his head rose, blue eyes blinking before they found Kite’s own eyes once more. He said nothing, but his eyes made it clear–he understood. Yet, whether he heard it or simply felt it, Kite wasn’t sure.

Kite offered a small, tired smile. There was nothing light about it, but it was still a smile–slow and deliberate. The words he hadn’t said yet hung in the air between them, unspoken but felt. He wished he could say them. He should have said them–before they went out to face what might be their last battle. But now wasn’t the time.

He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with a quiet sigh. “Whatever I was going to say...it can wait.”

Mizar didn’t argue. But the flicker in his eyes this time, and the faint tension in his jaw, showed he’d caught the shift in Kite’s tone–both the hesitation and the weight behind those words.

Kite reluctantly pulled away as the pair began to sit up, rising to his feet before reaching for his pants–only to pause again. Glancing back down towards Mizar, he spoke–his voice quiet but edged with a hint of humor to mask the weight. “Don’t go doing anything reckless before I get the chance.”

Mizar raised a brow–a quiet smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “You planning on giving me that chance?”

Kite gave a dry huff, as he began to dress. “I’m planning on both of us making it out of this. So yeah…eventually.”

It was easier to mask it as another reckless promise, to bury the weight of it before it could crush him. Given he didn’t know if they'd both make it back. But deep down, his words felt like a lie–an attempt to convince himself, more than anyone else.

Mizar didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze lingered on Kite, a quiet flicker in his eyes–brief but telling. The faint tension tightening his jaw spoke of something unspoken beneath the surface: a fragile hope, newly sparked, shadowed by the unfamiliar fear of losing something he’d never thought he’d want.

‘That better not be a promise you plan on breaking,’ Mizar’s eyes seemed to say–an unvoiced warning wrapped in a fragile challenge.

Still, he said nothing more. A silence settling between them–steady and patient. An understanding that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Then, without another word, the two began to prepare.

Mizar, as always, moved with careful precision–every motion purposeful, deliberate. Kite, on the other hand, was driven by efficiency alone, his mind already drifting toward the challenges ahead. And just like that, the moment they’d shared faded, slipping back into the unspoken space between them.

Mizar was the first to reach the door, pausing at the threshold. His gaze flickering back to Kite–lingering, expectant, as though waiting for something unsaid. A silent question in the air. Kite didn’t hesitate, crossing the space to join him, their steps syncing as they moved toward the main room.

But as they stepped through the door, Kite’s steps faltered for just a moment.

He turned, eyes lingering on the now-empty room–the stillness of it, the faint, almost intangible warmth that still clung to the air.

It was too quiet. Too still.

Kite exhaled slowly, shoulders tightening as he tore his gaze away, only to realize Mizar had already moved a few steps ahead. The gap between them was small, but it felt more like a chasm in that moment. One Kite moved quickly to close and always would. But the distance lingered, heavy and unspoken.

They didn’t speak as they crossed the hall, the quiet chatter from the main room growing louder as they neared it. Where the others were gathered.

But just before they reached the doorway, Kite stopped, his hand lightly catching Mizar’s wrist. The contact was brief, but it grounded them both. “Mizar…” His voice was soft but steady. He hesitated and then asked, “Can I leave Ray to you? You handled him well yesterday, and I think that familiarity will help. I’ll go greet the others.”

Mizar turned toward him, assessing his face for a moment, the faintest flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, with a brief nod, he shifted direction–without a word, heading toward the stairs leading to Yuma’s room.

Kite watched him go, the weight of his quiet departure settling in his chest. He exhaled slowly, turning back toward the rising noise of the others and towards whatever came next.

The familiar faces of Shark, Dumon, Rio, Quattro, Alito, Kotori, and Girag were already gathered, each of them radiating their own silent resolve, all waiting for the same thing. But before any of them could speak, a sudden sputtering noise sliced through the air.

“Ma–Ma–Master Kite!” Orbital 7 rushed forward, the usual mechanical hum in his voice replaced by an uncharacteristic urgency. “I have arrived with the report you requested! Unfortunately, the residual energy from the portal did not provide sufficient data–”

Kite’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and impatient. “Get to the point, Orbital.”

“Y-Yes, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 straightened quickly, voice tightening with purpose. “–I was about to abandon the search when I realized Nasch’s Shadow’s signature was not only distinct but also lingering. Because it remained active longer than expected, I was able to isolate the energy trail. I-I believe I’ve pinpointed Don Thousand’s likely destination.”

A moment of tense silence followed. The weight of the words hanging in the air, thick with the realization of what this meant.

Kite’s eyes narrowed, resolve hardening in his gaze. “Then it’s time for action.”

Shark stepped forward, his posture rigid, eyes hard with unyielding determination. His voice, cold and steely as it cut through the tension. “Don Thousand’s about to learn he never should’ve laid a hand on Yuma.”

Rio’s nod was decisive, her voice firm without a hint of doubt. “And we’ll teach him that lesson together.”

Quattro crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yuma’s always been the one to drag us forward… Guess it’s our turn to pull him out.”

Kotori’s eyes met Kite’s briefly, the weight of the shared promise clear between them. “We’re bringing him home. No matter what it takes.”

Alito cracked his knuckles, fiery impatience bubbling beneath his calm. “Let’s stop talking and start punching. I owe that Deity a proper beatdown!”

Girag’s voice was low, steady and determined. “Guess it’s payback time.”

Dumon, quiet and composed as always, stood firm by Nasch’s side, his voice cutting through the air with the weight of urgency. “We cannot be certain how long the energy signal will hold. We must act before it fades entirely. We may not get another window.”

The room was thick with agreement, the tension coiling tighter with every word. No one spoke, each of them locked in their own thoughts, until–

A soft creak of floorboards broke the silence, sudden and sharp.

Heads turned as Mizar stepped into the room, composed as always, but with a quiet gravity in his expression. Just behind him came Ray.

Ray’s posture was straighter than the night before, but the weight hadn’t left his eyes. If anything, it had settled deeper–tempered into something sharper. Purposeful.

It was as though the night’s silence, Mizar’s comfort and the rawness of his grief had forged something new within him. Something that now held him together even when his emotions were still unsettled beneath the surface. The trembling had stopped, but there was a flicker of something else. A quiet determination that made his presence harder to ignore.

Kite’s gaze flicked to him. “Ray.”

Ray met his gaze without faltering. “I’m ready.”

It wasn’t a declaration of certainty. Not yet. But there was a quiet, steady note to it–a bridge between the raw, broken man who had crumpled earlier and the one who was about to step into a battle. The resolve wasn’t fully formed, not yet, but the will to keep moving forward had begun to take root. The silent moments of rest, of Mizar’s presence grounding him, had let him find that fragile thread of strength again.

And that was enough.

No one questioned it. No one needed to.

Mizar gave a subtle nod beside him. His expression softening, a silent acknowledgment that Ray had started to take the first step out of the darkness.

For a moment, the group fell silent again–not out of doubt, but out of understanding. With Ray here, the last piece had fallen into place.

Kite turned to Orbital 7. “Are the preparations complete to depart?”

“Y-Yes, Master Kite! Preparations for the ship are complete. Your father will be expecting our timely arrival to depart,” Orbital 7 exclaimed with a salute.

“Good. We can’t afford to waste any more time,” Kite said, his eyes shifting to Mizar. “Do you think you can open a portal to the research facility?”

Mizar nodded without hesitation, already moving to prepare the way. The group beginning to gather around–

But then, a sharp voice cut through the silence: “Wait!”

Akari rushed into the room, a wrapped box in her hands as she made a beeline for Ray. “I’m expecting both you and my brother back for dinner,” she said firmly–her voice gentle, but resolute.

Then, her gaze flicked across the room, to the others preparing to depart. She hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing, the urgency of the mission weighing on her even as she handed the box to Ray. Her tone softening. “I know you’re leaving early…so I figured you’d need something before then, too.” She held the box out toward Ray. “Just…make sure you save some for Yuma.”

Ray’s eyes lingered on the box for a moment–he could almost feel Yuma's absence in the space between them. But Akari was looking at him with that same quiet expectation, and the warmth in her eyes–however brief–spurred something steady to rise within him. When he met her gaze, it was different now–there was no doubt in it. “Then please ensure our places are set,” he said, a quiet fire returning to his voice as he accepted the offering.

Akari stepped back as Mizar’s portal took form, but Ray held her gaze for a moment longer. In that silence, her words settled in, a promise that felt more like a vow. Then, without a word, the group vanished into the light of Mizar’s portal. “Bring him home,” she whispered, as if the world itself were listening.

* * *

The portal dissolved with a faint hum, depositing them into the vast, gleaming expanse of one of Heartland City’s Research Annexes. Cool, sterile air replaced the warmth of Yuma’s home, and the soft echo of their footsteps mingled with the low drone of machinery.

Kite led the way forward, eyes sharp and steady, but a storm seemed to churn just beneath the calm surface of his expression. Behind him, Ray’s posture was firm, though there was a hardness to his shoulders that suggested an inner battle still waged. Mizar, as always, moved with his usual precision, his gaze steady, but this time, there was a quiet weight to it, too.

The group approached the waiting ship–sleek and quiet, ready to carry them into the unknown.

Near the boarding ramp stood Dr. Faker, arms crossed, his face a neutral mask. But the moment he saw Kite, something flickered in his eyes, a subtle recognition of the past and present converging. Beside him, Hart’s face brightened when he saw his brother, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Big Brother!” Hart called out, the joy in his tone unmistakable–but the tension in his eyes, the way he took a cautious step toward Kite, spoke volumes of the emotions still tied to the last time he’d seen him leave on such an important mission. Right before he’d lost him.

Kite smiled faintly, his lips curling but the weight of it sagging in the corners of his eyes. “Hart.” His voice was softer than usual, as he reached out, ruffling his younger brother’s hair with the kind of tenderness only family could inspire. Though the gesture, familiar as it was, felt heavy with unspoken words.

He turned toward his father then, the two locking eyes for a brief, meaningful moment.

Dr. Faker’s expression hardening as his gaze shifted to the assembled group, eyes moving from one person to the next. “You’re early. Good. The ship’s pre-flight checks are complete, and your coordinates are loaded.”

Orbital 7’s mechanical voice broke the brief silence. “Ma–Master Kite! Course alignment and systems are optimal!”

Kite nodded sharply, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his focus, a clear reminder of the high stakes.

His father, however, didn’t soften. His voice was more clinical now, but edged with something else–concern, perhaps, but still measured. “The energy signature you’re pursuing is unstable and foreign. You won’t know what you’re stepping into.”

Kite’s jaw tightened, his gaze never wavering. “We don’t need to know everything. Just enough to find him.”

A moment of silence passed, and then Hart’s voice cracked through, tremulous but clear. “You’ll come back this time, right?”

The words hung in the air, far heavier than they appeared. Even now, that last mission to the Moon, when Kite had left–unsure of whether he would return–still haunted Hart’s every step. It was a fear he could never fully shake, not after losing his brother.

Kite’s expression softened at the question. For a moment, his eyes seemed to linger on his younger brother, as though searching for the right words. But the years had taught him there was no way to promise certainty in this line of duty. No way to assure someone they wouldn’t be left with a hollow silence when the dust settled.

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Mizar stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension with unexpected firmness. “I will personally see to Kite’s return,” Mizar said, his words direct, but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. A resolve. Something born not just of responsibility, but of a shared history–the weight of which was not lost on anyone in the room.

The others glanced between them, but Mizar’s focus remained solely on Hart, his eyes unflinching, despite the memories his words stirred. He had been there five years ago, too. He had been the one to fight Kite–the one arguably at fault for Kite never coming back from. And now, Mizar would see to it that this mission wouldn’t end the same way.

Hart blinked, his thoughts catching up to him. It wasn’t just the memory of the mission that weighed on his mind anymore. It was also Mizar–the same man who had spent an entire day running after a missing love letter, a letter that Hart had written on the behalf of his brother, in hopes of helping Kite express his feelings for Mizar.

The memory of the chaos surrounding the lost letter and Mizar’s earnest, unknowing involvement–flashed through Hart’s mind. The way Mizar had spent hours helping him, not once asking why it mattered so much, not once pressing him for the truth about the letter’s purpose. Mizar had just been there, reliable and steady, doing everything he could to help…

Hart’s gaze flickered briefly to Mizar before he nodded–just a small, acknowledging movement. His voice was quieter now, softened with sincerity. “Thank you, Mizar,” he said appreciatively, his tone carrying something deeper than gratitude. “Please, take care of my big brother.”

Mizar’s eyes softened for a moment, the usual guarded mask slipping just a fraction. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Hart’s shoulder as reassurance–an unspoken promise. “I will.”

The weight of his words hanging in the air, offering Hart the comfort he needed to erase his doubts. Mizar would protect Kite. He would be there for him–just as he had been for Hart.

Ray shifted a little himself, stepping forward with a quiet intensity, his expression raw but resolute. His gaze locking on Dr. Faker and Hart, a weight carrying in the words that followed. “And I will too,” Ray said, his voice a little unsteady but no less sincere. “I know I’ve caused…a lot of pain. To you and your family…to everyone… I don’t expect forgiveness. But I swear–Kite will come home.”

There was something different in the way he said it, something solemn, as though the words were more than just promises. They were atonement. His gaze never wavered, even as he met Dr. Faker’s sharp eyes.

Ray’s chest tightening as the weight of the past pressed down on him. He could feel the years of guilt and the ghosts of past mistakes still haunting him. And he wasn’t asking for forgiveness–he knew that would take more than words. But he would show, with his actions, that he could be trusted. That he had changed.

“And…thank you,” Ray added, his voice breaking the silence that lingered. “For the ship. For this chance. For trusting me…even a little. I won’t take it for granted. And I won’t waste this chance–not when Yuma’s life is on the line.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, no one spoke. Dr. Faker’s gaze was steady, unblinking–the weight of his silence heavier than any response. He knew exactly what Ray–or rather, Vector–was referring to. The years of history between them seemed to hang in the air. Until finally, he broke the silence. “Vector.”

Ray’s gaze snapped to him, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But Dr. Faker’s next words were measured, not accusing, not cruel–just firm. “What you’ve done can never be undone…” His voice trailed off as his eyes flickered towards Hart.

Ray’s jaw tightening. He didn’t need to hear it again. He knew it all too well.

“But,” Dr. Faker continued, his tone shifting, “I have to own my part in this as well.”

Ray’s brows furrowed, surprised by the unexpected turn. Dr. Faker’s gaze meeting his again–this time with a steady acknowledgment.

“I was the one who set all of this in motion. My choices led me down this path.” His eyes briefly flickered once more to Hart, who was still listening in silence, before returning to Vector. “I entered that pact with you, not because of any higher cause, but because I saw something I wanted. I thought I could control the outcome. But I was wrong.” He let the words linger, heavy with regret.

Ray swallowed, the weight of the moment sinking in. He’d never expected Dr. Faker to shoulder some of the burden himself. It made everything more complicated–and yet maybe, just maybe, it made it easier for him to forgive himself too.

Dr. Faker continued, his voice softening but still resolute. “I didn’t foresee the cost, not just to you, but to all of us–especially to my children, Kite and Hart. But I know...it was never just your choices that shaped this path. It was mine, too.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy but necessary. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t absolution. But it was something more human: understanding.

Ray nodded quietly, processing the depth of Dr. Faker’s words. He had already carried so much guilt for what he’d done–but hearing Dr. Faker say it aloud made something inside him settle. There was a mutual recognition of the responsibility they both shared.

Ray took a deep breath, letting the gravity of everything wash over him. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Hart, who had been listening quietly, glanced up at his father, still not fully understanding the complexity of this shared history between him and Ray–having been so young at the time, and even after, shielded from many of the details. But despite his confusion, he felt the weight of the moment shift.

“Good,” Dr. Faker said, his voice firm but with an unspoken note of understanding. “We have a long road ahead to redemption. So let us both play our part.”

Ray gave a final nod before turning toward the ramp, the weight of past decisions still heavy on his shoulders, but the path forward clearer now. He wasn’t perfect, and he couldn’t undo what had been done–but he would make sure that Kite and Yuma would come home. No matter the cost.

The moment lingered in the air, thick with the unspoken understanding between them all. A fleeting silence hanging over the group as the reality of what lay ahead settled in.

Hart stood motionless, his gaze darting between the three of them–Mizar, Dr. Faker, and Ray–his mind still processing their words. He felt something deeper than just the danger of the mission rising within him: the promise they were all making–not just to Kite, but to each other.

Then, as if the weight of it all suddenly became too much to bear, Hart moved forward, the knot in his throat tightening. He stepped up to Kite and wrapped his arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “Come back, big brother...and bring Yuma with you,” Hart whispered, his voice shaking. The words were soft but carried the weight only family could bear. His golden eyes glistening with both fear and hope as fresh tears threatening to fall.

Kite returned the embrace, holding his brother with a rare gentleness, a quiet promise lingering in his touch. “We will, so don’t you worry, little brother. I’ll see you sooner than you realize.”

His father watched them in silence, his face unreadable. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “The ship is yours for as long as it’s needed. Whatever’s waiting for you out there–be careful.”

Kite nodded once, sharp and deliberate, the weight of his promise and the hope of his family settling over him. Then, without another word, he turned toward the ship. The others falling into line, the ramp beginning to rise behind them.

Outside, Hart and Dr. Faker remained standing, side by side. Both of them watching the ship as it surged into the sky, disappearing into the clouds, carrying with it all the hopes, fears, and memories that had led them here.

Kite had no promises left to make. But he knew deep down–that this time, he had to come back. Not just for himself, but for everyone who was watching.

And for the one who needed him most.

Chapter Text

The ship glided through the dimensional rift like a needle threading chaos. Outside its reinforced hull, space twisted and bled colour–blues, purples, reds–streams of light coiling and unraveling like the folds of broken reality. It was a corridor between worlds, but where it would lead them still remained unknown.

Inside, the ship’s interior bore the marks of its three lead creators. Every surface gleamed with cold white light–Dr. Faker’s doing–while reinforced alloys crisscrossed the floors and ceilings, seamless and practical: Byron’s work. But every so often, a curve in the wall or a flicker of soft ambient light added something else: the quiet, intentional grace of Quinton’s hand.

The cockpit was lined with pulsing blue screens and sleek white consoles. Lines of energy moving like veins through the walls, glowing gently with power–efficient, sterile, but beautiful in its own way. This wasn’t Barian technology but the latest masterpiece of Heartland City.

The ship hummed beneath them–a low, ever-present thrum like the heartbeat of something vast and unknowable. Through the wide cockpit viewport, the dimensional corridor twisted in unnatural spirals, bands of color flashing across space like shattered auroras. And each fluctuation could collapse into chaos if misjudged. But Kite Tenjo remained unshaken.

Kite sat at the helm, one hand braced against the console, the other hovering just above the navigation interface as the ship glided through the pulsing chaos of the dimensional corridor. The swirling energy outside bathed the cockpit in shifting tones of violet and gold, casting flickering patterns across his focused expression.

He hadn’t said much since launch. He didn’t need to. His mind was occupied–calculating trajectory, shielding thresholds, instability spikes. To most, it would’ve seemed like total focus–but there were moments, brief and quiet, when his eyes drifted toward the co-pilot’s seat.

Where Mizar sat.

The Barian’s posture was composed, as always, in his slightly reclined chair–one leg crossed, but hardly idle. His fingers danced across the auxiliary systems, adjusting stabilizers and pulse-thrusters. Blue eyes shifting to navigational readouts, scanning various sections of the console. But every so often, he glanced sideways–catching Kite’s brief looks with a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

It was familiar. But different now.

The space between them no longer felt cold or insurmountable. It felt small. Like the narrow gap between their seats–measurable and crossable. A distance that no longer needed to feel like a battlefield.

Kite’s fingers tapped once against the panel, his voice low and almost offhanded. “Keep this up,” he said, not looking over. “And I might just replace Orbital 7 with you.

There was no bite to it. No tension. Just quiet implication–subtle and cautious, but real.

Mizar didn’t immediately answer. He simply raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening with just enough restraint to keep that smirk from tipping into smugness.. “Hmm. While this ship could benefit from upgrades to meet even the most modest Barian standards…” He let the comment trail for effect, then added, quieter, “It’s not the worst proposal.”

A horrified squeal shattered the moment from somewhere behind them. “Ma–Master Kite! You don’t mean that!” Orbital 7 cried, zipping toward the console, tiny tools shaking in mechanical distress. “I–I was only recalibrating the graviton dampeners!”

Kite exhaled slowly–a breath that was almost, almost a laugh. His eyes didn’t leave the viewport. “Relax, Orbital. I’m sure we’d find something for you to do.”

Mizar gave a low chuckle under his breath, his gaze lingering on Kite for just a moment longer before settling back on the monitors.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just calm. Familiar. Like a thread of understanding had been woven between them–quiet, but steady.

And the two allowed themselves to find solace in this moment, knowing full well that what lay ahead would not allow for many more.

The hum of the dimensional corridor echoed softly through the vessel, a low, constant resonance that filled the silence between conversations. In the main cabin, dim lighting kept the atmosphere calm, broken only by the flicker of passing energy outside the ship’s viewing ports.

Quattro sat back on one of the couches, his arm lazily curled around Rio’s form, her head resting gently against his. Her fingers laced quietly with his in her lap, their touch a wordless tether. Her eyes, half-lidded, remained fixed on the flickering lights beyond the window. There was something quiet in their connection–comfort woven through familiarity–and for now, neither of them spoke. They were simply existing together, savoring what could be the last peaceful moment before the storm.

Across the room, Alito was mid-story–arms animated, gestures wild, voice filled with enthusiasm that barely seemed to notice the tension pressing in from all sides. Kotori sat curled up beside him, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she listened. Every so often, she reached out to gently tug him back down from one of his more dramatic flourishes, grounding him in the moment. The lightheartedness, in such a heavy time, felt like oxygen. A reminder that not all hope had been lost.

Nearby, Girag sat with arms crossed, his broad frame hunched over in a chair clearly not built for his size. He occasionally chimed in with a sarcastic jab or dry remark at Alito’s expense, but mostly he listened, watchful. His gaze lingering on the others with quiet intent, the kind of alertness honed from years of knowing when peace could be shattered in an instant.

By one of the reinforced side windows, Dumon stood still, hands loosely clasped behind his back as he watched the corridor streak by in silence. Nasch had been shooting the occasional glare toward Quattro for some time now–nothing new, but eventually, he turned and made his way toward Dumon instead. His footsteps soft against the floor.

He didn’t speak immediately. Just stood beside Dumon, their shoulders almost touching, both watching the same swirling chaos outside.

“You’ve barely said a word,” Nasch murmured, voice low enough to be just for Dumon.

Dumon didn’t turn. But his hand shifted slightly, reaching down to take Nasch’s in a quiet, grounding gesture. “I’m watching,” he said. “And thinking.”

They stood like that in silence, fingers intertwined.

Then, after a long moment, Dumon added, “I can’t help but feel something is coming. And whatever it is...we won’t come back the same. None of us.”

Nasch let the words sit. Let them echo, before responding. “We’re not the same already.”

Dumon’s eyes closed briefly, brows softening in thought. When he reopened them, he gave the faintest nod. “I suppose we’re not,” he agreed.

There was a faint gleam behind Dumon’s eyes–uncertainty, worry, something unspoken that lingered too long in silence.

Nasch turned his head, catching it. “What is it Dumon?” Nasch asked, voice low. “Something’s bothering you.”

Dumon offered a small, strained smile. “I suppose I’m not as good at hiding it from you as I thought.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I was the only one shaken by what happened…seeing Vector like that, broken, after Yuma was taken.”

His voice dropped slightly, and his gaze met Nasch’s–direct, steady. “But what troubles me more…is you.”

The weight of the words landed between them, quiet and heavy. “I know how much Yuma means to you. I know you’ll do whatever it takes to save him–and I would never ask you not to,” Dumon said carefully, his voice softening. “But I also know you. You’re determined to a fault. And I’m asking you–just this once, to be careful.”

He hesitated, then added, quieter still, “Because I want you to come back.”

Without another word, Dumon reached down to unclip his Duel Deck. With a soft click it opened and his fingers moved with care as he pulled free two cards–Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry and Number C102: Archfiend Seraph. He held them out to Nasch, hand steady. “When you face him… Don Thousand,” Dumon said softly, “I want to be there with you.”

Nasch blinked at the offered cards, tension tightening across his shoulders. “Dumon, I can’t take these,” he said firmly. “What if you need them?”

Dumon’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was calm–gentle. “...I have a feeling you’ll need them more.”

There was a pause, thick with unspoken meaning. Then Nasch slowly reached out, taking the cards and sliding them into his own deck. He glanced up, about to speak–when Dumon moved.

Before Nasch could react, Dumon’s arms slid around him, and their lips met.

For a split second, Nasch froze, eyes wide–but his instincts were faster than his doubt. His arms wrapping around Dumon, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. There was no hesitation. No more room for it. Dumon rarely let his guard down like this, and the weight of that gesture told Nasch everything.

This wasn’t just love.

This was goodbye–just in case.

“I love you, Nasch…” Dumon whispered, slowly drawing back.

But Nasch didn’t let go.

Instead, he pulled Dumon into one more kiss–longer, fuller, with the kind of gravity that made the words that followed land heavier. “I love you too.”

Dumon lingered in the embrace, his fingers tightening slightly against Nasch’s back, as if resisting the urge to stay a moment longer. But then, with a quiet breath, he shifted–always the one to set aside his own needs when someone else needed more. “...Vector’s been absent a while,” Dumon said gently. “With Mizar and Kite occupied, someone should check on him.”

Nasch blinked. “And you think that should be me?”

Dumon gave a small, knowing smile. “I won’t make you go alone. But… I think coming from you, it might mean more.”

Nasch shrugged slightly, but he knew better than to dismiss Dumon’s words–and so, with a quiet breath, he gave a firm nod. The moment between them faded into motion as they set off through the ship, moving with quiet purpose in search of the one who had quietly slipped away.

Neither of them could blame Vector for needing space. Without Yuma at his side, it had to be difficult–to see others sharing the closeness he’d lost. A painful reminder of what had been taken from him.

Eventually, they found him on the observation deck, standing alone beneath the shimmer of dimensional light.

Dumon lingered by the doorway, choosing not to intrude but he offered a reassuring glance–wordless support–as he gave a small nod, silently encouraging Nasch to go forward on his own.

For a moment, Nasch hesitated–his gaze lingering on the familiar figure ahead. But then, he drew in a slow breath and stepped forward, letting the soft hum of the corridor beneath his feet guide him.

His pace was steady, but he stopped just a few paces behind Vector.

The other Barian Emperor hadn’t turned. He stood with his back to him, framed by the wide observation window, the violet-gold light of the dimensional corridor bathing his silhouette. His shoulders were tense. His arms braced slightly against the railing. Silent.

Nasch didn’t speak at first. Didn’t want to break the moment without cause. There was something raw in the air, something that felt too fragile to shatter with a careless word.

So instead, he waited.

Waited to see if Vector would acknowledge him–or if he would have to take the first step.

Ray didn’t glance back, but the shift in energy told him exactly who it was. Familiar, heavy and unmistakable. Still, his gaze stayed fixed on the swirling chaos beyond the observation window, where streaks of violet and gold twisted endlessly into the unknown. “Well,” Ray said after a moment, his voice quiet–measured. “This is a bit unexpected.”

There was no arrogance. No venom. Just the faintest thread of surprise woven beneath the words, as if he hadn’t been sure anyone would bother coming after him. Or maybe, he hadn’t thought he would.

“I’m okay, if you’re worried,” he added, slower this time. Not dismissive, but not fully believing it either. As if testing the waters. As if he wanted to believe it mattered. “...But I’m guessing that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay, Vec–Ray…”

Shark’s voice was quiet, but steady. He’d seen the state Ray had been in the night before–broken in a way that couldn’t be faked, not even by someone like him. It wasn’t like that performance five years ago during their Duel. This time, there was no audience. No advantage to be gained. Just pain–raw and unguarded.

And even now, it lingered. In the slump of Ray’s shoulders. In the silence that stretched too long. Maybe he was trying to pull himself together, trying to find something–someone–to anchor to. But Shark knew better than to believe this was all just an act.

Besides, they’d been moving forward. Slowly. Uneasily. But forward all the same. And if there was ever going to be something real between them–not as enemies but as allies–then it had to continue in trust.

“But that’s where you’re wrong…” Ray’s voice came, low and steady, though it carried a weight that dulled its edges. “I do have to pretend everything’s okay.”

He still didn’t look back–but his shoulders rose just slightly, as if the words themselves were heavier than they should’ve been. “Yuma’s counting on me,” he said, quieter now. “And I need to be strong. For him.”

Ray exhaled slowly through his nose–a breath that scraped against his ribs. His fingers curling slightly along the edge of the railing in front of him.

“I don’t get to just keep falling apart,” he said, more to himself than to Nasch. “Not now. Not with what’s coming.”

He gave the railing one last squeeze, as if grounding himself, before turning and leaning back against it. His eyes meeting Shark’s directly.

“And I need you to be strong too.”

Shark’s brow furrowed, catching the shift in Ray’s tone–less vulnerable now and more urgent. “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?”

Ray hesitated and that hesitation was telling in itself. “Because I’m not,” he admitted. “Not yet.”

The words settled in the space between them, heavy and deliberate.

“I… I just need you to trust me, okay?” Ray said, his voice softer now, eyes betraying desperation and something close to fear. “I know it’s a lot to ask after everything–but please, Shark…you have to trust me on this.”

Shark’s posture shifted, his presence becoming more imposing as Nasch–the leader of the Seven Barian Emperors–surfaced fully. His eyes narrowing with cautious suspicion as he stepped forward. “What are you planning, Vector?”

Ray’s expression tightened, but didn’t falter. “Something reckless. But maybe…necessary. No–it is necessary. This is for Yuma.”

He paused, a moment of silence hanging in the air. Then his voice dropped, low and steady. “Whatever happens…when it happens–just remember this moment.”

Ray’s words lingered–weighty and cryptic, like a thread waiting to unravel.

Shark took a half-step forward, as if to press for more–but the ship suddenly jolted beneath them. A low, guttural hum echoed through the metal walls, followed by the unmistakable shudder of the shields activating.

From the intercom above, Orbital 7’s voice buzzed through, sharp and alarmed.
“Dimensional distortion detected! Multiple hostiles incoming–barrier integrity compromised!”

Ray’s eyes snapped up toward the ceiling, jaw tightening. “He knows we’re coming...”

A crackle of dark energy split across the expanse outside–monstrous forms emerging from the rift, distorted by Don Thousand’s power and heading straight for the ship.

Shark’s hand moved to his deck instinctively. “We need to get the others–”

But Ray didn’t move.

Ray was already shifting–his form warping into his Barian one, of his true self: Vector.

“Ray—!”

“I told you,” Vector said over his shoulder. “Trust me.”

Without hesitation, Vector opened a Barian portal with a flick of his hand–light fracturing around him as he vanished from the interior of the ship to the outside in an instant. Then, without a glance back, he launched himself deeper into the dimensional chaos.

Shark–still without his Barian powers–could only watch as Vector wove through the oncoming monsters, slipping further into the corridor and out of sight.

Back in the cockpit, the ship rattled again from another impact. Kite’s hands gripping the controls tighter as he barked commands at Orbital 7, who scrambled to stabilize the shields. But for a moment, everyone froze.

Even Mizar.

A streak of violent purple energy had just cut across the front viewport–just outside the barrier. A figure, unmistakable in its form, darting between dimensional anomalies and monsters with reckless speed.

Mizar was already rising, his expression sharpening.

Kite turned at the sudden movement. “Mizar?”

“That was Vector,” Mizar said tightly, his form already glowing as he shifted into his Barian state. “He’s going after Don Thousand–alone.”

“Mizar–wait! Just hold on!” Kite called, reaching out–but his fingers only met empty air as Mizar slipped through his Barian portal and vanished.

Now outside the ship, Mizar hovered for a breath, casting one final glance back toward the vessel. His blue eyes locking on the cockpit–on Kite, for a moment that stretched longer than it should have, thick with unspoken emotion… Offering a silent and deafening goodbye.

And then he shot off after Vector.

Inside the cockpit, Kite stood frozen, one hand still outstretched. A tight breath escaping him, low and bitter. “...I told you not to do anything reckless before I got the chance.”

And beyond the shields, two Barian lights vanished into chaos.

Chapter Text

The only thought on Vector’s mind now was Yuma.

That singular focus burned through everything–fear, doubt, even reason. And he surged forward, his powers stabilizing more around him–no flicker and no resistance. The restrictions that once interfered with his Barian form no longer surfacing. Not here at least–given he was close. Close enough to Yuma. Close enough to his Baria Crystal that his true form held steady. And that told him everything, he was almost there. Perhaps only moments away from reaching the Barian Deity from his past and Yuma…

Not that he’d ever doubted it.

Even back on the ship, he’d felt Don Thousand’s presence–subtle, but unmistakable. That same sickening pressure he remembered from the carnival, when the deity first emerged from within Yuma. And whether that connection came from once being a host himself, from the remnants of their old deal, or simply because Don Thousand wanted him to feel it–it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he could use this connection to find the ancient Barian Deity.

But one thing had struck him as odd, if Don Thousand truly wanted to reclaim the Emperors’ powers, why hadn’t he taken Vector’s the other night? Why wait?

Yet, if he’d been inside Yuma all this time… Maybe he never saw the rush to retake them. Maybe he knew Vector would come to him. That his reckless and obsessed drive to protect Yuma, would always lead him back to Don Thousand eventually–and most likely alone...

But even if this was a trap, it changed nothing.

Because the only thing that mattered was Yuma.

A final burst of fractured light tore through the corridor ahead. The space before Vector shimmered and warped, reshaping itself into something alien–something broken. And when the world steadied, he found himself in a shattered realm: jagged rock formations floated like shattered islands, drifting silently in a swirling void. The air pulsing with a fragile tension, the echoes of a long-lost civilization whispering through the emptiness. Leaving him with a faint reminder of Sargasso.

At the center of this void hovered a wide circular platform, its worn stone cracked and fractured, ringed by crumbling pillars that leaned like ancient sentinels. Energy coiling around the structure like smoke, humming softly with every pulse of the space.

And there at the heart of it all–stood Don Thousand, fully in control of Yuma’s body.

Across from him, facing the Barian Deity alone, was the Shadow of Nasch.

But as Vector drew closer, it became painfully clear–he was too late. The Duel was already lost. He barely had time to land before the Shadow took one final, devastating blow–its form hurled backwards, skidding across the cracked stone floor. Smoke curling from its fading silhouette as it came to rest at Vector’s feet.

Its hollow desperate eyes locked with Vector’s for a fleeting moment. A silent warning to run, before it was too late.

Then the Shadow dissolved, breaking apart into tendrils of black smoke and shadow that spiraled upward, drawn toward Don Thousand. The Deity, still puppeting Yuma’s body, extending a hand. To which the essence curled into his palm, merging seamlessly back within him.

And then those cold, lifeless eyes turned to Vector.

For the first time in a long while, true fear flickered in Vector’s chest. Doubt following close behind. Did he really think he stood a chance here? Against Don Thousand? He already knew how this would end. He had lived it once before–and this time, Yuma wasn’t there to protect him. No hopeful voice, no guiding light. Only the monstrous god that had once consumed him.

Still…despite the fear, despite every instinct screaming at him to run–he couldn’t.

Not this time.

Whatever the cost, he was ready to fall here–or to return with Yuma. There was no middle ground.

Vector drew in a steadying breath, forcing his shoulders square, as he took a defiant step forward. “I’ll give you one chance,” he said, voice sharp despite the weight in his chest. “Release Yuma, or you’ll regret it.”

Don Thousand blinked slowly, amusement curling at the edges of his lips. Not with surprise or intimidation–but with cold amusement. “As expected,” he murmured, voice smooth and cold like polished obsidian. “The mad prince has once more loses his mind.”

He stepped forward, shadows pooling around him like living darkness. “Though, your defeat is inevitable. Watch and despair at how little you can do to protect yourself, how utterly powerless you are before me.”

He raised Yuma’s hand, fingers curling inward with deliberate slowness. With each motion, a brutal pressure blossomed in Vector’s chest–first a weight, then a scorching burn, finally needles of pure agony threading through his heart. His knees gave way as he collapsed, clutching his chest, gasping. “Ho-How can you–?!”

His vision blurred as darkness crept in at the edges.

Don Thousand’s grin widened–unnervingly human, yet utterly hollow. He shifted his voice seamlessly into Yuma’s softer tone. “How quickly you forget. You belong to me…as much as he does.”

He knelt, lifting Vector’s chin with Yuma’s hand–fingers gentle, almost tender. The cruelty burning behind those once-kind red eyes, unbearable. “Did you truly believe our pact ended with my ‘death’?” Don Thousand purred. “Your lifeforce, your power, your very soul…they still carry my mark.”

He paused, savoring Vector’s trembling breath. “And now, how deliciously poetic…to wield the one you love most against you to reclaim what was once mine.”

Vector’s eyes widened–terror flickering through the haze beyond his pain. Don Thousand leaning in close, voice dripping in silk and rot. “But fear not. You will find comfort soon enough…”

His smile split wide–sharp, merciless, inhuman. “Because you will be together again. In the dark–”

“If you want him, you’ll have to defeat me first.”

A crack of yellow lightning split the air, followed by a surge of chaotic energy.

Mizar descended in a sharp flare of Barian light, his Chaos energy already coiling around his hand–crackling in black and red, ferocious and untamed. And without hesitation, he hurled it forward, even if the blast wasn’t meant to strike. Given he knew better than to expect it to land. It was a distraction–just enough to create an opening. Just enough to get closer.

Just enough to reach him.

“Mi–Mizar?!” Vector gasped, his voice tight with disbelief as the Barian Emperor closed the gap in an instant. And in one fluid motion, Mizar had yanked him back with one arm before stepping into position between him and Don Thousand.

The protective gesture was reflexive, instinctive and immediate–Mizar not even sparing a glance over his shoulder, his focus entirely on the looming figure of Don Thousand.

Don Thousand straightened with a slow, deliberate motion, rising from his crouch as though utterly unimpressed by the interruption. Yet, faint amusement danced in the shadows of Yuma’s eyes. “Still foolish,” Don Thousand mused, almost curious. “Tell me, Mizar… You would challenge me again, despite how easily you suffered defeat at my hands?”

Mizar’s response was cold, unyielding. “I’m not afraid of you,” he answered, his voice like tempered steel, sharp and steady. His Duel Disk already flaring to life at his side. “So, do you accept? Or are you only brave when your opponent is already broken?”

That brought a full, sickening smile to Don Thousand’s lips. It wasn’t Yuma’s innocent grin, but something far darker–something twisted, puppeteering Yuma’s features into a grotesque mockery. “So be it,” Don Thousand replied, his voice thick with amusement. “A challenge…how amusing, though ultimately futile. When I finish with you, I shall reclaim both your power and Vector’s.”

With a casual gesture, Don Thousand extended Yuma’s arm forward. A twisted gauntlet of black surging into place, wrapping tightly around Yuma’s forearm with a low, ominous hum of power. The gauntlet's single, unblinking eye opening wide, cold, and eternal. The familiar shape of Don Thousand’s signature Duel Disk manifesting into place.

“Let us Duel,” Don Thousand declared, the words cold and final.

“As I said before–you never should have challenged me, Mizar. Take solace in the fact that this will be your final mistake,” Don Thousand’s voice was flat, cold–but the cruel undertone dripped from each word like venom. With a sharp, practiced motion, he drew a card from his deck.

His gaze flicked briefly to it expression unreadable–but it wasn’t the card that mattered. It was the calm, detached way he slid it silently into his hand, a look that only deepened the chilling uncertainty in the air. “I will do nothing more than end my turn.”

Mizar’s eyes narrowed. The same tactic as last time…again?

Unease stirred deep within Mizar–unease he quickly shoved down. Don Thousand had used this move before. A move that left nothing on the field. No monsters. No spells. Just an empty battlefield. A void.

But this time it had to be a bluff. It had to be.

As why? Why leave himself open? There was no Numeron Code this time, no ability to twist reality to his will and rewrite the game. No tricks to make Mizar’s deck betray him. Don Thousand couldn’t cheat his way to victory here. So why repeat this strategy? Why make himself vulnerable?

Yet, before Mizar could react, a low, familiar chuckle echoed across the field, grating on Mizar’s nerves. It was the same laugh from their last Duel–Mizar’s ‘final’ Duel–the same voice that had threatened and still threatened to twist every ounce of hope Mizar had left.

“‘Do my moves shake your resolve, Mizar?’” Don Thousand questioned, quoting his words from five years ago with unsettling precision.

Mizar’s fists clenched at his sides, and his teeth ground together, a hot surge of anger rising in him.

But he wouldn’t let himself be rattled. Not this time. And even if this was the end, he would hold steady. He would buy the other’s time. He had to. Someone would follow him–likely Nasch, Dumon or Kite… Someone would pick up where he left off–if he was bested.

However, that still wasn’t a reason to falter and lose. Not now. He wasn’t the same man who had been humiliated before. He wasn’t the same Duelist who’d been forced into defeat. He had the skills and his abilities had never been the problem. No, Don Thousand had twisted reality to his advantage, to create an unfair fight. But that wasn’t possible now. There was no Numeron Code. There was only the game.

And here, in this moment, it was two Duelists on equal footing.

Mizar’s eyes met Don Thousand’s with a fiery defiance, the weight of his resolve crashing through his words. “I draw.”

He raised his hand to his deck and drew his first card. The weight of the moment pressing on him, and for the briefest second, his mind flickered with doubts. Should he take the initiative, go on the offensive right from the start? Or would it be smarter to play it cautious, biding his time until he understood the full extent of Don Thousand’s strategy?

His eyes flickered to Don Thousand–still unnervingly calm and his empty field a continual reminder that he’d made no move. And the uncertainty only grew. It was hard to gauge the deity’s intentions without knowing what kind of deck he was using. Yet, Mizar knew better than to let that stop him.

This wasn’t just about winning. This was about proving something–that if their first Duel had truly been based on skill alone, that Mizar would have come out on top. It was about redemption, about showing Don Thousand that the previous victory had been a fluke. Though, there was more at stake here than pride. There was Yuma, Vector and the other Barian Emperors–as well as Mizar’s own life on the line. Their fates tied to this moment.

Mizar’s resolve hardened, his grip on his cards tightening. He could no longer afford hesitation. No more second-guessing. Too much was on the line. His desire to protect, to win for Yuma, for Vector, for the others burning fiercely in his chest.

He wasn’t here to lose. Not today.

Yet again, as his fingers hovered over his cards, ready to face Don Thousand’s relentless power, his thoughts betrayed him, flickering back to moments with Kite.

‘I don’t want to be your rival anymore.’

Kite’s voice brought him back–his thoughts drifting to moments shared in the quiet spaces between them–the shifting in their dynamics as rivals. They had simply existed with one another in ways that felt too fragile to explore, but too real to ignore. That underlying shift in how they saw each other, in how they allowed themselves to be…seen.

‘That’s the part I still don’t know how to say… But... I’m not running from it anymore. You deserve better than that.’

There was an undeniable connection that had begun to blossom between them–one Mizar had never needed, had never thought to desire. Affection, comfort–things meant for others in softer lives. And yet, when Kite’s words hit him, something inside him had shifted. As though, in that moment, a door he hadn’t even known was there had creaked open.

‘Don’t go doing anything reckless before I get the chance.’

The vulnerability in those words hit harder than anything else. The rawness told him everything he needed to know. But it also terrified him. What if they didn’t survive this? What if everything they’d shared–the words, the moments–remained nothing more than a passage lost to time, full of ‘what-ifs’? Maybe Kite would survive–hopefully still safe with the others–but Mizar? He had put duty above everything else, because in that moment, he had been the only one able to act. Yet, leaving Kite’s side, seeing that disheartened expression on his rival’s face, had felt oddly wrong… But in the end, Mizar had known he was the only one who could support, Vector.

He had to set aside his own emerging needs for the greater good, but that didn’t erase the quiet unfamiliar ache in his chest. The lingering worry that this moment–this fleeting softness, this understanding between them–might never truly be his to claim. What if the fight he faced now cost him more than just a Duel? What if it took away the chance to ever know what it felt like to be something more than a rival? Something more than what he had always been?

The cards in his hand trembled slightly as his fingers gripped tighter. He couldn’t think about that now. Had he not already acknowledged there was no room for hesitation? Once more he was reminded himself that he had to win. Once more he reinstated that this was for Yuma, for himself, for the Emperors, and for the fragile hope that things could be different….

But still for some reason he was faltering–in the corner of his mind, he couldn’t shake the thought that lingered: ‘What if he never got to experience that promised moment with, Kite?’

Mizar felt a warmth on his shoulder, pulling him back to the present. He glanced over to see Vector–at some point he must have found the strength to rise and move to Mizar’s side. And his presence felt grounding, solid–an unexpected support in this moment. Much as Mizar’s own presence of support must have been back at both the carnival and Yuma’s home. Yet, there was a quiet understanding forming between the pair, born of their shared loyalty to Yuma and the trust that had begun to form through their struggles. And Vector’s words came softly, encouraging, as if he knew exactly what Mizar needed to hear.

“We’re going to see them again,” Vector said, his voice firm yet gentle. “If anyone stands a chance against Don Thousand, it’s you, Mizar.”

The simple affirmation hit Mizar like a surge of clarity. For a moment, the weight of his fears–the uncertainties, the regrets–faded, replaced by something solid and unyielding. Vector was right. They would face this, together. He had to believe that. For the others. For himself. And for the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could still have that chance with Kite.

With a quiet breath, Mizar nodded, a bit of his fierceness restoring itself as he finally proceeded with his turn. Vector remained at his side, grounding him as Mizar played his first card. “I activate Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One!”

“Appear in all your fearsome terror–Number 107: Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

A sharp roar echoed as Mizar's Number card hit the field. The familiar, mechanical black dragon, accented in purple and red, materializing on the Duel field. “Now go–Chaos Xyz evolution!”

As quickly as it appeared, Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon dissolved into reddish particles, merging into the forming Overlay Network. The swirling energy coiling and crackling with power. “Face the multiverse and ignite new life into my great beast! Come forth–Chaos Number 107: Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

From the Overlay Network, a massive three-headed golden dragon emerged, adorned with pink gems–to which some were outlined in black. Four long tails flicked lightly through the air, and six imposing wings spread wide as it settled into place. Without hesitation, Mizar pointed forward. “Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon, take aim! Ultimate Tachyon Spiral of Destruction!”

The three-headed dragon unleashed its golden breath, coiling beams of energy shooting directly at Don Thousand. It would be a decisive blow, ending the Duel–if Mizar’s suspicions about Don Thousand’s deeper strategy didn’t cloud his mind. And sure enough, Don Thousand reacted swiftly. With ease, he puppeted Yuma’s hand, drawing a card and activating it. “I play the Quick-Play Spell, Overtake Summon,” Don Thousand announced. “It allows me to detach one Chaos Overlay Unit from your monster to Special Summon a Level 4 monster from my hand.”

“I don’t think so,” Mizar replied coolly. “Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon uses its Chaos Overlay Unit–to transcend time. Your card’s effect is negated, and the field returns to the way it was at the start of the turn–”

“But, unfortunately for you, the attack continues!”

Don Thousand’s expression remained unchanged as he removed another card from his hand, summoning a new monster. “I call forth, Gagaga Gardna.”

A humanoid figure with a large shield materialized on the field. “I can summon this card when you declare a direct attack,” Don Thousand explained. “And by discarding one card from my hand, it can't be destroyed in battle.”

Without a second thought, Don Thousand manipulated Yuma's hand, sending a card into the Graveyard. The blast from Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon colliding with Gagaga Gardna, yet the monster remained undestroyed. Still, Don Thousand's Life Points weren't safe. Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon's attack points of 4500 was greater than Gagaga Gardna's 1500, and Don Thousand’s Life Points instantly dropped by 3000, leaving him with just 1000 Life Points.

A flicker of panic crossed Vector’s eyes, knowing that Yuma was taking the damage alongside Don Thousand. But as the smoke cleared, Don Thousand remained unscathed, unmoved, and disturbingly calm. Though, even if Yuma was still standing in a sense– it did little to bring comfort to Vector, knowing that Yuma was involved in this in any way to begin with. Yet, he had to put his faith in Mizar to resolve this Duel as quickly as possible. And if there was any reassurance from the first round that could be found, it was that they now understood what Don Thousand was working with.

Though Vector’s thoughts couldn’t help but spiral. This was Yuma’s deck…his heart. He’d had a creeping suspicion this might be the case, but Gagaga Gardna had erased any doubts of it being otherwise. Don Thousand was clearly adding salt to the injury by not only controlling Yuma, but his deck as well and Vector wouldn’t stand for it. His fist clenched tightly at his side, his sharp nails digging into his palms and drawing light blood as he gazed ahead at Don Thousand angrily. “Don’t let him get inside your head,” Mizar said quietly beside him, sensing Vector’s turmoil.

“...But he’s playing Yuma’s deck!” Vector exclaimed defiantly, the anger and pain clear in his eyes.

“So he is,” Mizar replied, his voice steady and firm. “But he won’t be much longer.” He assured, setting a card in his Spell & Trap Zone. “I set a card and end my turn.”

Vector slowly nodded, swallowing the bitter taste of helplessness forming inside.

“It is commendable that you survived past the first round this time. But any hope you may have had will end, here and now,” Don Thousand said, his hand moving to Yuma’s Deck. “It is my turn and I draw!”

In a swift motion a card was pulled free, the Barian Deity not hesitating to move straight into his turn. Playing his first card right away. “I activate Monster Reborn! And with it I call Gagaga Magician to the field.”

Don Thousand manipulated Yuma’s hand towards the graveyard pulling free the card he discarded during Mizar’s assault placing it on his field. A white haired magician taking form, before he proceeded into the next step. “Next by targeting a Gagaga monster on my field, I can special summon, Gagaga Child.”

Without hesitation the monster card was placed on the field, the small humanoid with a popsicle in hand appearing. “I activate, Gagaga Child’s effect to increase its level to 4.”

The small monster responded by chowing down on its blue popsicle and presenting the wooden stick proudly, the Level 2 display shifting to 4. Don Thousand slowly puppeting Yuma’s hand brought it skyward as he proceeded. “I now Overlay, Gagaga Child and Gagaga Gardna.”

At once, the Overlay Network took shape as the two monsters dissolved into light particles and spiraled into it. “And Summon, Number 39: Utopia!”

From within the Overlay Network, the familiar form of one of Yuma’s signature card emerged, clad in white and gold. Its appearance twisting something deep within Vector.

He should have been the one to face Don Thousand. This was his fight. His mistake. His Yuma… And now all he could do was watch as that sacred bond was paraded before him–weaponized against them both. Even as his heart clenched and he wished Don Thousand had given him a fair shot to duel, that was not the case. And Mizar had stepped in because of that, leaving Vector to support from the sidelines. However, it did not make this moment any easier. Nor what would come next, since Don Thousand was playing with Yuma’s deck–and knowing this, both he and Mizar understood exactly what the arrival of Yuma’s card meant.

“But I will not stop there, I will activate–Rank-Up-Magic Numeron Force and Overlay Number 39: Utopia. I Xyz Summon, Chaos Number 39: Utopia Ray Victory.”

Utopia dissolved into light particles that swiftly entered the Overlay Network, soon replaced by the familiar sleek white and red mecha-warrior that emerged onto the field. The holographic display showing its 2800 attack points.

Vector’s breath hitched, a bitter taste returning to his mouth as Utopia Ray Victory emerged. This wasn’t just any card–this was Yuma’s card, a weapon now pointed against them. The last time this card was played was during their duel against Girag’s Shadow–where his Umbral Horror Masquerade and Yuma’s Utopia Ray Victory had transcended to become Masked Transcendent Utopia, a symbol of their bond made manifest, much like their awakening to ZEXAL Morph: V. Yet now those happier times seemed like a distant memory–one he could no longer reach. His fists clenched tighter, a storm of helplessness and fury swirling inside.

“Furthermore, I activate Xyz Treasure. With two Xyz monsters on the field, I draw one card for each.”

Once more Don Thousand’s hand moved to his deck, pulling free two new cards. His field’s potential set to grow more from this one turn and what that meant for Mizar had yet to be seen. But neither he nor Vector would have to wait long to see where Don Thousand intended to take things. “Do you now see that any hope you had is futile? There is more that will come as I summon Achacha Archer.”

A humanoid archer in armour and a yellow tunic appeared on the field as the card registered. “With its summoning I can now deal 500 points of damage directly to you, Mizar.”

The archer took aim with its arrow launching it straight forward, the blast from the impact sliding Mizar back as his life points dropped from 4000 to 3500. “Gagaga Magician now uses its special ability to change its Level from 4 to 3.”

“He’s Xyz summoning again?” Vector couldn’t help but mutter.

“I am..” Don Thousand responded coldly. “You will both soon learn how foolish you were to challenge me. I Overlay Achacha Archer and Gagaga Magician–”

The monsters instantly dissolved into particles as a swirling Overlay Network formed, the streams of energy coiling together as they entered. “To bring forth Number 17: Leviathan Dragon.”

A blue six-winged dragon emerged to take its place beside Utopia Ray Victory on the field, before Don Thousand spoke once more. “Tell me…Mizar, Vector–how does it feel to have your friend’s deck used against you? To know it will be because of your dear, Yuma…that you will both fall here?”

“The only one falling here is you–once and for all!” Vector shot back, anger boiling up inside as his hand clenched into a fist.

Mizar extended his arm out to stop his fellow Barian Emperor from advancing forward and as a means to try and settle him. His blue eyes directing to Don Thousand despite how his words addressed his companion. “...He wants to rile us up so that we make a mistake. We need to focus on this Duel and seeing it through to the end,” Mizar said calmly, despite how he had not appreciated the comment either.

“The only end waiting for you two is that of rejoining me, now watch as I activate the Spell Card, Release, Reverse, Burst. By tributing Leviathan Dragon I can destroy that trap card you intended to use against me Mizar,” Don Thousand said cruelly.

Mizar tried to hold his composure but shock flashed behind his eyes as if questioning how the Deity knew what he had intended. “I know how much your dragon means to Mizar. That you would take every precaution to protect it. But now I will remove that lifeline and sever your dragon from you.”

As soon as Don Thousand’s spell card hit the field both Leviathan Dragon and Mizar’s trap card were instantly destroyed. “Now I assume you know what comes next…”

“N-No. No!”

Mizar’s eyes widened in helpless horror. His breath caught–and for the first time in this Duel, he broke. The terror behind what he knew was coming next clear as day. He was about to lose his Galaxy-Eyes…

“By using one Chaos Overlay Unit, Utopia Ray Victory gains your monster’s attack points. Now destroy Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon!”

Mizar could only watch as Utopia Ray Victory charged forth, cleaving its sword and shattering his beloved dragon into particles of light. His Life Points plummeted to 700 as he took 2800 points of damage. The force of the blow sending him hurtling across the platform, his Barian form flickering away–altering into his human one–just as he was flung over the edge.

Vector’s eyes widened in horror. “MIZAR!”

His body moved before thought–diving into the drop after Mizar. Wings tearing through the dark, one arm outstretched, fingers grasping toward the falling figure–because he had to believe he’d make it.

Yet, belief wasn’t always enough…

Chapter Text

‘...Kite…’

Kite froze.

The voice was faint. No louder than a breath, no echo–yet it struck something deeper, beneath thought, beneath reason. A whisper threading through his mind, unspoken but undeniable.

His grey-blue eyes darted over his shoulder toward the rift beyond the ship’s hull. Nothing. Just fractured space, lingering energy, and the fading crackle of battle. Yet, the weight of that voice pressed in–his voice.

Mizar’s.

Even his dragon shifted. Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon halted mid-flight, its gaze fixed beyond the hull, as if it too had caught that silent call–a call neither could ignore.

A shadow flickered over Kite’s face. His eyes sweeping over to the others: Alito was chatting with Kotori and Girag. Rio and Quattro casually reshuffling cards while talking with Dumon. And Shark’s sharp glare locked on Quattro–until it lifted to meet Kite’s glance. No one else had noticed.

Was he imagining it? Was it a trick of exhaustion or fatigue setting in? They’d just repelled yet another wave of Don Thousand’s monstrosities, meant to delay them after all. Still, the moment lingered–a thorn pressing deep beneath his ribs.

“Kite?”

The crack in his focus came with the approach of footsteps, Shark’s voice pulling him back.

Kite snapped to attention. “It's nothing,” he said quickly, brushing aside the unease. But even as he spoke, the weight didn’t lift. Instead, something heavier stirred–a presence tethered to him, faint but growing.

The sooner they reunited with Vector... and Mizar, the better. Only then could Kite stop replaying that final glance they’d shared–separated by the glass of the cockpit window. Only then could he believe it wasn’t his last time with Mizar. That they’d see each other again. That, finally, they could have their moment without the crushing weight of Don Thousand’s threat pressing down on them, forcing duty over everything else.

And that silent hope tethered Kite’s heart across the void–while for another, it felt as though it were slipping away…

Mizar could feel himself plummeting–falling further from the platform above, the world fading as gravity dragged him down. And still, he couldn’t summon the strength to pull himself back. He was teetering on the edge of oblivion, eyes closed, the darkness creeping in with a strange, eerie calm.

The Duel oddly no longer mattered. Only one thought lingered at the edge of his awareness–Kite. A final comfort, in what he assumed would be the end.

But just as he surrendered to that weightless quiet, a sudden jolt ran through him.

Something warm seized his hand. And along with it came a presence–familiar and determined–pouring strength into his limbs. Mizar stirred, tilting his head up; blue eyes slowly blinking open as the blurred world sharpened at the edges. His mind clung to one name in that suspended moment–Kite?

But it wasn’t Kite.

It was Vector.

“Mizar, don’t let go!”

The urgency in the voice shattered the haze. Reality rushing back in–along with the pain, the Duel, and the looming threat. Mizar’s eyes cleared fully, focus sharpening. His fingers flexed, then gripped tighter around Vector’s hand, anchoring himself once more.

Relief flashed across Vector’s face the moment he felt Mizar respond–he’d made it just in time. Vector tightened his hold, reaching his other hand down to secure Mizar before flying back toward the platform. Once they’d reached solid ground, they both collapsed onto the rocky surface, taking a brief moment to catch their breath. Vector shifting back into his human form–not out of comfort, but to conserve energy. If things escalated again, he’d need every reserve he had.

But peace was short-lived.

From across the field, Don Thousand remained–his presence wrapped around Yuma’s body like a parasite. Cold eyes narrowing in disapproval as he watched the two Barian Emperors. In his mind, they should have succumbed to the fall…or run while they had the chance. Yet here they stood–shaken but unbroken.

A mistake he intended to correct.

“Amusing,” Don Thousand intoned. “Your demise may have been delayed had you chosen to flee. But perhaps now you understand–it is hopeless. No matter if you run, no matter if you welcome death, no matter if you continue this farce of a Duel…all paths lead to the same end. You will fall and rejoin me…alongside Nasch’s Barian powers.”

Ray was already forcing himself to his feet, breath shallow but determination hardening in his gaze. He reached down, helping Mizar up before squaring his shoulders and locking eyes with Don Thousand. “We’re not going to fall here,” he snapped. “But you will. And once Mizar wipes the floor with you, you’ll be nothing more than a bad memory!”

Don Thousand remained unmoved, his expression hollow and chilling as ever. “How quickly you forget… I’ve already removed Mizar’s precious dragon from play.” His voice dripped with disdain. “You have nothing left to turn this Duel around. Your stubbornness only delays the inevitable–” A slow, deliberate pause. “–and it’s becoming tedious. But very well…if you insist on struggling, make the most of your final turn.”

As the two Barian Emperors retook their positions, Ray placed a steady hand on Mizar’s shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Mizar gave a slight nod, though the weight in his chest was heavy–the ache from losing his Tachyon Dragon lingering. His fingers brushed over the remaining cards–none could resummon his dragon, and none offered a clear path to victory. And this truth gnawed at him: their chances were dwindling, and he couldn’t promise Ray–or himself–that things would turn out. That Ray saving him had even been worth it...

A gentle squeeze broke through the spiral. Ray’s grip, steady and grounding, as it reminded Mizar he wasn’t alone. And then came his voice, calm and unwavering.

“Don’t forget who’s waiting for you to return.”

The words struck deeper than expected. Mizar tensed slightly, his blue eyes flicking to Ray–but in his mind, the image blurred into another. Kite.

Mizar’s chest tightened.

And somehow, just those few words lit a spark. A reminder that he didn’t need to win this turn–he only had to endure. Drawing in a slow breath, Mizar raised his hand to his deck with renewed focus.

“Then it’s my turn. I draw!”

But the hope was fragile.

As Mizar’s eyes scanned the drawn card, a faint breath caught in his throat. His hands beginning to tremble.

‘Dragon King’s Demise.’

The very card he’d once believed could end this fight–back during his original Duel with Don Thousand.

Was this fate’s final joke–that he should draw it now?

His grip tightened, knuckles paling. And with it came a flicker of a memory–brief and piercing–one that would soon be lost to time. A moment that would never create new ones. Not in this lifetime...

A quiet room. The soft shadows of Yuma’s house. He and Kite, alone. And a fragile silence, thick with things left unsaid.

‘I’m planning on both of us making it out of this.’

Those words and the memory landed like a punch to the chest. His breath catching. And yet...a sad smile found his lips. Even now, with the weight of everything pressing down, one truth remained:

He knew what had to be done to end this.

With a sharp motion, his hand moved. “I summon Heliosphere Dragon!” Mizar called.

A small, purple dragon burst onto the field. And without missing a beat, he slammed a Spell Card into place. “Next, I activate the Spell Card–Galaxy Wrath! By choosing not to conduct battle, I can Special Summon a Level 4 monster from my hand. I chose to summon a second Heliosphere Dragon!”

Another burst of light erupted beside the first–an identical dragon shrieking into place. Across the arena, Don Thousand’s brow lifted–not out of fear, but recognition. The pieces were falling into place. Mizar had used this strategy before. This wasn’t a play for survival.

It was an execution.

Still, Don Thousand did not appear shaken.

His mind drifted beyond the battlefield, already entertaining the notion that he might fall here. But what was one defeat to a god? Time meant nothing. As he would always return–as long as Chaos existed in the world–he would rise again.

And yet, he watched with faint curiosity, as if wondering how far Mizar was willing to go for this fleeting victory. For a world that had once betrayed him.

“I overlay my two Heliosphere Dragons!” Mizar shouted. “With these monsters, I build the Overlay Network–Xyz Summon: Galaxy Stealth Dragon!”

The twin dragons dissolved into light, spiraling upward as the Overlay Network opened with a vortex of energy. A sleek black dragon erupted forth–its frame trimmed in gold and pink, wings flaring as it hovered defiantly above the field.

“Now I activate Galaxy Stealth Dragon’s effect!” Mizar declared. “By detaching one Overlay Unit, I can Special Summon a Dragon from my hand! Appear–Nebula Dragon!”

A second burst of light cracked across the field as a radiant dragon cloaked in gold, with embedded violet gems materialized beside Galaxy Stealth Dragon, its energized wings gleaming brightly.

Both dragons stood poised, their 2000 attack points gleaming in tandem–more than enough to guarantee mutual destruction for him and Don Thousand.

Now, there was only one move left to make.

Mizar’s fingers curled tightly around his final card, a strange heat stinging behind his eyes. This was it–the moment he’d been denied five years ago. A chance to set things right. To finish the Duel...and make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good.

And yet, as he stood on the edge of that moment, all he felt was emptiness. Before, he had nothing left to lose. Now, it felt like everything was being left behind.

If only there had been just a little more time…

Mizar drew in a breath, eyes drifting shut. “...Take care of them,” he said quietly. “All of them. Look out for one another...and stay together.”

Ray’s expression cracked, his widening eyes locking onto Mizar just as his fellow Barian Emperor turned toward him. Mizar’s blue eyes were open again, glistening–barely holding back the storm. The raw, vulnerable emotion on his face setting off every alarm in Ray’s mind, panic rising as he tried to process what was about to happen.

“...And Ray–once Yuma comes back…don’t ever let him go.”

Ray’s voice broke. “Mizar–what are you talking about?! What are you planning?!”

But before Mizar could answer, another voice cut in. “Mizar intends to end the Duel here and now,” Don Thousand announced, detached and cold. “By activating the Spell Card Dragon King’s Demise. He is prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

Ray’s horror was immediate as he stepped back in shock, shaking his head. “N–no. No! You can’t!”

Mizar’s gaze fell, heavy with regret. “...Tell Kite I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft, as Mizar tried to reclaim his calm and commanding presence. But the rawness of the painful reality hanging over the moment still bled through. “That I’m sorry…he won’t get to give me that chance.”

Ray stepped forward, desperation flooding his voice. “No! I won’t tell him! Because you’re going to be there for that moment!”

But Mizar shook his head slowly, eyes darkening with resolve.

“Please–there has to be another way. Don’t do this!”

Mizar’s gaze drifted back to Don Thousand. His hand moving toward his Duel Disk with the Spell Card. Ray’s voice began to falter, drowned beneath the storm of the final thoughts roaring through Mizar’s mind:

‘Farewell, Kite... You will be the true Galaxy-Eyes Master now. Do not squander the legacy I leave you.’

The pressure behind his eyes crested, and a single tear slipped free–catching the light like a dying star as it fell. And in that instant, he heard it.

‘Mizar!’

His hand froze mid-motion. His eyes snapping wide. Was that…? Was he imagining things? And yet if this truly was the end, maybe he could allow himself this one final moment of delusion. ‘…Kite?’

‘Mizar–what do you think you’re doing? You’d never just hand over that title. Aren’t you even going to fight for it back!?’

There was no anger in the words–just desperation and frustration laced with something deeper. Real and unmistakable.

Mizar’s chest tightened. At first, the words sounded like a challenge–familiar and pointed, the kind they’d exchanged countless times as rivals. But there was something different beneath them now. A rawness. A plea. Kite wasn’t talking about fighting for a title...he was asking Mizar to fight for them. For the future they’d never dared to name.

This wasn’t about an actual Duel or rematch. It was about the moment they hadn’t gotten–the words they’d never said. The chance Kite wasn’t ready to let go of…not yet.

‘There…won’t be any more ‘Duels’ after this,’ Mizar’s voice echoed back in his mind–quiet and resigned. He’d taken Kite’s words and turned them into something else. A farewell. A truth he couldn’t say aloud: that their chance would never come.

There was a pause. Then Kite’s voice returned, softer this time. ‘You’re facing Don Thousand…aren’t you?’

‘Yes. But this Duel will end soon. Ray and Yuma… they’ll need you. You have to–’

‘NO, Mizar!’

The cry cut through him like a lightning strike. But it still wasn’t anger. It was desperation–raw, unguarded, and cracking under the weight of what Kite wasn’t ready to lose. He wasn’t just fighting fate…he was fighting Mizar’s choice to vanish without ever knowing what could have been. ‘You still don’t get it–WE need each other!’

Mizar’s breath caught, a tangle of fear and hope twisting inside him. Those words, raw and alive, shattering something deep within. ‘What are you saying…?’

‘I’m telling you that I will do whatever it takes to save you!’

The words struck harder than any blow. Mizar’s breath caught in his throat.

This wasn’t strategy or logic. This wasn’t duty. This was Kite–laid bare, vulnerable, and choosing him. Not for a mission. Not because the world needed saving. But because he mattered. Because what they had–what could have been–still meant something.

And for the first time since drawing Dragon King’s Demise…Mizar hesitated. He could almost see it–Kite beside him, no battlefield between them, just sky and space stretching out endlessly ahead.

‘What you always fail to understand,’ Kite pressed on. ‘Is that there’s always hope, Mizar.’

‘Hope…?’

‘Yes. And I’ll show you–so are you giving up, Mizar?!’

A moment of silence passed. Mizar’s eyes drifted shut, breath steadying. And when they opened again, there was something new behind them–resolve. A flicker of life in the darkness.

‘No.’

And then–he felt it.

A surge. A tether. Something alive, burning across space like a lifeline pulled taut. Not just power. Not just will.

Kite’s own energy–his presence reaching out for him. For Mizar…

Mizar’s eyes widened, the card in his hand trembling. This feeling… Was this–?

Realization dawned like a rising star.

He was here.

Mizar’s despair was being replaced by shock. Then resolve. His hand holding the Spell Card lowering as a new strength began to grow from within.

Ray’s breath hitched. Blinking as his eyes locked onto Mizar with stunned disbelief. That hesitation–was he…changing his mind?

And then, Mizar spoke. Louder now. Clearer.

“I will build the Overlay Network…”

His voice gained volume with every syllable–

“With Kite!”

The field pulsed.

A ripple of energy spreading through the field–as two souls, separated by space but bound by fate, synchronized. Mizar’s form shimmered, morphing into pure energy: golden and laced with white crystal, his signature blue eyes blazing brighter than ever. Wings flickered like living flame.

Don Thousand’s eyes narrowed, then widened–startled. The Barian Deity had never expected a Barian to awaken to ZEXAL. And he looked…shaken. This power... It shouldn't exist. Not between them.

Ray looked startled as well–despite the fact that he and Yuma had awakened to their own form of ZEXAL. But the energy surging through the field now was unmistakably that of ZEXAL. Somehow–impossibly, Mizar and Kite had reached across space to achieve it.

And while the shock still lingered, it couldn’t have come at a better time. Yet, whatever form their ZEXAL took, Ray could only hope it would be enough to ensure everyone made it home. And judging by the shaken look on Don Thousand’s face–that just might be so.

Ray let out a breath, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth as he shifted his stance. One hand found its way to his hip, as he leaned forward. “Looks like this really is gonna be the end for you–big guy.” Ray commented, smugly towards Don Thousand.

Don Thousand didn’t speak. His gaze remained fixed–watching and calculating–as a beam of red energy lanced toward the Duel field, drawing closer to the rising swell of golden power. Mizar didn’t hesitate. He surged upward, rising to meet Kite as their energies spiraled together, beginning to merge.

“When two once-opposing Galaxy forces align–Photons and Time converge…”

“Revealing the power of ZEXAL!”

“Ours is a rivalry that transcends time and lights the way.”

“ZEXAL Morph: G!”

The pillar of golden light crashed down like a falling star, tearing through the sky with brilliance. Ray shielded his eyes as a wave of radiant energy swept outward–warm, electric, and overwhelming. Even Don Thousand flinched, his gaze narrowing at the unexpected display.

And from within the golden flare…a silhouette began to emerge.

Chapter Text

The light slowly peeled back, revealing a figure suspended in the air–wings unfurling behind them like blades of starlight. Two pairs. One forged of golden flame, semi-curved and edged in crystalline pink. The other, sleek and angular, black streaked with red and crackling faintly with photon energy. Together, they flared outward in an X-shape–like a galactic compass pointing toward fate.

The form hovered for a breathless moment before beginning its descent, energy spiraling around them in long, luminous ribbons.

Their face came into view first.

One eye shimmered cold and blue–Mizar’s. The other, a piercing grey-blue, intense and sharp–Kite’s. A quiet fire burned behind both. Mizar’s signature red facial markings–sharp lines across the cheeks and brows–remained, but now shimmered faintly gold, a testament to their evolved form.

Long blond hair fanned out behind them, maintaining its signature wing-shaped flare, now streaked with deep green along the bangs–Kite’s unmistakable touch. A single gold earring dangled from the left ear, attached to a smaller crystalline wing etched with a soft pink glow.

Their body was wrapped in a sleek black bodysuit, woven with flowing lines of red and gold. Armor plated the chest and shoulders in luminous gold, inset with glowing pink gems–relics of Tachyon’s legacy–while the forearms and shins bore sharp accents of red and black, crackling faintly with Photon energy. And at the center of their chest, a rotating spiral core glowed: a golden helix orbiting a single radiant pink gem, pulsing in time with each breath.

The air around them trembled–heavy with potential, with light, and with time itself.

Ray’s breath caught in his throat. “That’s amazing…” He whispered, awe bleeding into every word.

Don Thousand’s gaze flickered–something sharp, fleeting, and unmistakably rare crossing his face: unease.

The fusion’s feet touched the ground, and the battlefield rippled outward with the impact–like a newborn star shaking space itself. Their eyes locking onto the Barian Deity, both gleaming with perfect clarity.

“Ready, Kite.”

“I thought you’d never ask, Mizar.”

“It’s time–” The unified voice declared–dual-toned and resolute. “The power of ZEXAL reveals the true form of Dragon King’s Demise!”

The Spell Card shimmered in their hand, its surface distorting before snapping into a new, radiant form. Its golden-bordered frame pulsing as its name emerged: Dragon King's Hope.

Without hesitation, the ZEXAL fusion raised the card high, its energy answering their will. “By tributing all of our dragons, Dragon King’s Hope allows us to regain Life Points equal to their combined attack!”

The battlefield flared as Galaxy Stealth Dragon and Nebula Dragon were consumed in streaks of light–swirling upward into the spiral gem at their chest. A bright light following as their Life Points surged from a threadbare 700 to 4700 in a single blinding instant.

“And next–” Their hand moved fast across their deck, golden energy spiraling with the motion. “–It also allows us to draw one card for each tributed Dragon, and either set or activate them. Go–Chaos Draw!”

The deck flared, and the two cards drawn glowed like celestial bodies between their fingers. Confidence settling in their stance like gravity. “We place one monster face-down in Defense Mode…and set a card.”

The cards materialized with a sharp gleam. Then, silence. Eyes narrowing in unison, the fusion focused unwaveringly on Don Thousand. “That ends our turn.”

Don Thousand met their gaze–caught off guard, if only for a fraction. Their decision to push onward kept the duel alive–avoiding mutual destruction, and yet, in Don Thousand’s mind, it gave him the chance to seize his grip on victory. And he placed his hand on Yuma’s deck, preparing to take his turn. “You should have taken that chance to end this, Mizar. Now, your demise is certain–”

But his words halted abruptly as a sharp streak of pink energy tore through the void. Don Thousand’s eyes snapping toward the light as it slammed into the platform, revealing two figures bathed in its glow–Dumon and Nasch. Dumon gripped Nasch’s hand tightly, steadying his partner whose Barian powers had yet to be recovered. “We’ve arrived–just in time,” Dumon said quietly, his voice steady but urgent.

Shark lurched forward, jaw dropping as his eyes shifted from Ray to the glowing ZEXAL Morph. “W-Wait…is that–?”

Dumon nodded, surveying the transformed state. “It appears so… To think ZEXAL awakened in someone other than Yuma. This…is extraordinary.”

While Shark might have agreed with Dumon’s sentiments–given it was impressive for Mizar and Kite to have achieved this power—it wasn’t enough to command his full attention. His gaze snapping almost instantly back to Ray, confusion and frustration boiling over. “What were you thinking, going off alone?! This fight with Don Thousand isn’t just your battle—it’s all of ours!”

Ray’s expression shifted–regret flickering just briefly before his gaze hardened. He looked from Shark to Don Thousand, then to Dumon, and finally over to the ZEXAL Morph. Something in his eyes gleaming…sharp, knowing. Like he’d just recognized or realized something extremely important. His hand flexed briefly at his side before rising to rest over his heart. His gaze shifting one final time–from ZEXAL Morph: G…to Don Thousand. Ray’s purple eyes slowly closing–and while it lasted only a moment, to him, it felt like an eternity before they opened once more.

Then, without warning, he turned back to Shark. “Please, Nasch. You're out of your league if you think you can contend with Don Thousand.”

The words cut sharper than expected, laced with something cold. A low chuckle following–offbeat, unsettling–as his purple eyes fixed on Nasch.

“And you think you could do better?” Nasch snapped. “You’re not even dueling. Or were you too scared–so Mizar had to fight your battles for you?”

The crack in their camaraderie stunned everyone. Even the ZEXAL Morph turned, surprise flickering in both Mizar and Kite’s respective eyes.

Dumon stepped forward, trying to intercept. “Enough! This isn’t the time to be fighting each other. What’s gotten into you two?”

Ray tilted his head mockingly, a crooked smile forming. “Oh, poor Dumon…” He sighed, flicking a hand lazily through the air. “So loyal. So clueless. This is how it was always meant to be.”

“He’s right,” Nasch said, voice low but steady–catching Dumon utterly off guard.

There was something in Ray’s tone–something too focused, too deliberate and Nasch was honing in on it. “I get it now. You didn’t want to duel because you’re itching for a rematch with me.”

Ray chuckled darkly. “Was it that obvious? We’ve got unfinished business, Nasch. And this time, I plan to win.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Stop it!” Dumon snapped, stepping between them.

It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t five years ago–and even if trust and friendship with Vector had only begun to grow after the appearance of the first Barian Shadow, hadn’t they all agreed to stand together now?

And besides, Dumon couldn’t just forget how Vector had seemed genuinely happy. Especially with Yuma–and the relationship the two of them had fought so hard for...

So why did everything he was saying now feel so cold? So calculated?

Dumon’s eyes locked on Vector, searching–desperate for an explanation. “Why are you acting like this? What about Yuma?”

The question hung in the air.

Vector blinked–slowly. Then smiled. “What about him?” He said with a shrug, like Yuma was a discarded memory.

The impact hit like a shot through the chest. The fusion stiffened–Kite and Mizar’s shared shock filtering through.

Vector caught it–and laughed, loud and wild. One arm wrapping around himself as he pointed at them. “You really thought I was your friend? That I cared?” He mocked. “You’re all so laughably naive. That even I’m embarrassed for you.”

“…No,” Dumon whispered in disbelief.

“He’s been a snake this whole time,” Nasch growled. “Waiting for the perfect moment–hoping his Barian powers would return.”

Vector's eyes gleamed with sheer delight at Nasch’s growing rage, as the leader of the Barian Emperors began to piece it all together. And with that gleam, Dumon found himself losing hope, his gaze falling to the rocky ground beneath him.

“I suppose, I had hoped I was wrong…” Dumon muttered, voice heavy. “That maybe Vector had changed.”

“Well, he didn’t.” Nasch cut him off sharply. “And the only thing to do with a mad dog is put it down.”

Vector made a dramatic gasp. “Ooooh, how scary!” He threw his arms out wide in mock terror. “What will I ever do? Oh–I know. Beat you.”

He turned on a dime, stepping beside Don Thousand with casual ease. “So, big guy,” Vector smirked. “How about a little team-up? I’ve got a score to settle.”

Don Thousand's cold gaze narrowed. “And why should I trust you?”

“Because you’re backed into a corner,” Vector said smoothly. “The power of ZEXAL is poised to strike, Nasch is back, and you? You’re running out of options. But me? I’ve awakened a power in Yuma that could rival theirs. You want your own ZEXAL? I’m offering it.”

Vector crossed his arms, casually leaning back in place, waiting for Don Thousand’s response. But it wasn’t the deity who spoke first. ZEXAL Morph: G had gone still–no, tense. The flare of their wings dimming ever so slightly, as a tremor of emotion rippled beneath the fusion's composed exterior.

This wasn’t just a betrayal to Dumon. It hit Mizar just as hard. Harder than even he expected.

Out of everyone–aside from Yuma, of course–Mizar had been the one to step forward for Vector. To go beyond his own comfort zone. He’d been there during the aftermath at the Carnival, at Yuma’s house–serving as a support pillar when Vector seemed to break after losing Yuma. He’d put his life on the line, chasing after Vector when he’d foolishly charged off alone to confront Don Thousand. He had been there to protect him, to Duel in his place when Don Thousand had been poised to simply take Vector’s power without any care for the fight.

And then, throughout this battle, how could Mizar forget how Vector had returned that support? How he had acted as a rock for Mizar when things got rough? How he saved his life after he’d lost Neo Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon, or when he had tried to talk Mizar out of sacrificing himself by using Dragon King’s Demise–before he and Kite had awakened to ZEXAL Morph: G.

But now…

All of that. Every moment. Every step. Every word of comfort and support.

Was it an act? Had Vector been playing the victim, setting up this very moment for a calculated betrayal? Did Mizar’s own arrival, the timing of his intervention, ruin what was meant to happen here? Had everything been a setup?

Questions flooded his mind, each one more painful than the last. The fusion’s body, once tense with resolve, now trembled as one hand clenched into a fist so tightly it drew blood.

Had he been made a fool of? For trusting? For caring?

Within their fused state, Kite felt it all–every flicker of doubt, every pulse of hurt and confusion that passed through their bond. It echoed within him, and it made him worry. “Mizar…”

Mizar’s gaze hardened through his blue eye–ZEXAL Morph: G’s chest tightening with bitter, broken disbelief. The pain of being duped, of everything he had believed in being shattered–it swirled into something darker. Something more dangerous.

His controlled hand clenching tighter, the jagged edges of pain finally giving way to fury as his voice cracked with venom. “You’ll pay for your treachery, Vector!”

Vector grinned wide, his expression full of cruel delight. “Tsk, tsk, still not over it?” He tapped his temple mockingly. “Should’ve known better. I was never your ally.”

Mizar seemed to snap, the fusion moving forward in a blur of fury. But before he could take another step, Kite moved swiftly, taking control of the fusion’s opposing arm. With a calm, comforting hand, he placed it gently over the clenched fist, a silent anchor for Mizar’s storm.

“...Mizar… it’s okay,” Kite whispered, his voice low but firm. “We’ll make him pay. Together.”

The words didn’t seem to ease the fire within Mizar, but they grounded him. Kite’s presence was a lifeline, and Mizar could feel that his revenge was just waiting to be claimed. As Kite wasn’t about to let Vector’s cruelty stand, not against Yuma, and most certainly not against Mizar. This was personal.

As they locked eyes, the weight of Vector’s betrayal hit Mizar again, but Kite was here. And together, they would put things right.

Don Thousand only watched the unfolding drama with an amused detachment, his silence betraying nothing. He observed as Vector’s little allies reacted–his thoughts playing out beneath the surface.

He knew Vector well. And this? This was just the usual. Vector’s treachery was nothing new. He had always been loyal to one thing and one thing only–himself. But the beauty of this moment? Don Thousand could use it. He could twist it, turn it into an advantage. And while he saw through Vector’s little scheme, the idea of further manipulation amused him.

After a moment, Don Thousand’s cold voice broke the silence, his words dripping with amusement and cruelty. “If you desire an alliance, then prove it,” the Barian Deity said, the air thick with his command. “Strip away the mask. Show Yuma the truth of who you are.”

With Don Thousand’s final words, his essence slipped away from Yuma, peeling off like a shadow at dusk. The Barian Deity receding into the background, forming into a vague, humanoid mass of energy–still watching and ever calculative.

Yuma’s body slumped forward, his hands catching the ground. And for a moment, everything fell silent.

Then, his red eyes snapped open.

Confusion hit first, quickly followed by a wave of dread. Yuma’s breath coming in shallow, frantic bursts as he pushed himself upright, looking down at his trembling hands–like he wasn’t sure they were really his. His mind racing–flashes of the final moments, the Carnival, Nasch’s Shadow, Don Thousand…and Ray. Panic surged, and his voice cracked as he cried out, “Ray?!”

His cry shattering the tense silence. The fusion of Mizar and Kite turned away, visibly pained–anger still shimmering through, knowing how hard this was about to become for Yuma. Uncertainty filled Dumon as his head dropped; a hand moving to grip his wrist while he contemplated how best to explain the situation. But Shark’s voice rang out–sharp, commanding. “Yuma, get over here now! Forget about Vector!”

Yuma’s eyes snapped to Shark–wide with confusion, then transitioned into strong defiance as he swung his hand through the air. “Forget about Ray? What are you talking about?! I’m not going to do that!”

“Yuma,” Kite’s voice echoed from the fusion, steady but tight. “Do as Shark says!”

Dumon stepped forward next, urgency in his every move. “Yuma, it’s not safe!”

A low laugh slid through the air, dripping with amusement. “Aw…what’s wrong?” Vector’s voice lilting, saccharine and smug. “He wants to see me. Are you all just jealous?”

That voice–that tone–made the fusion’s expression tighten, while the other two Barian Emperors tensed as well.

But Yuma’s world narrowed to just one person. His eyes softening with quiet relief, that boundless trust flickering in their depths as he stepped toward Ray, untouched by the tension that gripped the room. “Ray…”

His hands shook as they reached up, trembling slightly, cupping Ray’s face with a tenderness born of desperation. Ray was really here–alive. And the fact that Ray was breathing, standing before him, pushed back the storm of fear and doubt swirling in Yuma’s mind. As he accepted the fact that Don Thousand had kept his promise.

Tears pooled unbidden, shimmering and then spilling down Yuma’s cheeks as his voice wavered. “You’re okay,” he whispered, barely more than a breath, clinging to that fragile truth.

“Yuma–don’t!” Shark’s sharp, urgent voice cut through the silence, but Yuma barely heard, or perhaps his heart refused to listen.

He closed the distance between them, arms wrapping tightly around Ray’s neck, one hand threading gently through Ray’s hair as he held him close. Every inch of Yuma’s being reached for this undeniable proof–that this moment was real, desiring nothing more than to anchor himself within it. Leaning in, he pressed a soft, trembling kiss to Ray’s lips, desperate to seal the truth that he was not alone. That Ray was here with him.

And for a heartbeat, there was only stillness.

Then–

Nothing.

No warmth. No pulse of that familiar energy that always made Yuma feel safe. No response.

Only an aching emptiness.

Slowly, Yuma pulled back, eyes wide and searching, confusion blooming like a cold knot inside him. His hand rose again, trembling as it brushed Ray’s cheek softly. “…Ray?” His voice was small, tentative and as fragile as a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Yuma,” Vector said, his grin dark and unnerving. The smile was smooth–almost rehearsed–but beneath it simmered a cold malice that froze Yuma’s blood. He staggered back, chest tightening, heart pounding in disbelief.

Yuma’s eyes locked onto Ray’s face, searching desperately for any flicker of the man he loved. The warmth. The light. That unmistakable spark of the person who served as his anchor–and his everything in this world.

But there was nothing.

Just a shadow of the man he loved.

Voices echoed around him–friends calling out, sharp with alarm–but Yuma barely heard them. His mind reeled, chaos crashing inside him like waves against a fragile shore.

He had made a deal. He’d given himself over to Don Thousand–willingly, because he believed the deity would keep his word. Because he believed Ray would be saved.

And while Ray was back…this wasn’t him.

Not anymore.

Was this some kind of twisted mockery? A sick joke? Was this what Don Thousand meant by ‘saving’ him?

A nightmare in the shape of a miracle?

“Come out, Don Thousand!” Yuma’s voice cracked, raw and fierce with pain. “Release Ray–now! You promised to save him!”

From the darkness behind Vector, a shadow stirred–slow and deliberate–coalescing into Don Thousand’s looming form. A low, cold chuckle rippling through the air in amusement. “This is not my doing, Tsukumo, Yuma,” the deity said, his voice like venom wrapped in silk. “Young Vector has chosen this…of his own accord.”

Yuma’s expression twisted in anguished fury. “You’re lying! This can’t be his choice! You’ve been messing with his head again! Twisting him! Controlling him!”

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with rage and desperation. “I won’t let you turn him into this!”

Vector chuckled–light, amused and far too calm. “Oh, Yuma…as much as I love seeing you defend me,” he said with a cruel smile. “Don Thousand has nothing to do with this. The real mastermind is me. I’ve been using you this whole time!” His voice dripped with dark delight, savoring the pain he was causing.

The words didn’t just hit–they pierced straight through Yuma’s heart, shattering the fragile hope he’d clung to.

Yuma’s breath hitched, eyes wide with disbelief. “Ray…you can’t mean that…”

Vector’s smile deepened, almost predatory. “Oh, but I do. Fooling you for a second time has been my ultimate triumph. Five long years…it really wears on a person, but my superior acting skills have kept the illusion alive. I should have won an award for this performance by now–”

“Stop!” Yuma’s voice cracked, fierce with pain and denial. “You’re lying! This isn’t you!”

Before Vector could mock him further, Shark stepped forward, voice hard and steady. “He’s not lying, Yuma. This…this is who Vector truly is.”

“This isn’t who he is at all!” Yuma shouted, voice breaking. “Ray…loves me…”

His eyes were brimming with fresh tears. This had to be a nightmare–any moment now, he’d wake up. He’d be back in his room. In bed. With Ray. And Ray would pull him close, whisper soft assurances, brush the tears from his face, and promise it had all just been a bad dream.

That none of this had ever happened.

Yuma’s whole body trembled, vision swimming as he stared into the face he thought he knew. “Say it…please…!” He whispered, voice breaking. “Tell them this is just…some kind of sick joke.”

He stepped forward without hesitation, grabbing Ray’s hand with trembling fingers–desperate to pull something, anything, from him. Some sign that this was all an act. That the man he loved was still in there.

Ray didn’t pull away.

But he didn’t return the gesture either.

His expression was unreadable–shadows casting hard across his features, his eyes hidden in the gloom of silence. Around them, no one moved. No one spoke. The others just watched with tight expressions of pity and worry.

‘This isn’t real,’ Yuma told himself. ‘It can’t be real…’

His knees gave out beneath him, hitting the ground with a soft thud. His grip tightening around Ray’s hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. Red eyes looking up, pleading. “Ray…please don’t do this… I love you.”

The silence that followed was sharp. Heavy. Every breath felt like it took effort.

Ray’s lips parted.

His voice was soft. Barely a whisper.

“…Yuma, I d–”

“Enough!” Shark’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, sharp and angry. “Vector isn’t worth this!”

Yuma’s head lowered, shadows veiling his eyes as more tears fell. His form trembling uncontrollably. “…Maybe so,” he whispered, voice shaking. “But I won’t give up on him.”

A stillness followed–only the faint sound of his breath, broken but steady.

Then, Yuma rose.

He wiped the tears from his face with trembling hands, lifting his gaze to meet Ray’s. Behind the heartbreak, behind the pain, was a fire that hadn’t gone out.

“I know this isn’t you. Whatever reason you have for acting like this… I’ll find it. I’ll see it with my own eyes. Through the power of ZEXAL.”

Vector’s lips curled into a wicked grin, eyes lighting up with something wild–eager. “Oh, Yuma… I thought you’d never ask.”

“Yuma–no!”

Shark’s voice rang out, laced with panic. Dumon stepped forward, arm outstretched, but it was too late.

Darkness was already spiraling around them–coiling like smoke, thick and heavy. In that final moment before it swallowed them, Yuma cast one last look toward his friends. A solemn flicker passed through his red eyes–not regret, but resolve.

Then, he turned back to Ray. And without hesitation, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around him. The darkness closing in–sealing them in a black sphere of shadow and light.

But Yuma didn’t flinch.

He’d faced Astral when he was corrupted. He’d fought through his own fears, his doubts, his mistakes. And he would fight through this too. This wasn’t the end. Not yet.

He was going to save Ray.

No matter what.

Even if it meant losing himself to do it.

Chapter Text

A suffocating silence blanketed the battlefield.

Where Yuma had once stood, surrounded by friends and foes alike, now only a sphere of darkness remained, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. Streaks of lightning cracked across its black surface, briefly illuminating the warped shadows within. The afterimage of Yuma vanishing into the void alongside Vector still lingered in the air like smoke.

Mizar and Kite–merged in their radiant ZEXAL form–stood motionless. Their wings remained flared wide in a majestic X-shape, casting long shadows across the cracked ground. But their stance had shifted. No longer radiant with confidence, they now exuded caution. And concern.

“Yuma…” Kite’s voice echoed softly from within the fusion–low, tight with horror.

“We should have stopped him,” Dumon said, his voice heavy with regret. His hand clenched at his side in quiet shame.

“He wouldn’t have let us,” Mizar replied, sorrow threading through his voice as he spoke next. “He chose this.”

“Even after what he saw…even after the betrayal…” Dumon murmured, trailing off.

“He still believes in Vector. Even now,” Nasch’s voice cut in–rough, bitter. “That stubborn idiot.”

Silence settled again. Dumon stepping back beside Nasch, his grey eyes flicking downward–taking in how tightly Nasch’s fists were clenched, knuckles bone-white. Without a word, he reached out, brushing a hand gently against Nasch’s arm in a quiet attempt at comfort.

But the stillness didn’t last.

The sphere pulsed–and then split. A burst of darkness erupting outward, flecked with jagged threads of violet energy. From its center, a silhouette began to emerge–slow and deliberate. The darkness that once coiled around the figure peeling away as they stepped forward–a vision both familiar and strangely altered.

Their hair, once fiery and vibrant, now bore the mark of duality with sharper contrast: pale, light grey bangs–the same shade as Vector’s Barian locks–while the long, flowing strands behind fell into deep black, echoing Yuma’s natural hair. The stark juxtaposition creating a visual tension, as if two wills wrestled within one form.

Where white gemstones had once sparkled like distant stars, soft pink gems now nestled among the locks, mirroring the subtle hues in Vector’s Barian design. These gems pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat of unfamiliar power threading through the fusion.

Their body was clad in the familiar black bodysuit, but it seemed different now. The red circuitry shimmered and pulsed with a more erratic rhythm–less controlled, less serene. Accented by pink gems at the joints and intersections, glowing dimly, a faint haze of shadow coiling at their edges, as if the light itself struggled to hold on.

Long boots touched the rocky surface with whisper-soft steps, graceful and deliberate. Fingerless gloves flexed with subtle tension, red lines glowing faintly brighter with each movement. Their nails–now glossy black–caught the dim light with silent sharpness.

Yet what stood out most were the eyes.

Eyes that told the clearest story: piercing, unyielding deep blue–the same vibrant hue as Vector’s pure energy form–radiating cold control and undeniable power. Gone was the duality; now there was only Vector’s presence, unmistakable and complete.

For a moment, the darker form of ZEXAL Morph: V stood silent–a fractured fusion of light and shadow. Not a shape born of harmony, but one forged through deliberate intent. Then the figure trembled, low laughter spilling out in rising waves. That deranged, satisfied expression Vector wore so well twisted across his face, earning sharp glares from the onlookers.

Vector tilted his head, eyes glowing pink for a brief moment as he looked down at himself, admiring the form like a performer taking the stage. “Well, well, well,” he mused, voice smooth with amusement. “This is certainly a twist. To be the one wielding ZEXAL when it goes off the rails... I’ve got to say, it’s a rush.”

“You’ll pay for what you did to Yuma,” Nasch snapped, his voice cutting clean through the tension. Fury crackling behind every word.

“Oh, Nasch~” Vector’s sing-song voice came, eyes narrowing. “So terrifying, shouting threats at me from the sidelines.”

His smirk deepened, as his eyes narrowed intently. “But that won’t do, will it? I was waiting for you to show. We’ve got a score to settle. So how about you stop pouting and join the Duel–unless…you’re scared.”

Nasch’s jaw clenched, fist curling until his knuckles turned white again. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to ask.”

Without hesitation, he activated his Duel Gazer and slammed his Duel Disk into place with a resonant click.

“Nasch, be careful–” Dumon began, stepping forward.

“It’s fine, Dumon!” Nasch said–sharper than intended. His frustration boiled over, but his focus remained absolute.

Vector tsked, wagging a finger. “Temper, temper... Snapping at poor Dumon like that? That’s not very loving.”

Nasch’s glare burned hotter. “Don’t talk to me about love, Vector–not after you discarded Yuma!” His nails bit into his palm, drawing blood as his rage finally broke free. “You really think this is all a joke!?”

“I do,” Vector replied coolly, lips curling in delight. “Like I said before…you’re hard to take seriously.”

Dumon’s expression darkened with concern as he glanced at his partner. Nasch’s entire body trembled with rage, eyes locked onto Vector–who remained composed, mocking, and utterly unfazed in his corrupted ZEXAL form. Was this really the reality they lived in? One where Vector and Nasch would always be enemies? One where everything they had worked for seemed to crumble away before his eyes?

His mind screamed in frustration, but Dumon swallowed it down. Vector couldn’t just have forsaken Yuma, could he? The bond they shared–it couldn’t have been fake, could it? Yuma had trusted Vector. They all had. Was that trust truly shattered, just like that?

Dumon clenched his hand into a fist, the weight of it all pressing on him. He couldn’t let his emotions show–not when Nasch was like this, not when Yuma was still needed their help. But the question burned in his chest. What had happened to the Vector they had come to know?

“I’m not here to entertain you,” Nasch growled, cutting through Dumon’s inner turmoil. “I came to Duel. And when we’re done–you’re finished. For good this time.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Vector replied, spreading his arms like a showman. “But since you’re late to the party, you’ll be sharing Life Points with Mizar and Kite.”

“Fine by me,” Nasch shot back. “I only need one Life Point to beat you!”

Vector chuckled low and delighted. “Confident, aren’t we? Let’s see how long that lasts...” His smile widened, voice dropping as his eyes glinted. “Given…it’s my turn.”

Beside Nasch, the fused form of ZEXAL Morph: G stood poised, still and calculated. Silent through the heated exchange, but they had been watching–every movement, every word–with razor focus. Within their psychic bond, Mizar’s voice broke the quiet first, low and measured.

‘Vector isn’t letting Nasch set his field…’

‘Yeah...it just means we’ll have to cover for him until his turn,’ Kite responded, narrowing his gaze as he assessed the corrupted form before them.

There was no fear–only strategy. And despite the chaos Vector had unleashed, the opposing ZEXAL fusion remained a steadfast vanguard behind Nasch. Whatever Vector had become–or maybe always was–they would face it together and end this madness.

But for now, all they could do was witness exactly what this madness could do as Vector’s hand moved to his deck. A delighted smirk crossing his lips.

“Now, let’s see what kind of trouble I can summon–Dark Draw!”

A dark energy coalesced around Vector’s hand as he smoothly drew a card. Sliding it into his hand, before removing a different card to play. “I activate the Spell Card, Contract with Don Thousand–Renewal!”

As the spell manifested on the field, a shadowy mist with glowing eyes rose, splitting into two ethereal forms that shot toward Nasch and ZEXAL Morph: G. Red electricity crackling fiercely as it enveloped them.

“You’ll find this card shockingly familiar, Nasch. It activates by consuming 2000 Life Points from each of you. This is the cost of entry for the Duel–as well as the cost to remain within it,” Vector explained with an amused chuckle as the trios combined 4700 Life Points plummeted to back 700. “But don’t worry–those Life Points won’t go to waste. I’ll be putting them to good use.”

Vector’s own 1000 Life Points flared, surging up to 5000. Nasch’s eyes narrowed, but his resolve stayed steel-strong. “I told you–I only need one Life Point to win. Take as many as you want–you’ll be the one who needs them,” Nasch declared.

“Maybe,” Vector replied slyly. “But need I remind you–you’re playing on a team this time, Nasch? I’m not sure Kite and Mizar are thrilled with your choice to join, especially since you just doubled the price!”

“What Mizar and I think is none of your concern,” Kite’s voice spoke through the form he and Mizar shared, firm and unwavering. “We stand with Nasch and our friends–as true allies, not traitors.”

“Aw…is that supposed to make me cry? To feel bad for how gullible you all were?” Vector taunted, a mocking smirk twisting his lips.

ZEXAL Morph: G tensed, ready to fire back–but a familiar voice, long silent, sliced through the tension. Calm. Cold. Razor-sharp.

“Vector–stop fooling around!”

Vector’s grin faltered as Don Thousand’s voice slithered through the air like a noose. “I remained silent earlier. Allowed you to ‘play’ with Yuma. Even let your moment of hesitation slide…” His tone dipped–measured and mocking, every word a blade.

The darkness was now stirring behind Vector. Writhing and coalescing. And the air grew heavy as Don Thousand emerged once more in full–his presence pressing down like gravity made flesh.

“But do not mistake my silence for approval,” the deity continued. “If you falter again…if I even suspect you are losing control of this Duel–or worse, entertaining betrayal–”

He stepped forward. A hand settling onto Vector’s shoulder.

The reaction was instant. The dark ZEXAL Morph flinched, recoiling as though struck, though no wound was visible. But pain flashed across Vector’s face–subtle, sharp, unmistakable. His breath hitched. His body twitched. The agony was silent. Internal. Absolute.

“–I will extinguish you,” Don Thousand said, voice smooth as silk and twice as cruel. “Without hesitation. Without mercy.”

Vector didn’t respond.

Couldn’t.

His grin had vanished. His posture locked, stiff. Shallow breaths scraped through clenched teeth. A faint tremble rippling through his fingers as his gaze darted anywhere but at the deity behind him.

Don Thousand’s eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction, before he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper–low and venomous.

“Remember: you traded your lifeforce for my power. Your life belongs to me by default. Its continued existence, or its snuffing out…is mine to decide.”

He withdrew his hand–slowly–leaving behind only silence, pain, and the crushing certainty of absolute control.

Vector’s eyes slowly redirected to stare ahead, hollow now. Fractured. And truly afraid.

Nasch’s own expression didn’t change, but for the briefest moment, his eyes flicked to where Don Thousand’s hand had rested on Vector’s shoulder–with a cold intensity that wasn’t hatred, but something more complex. He said nothing. But his silence pressed like a held breath.

Dumon’s brow furrowed. Still uncertain as he continued to feel as if something wasn’t aligning. If Vector had truly betrayed them…why? Why tolerate Don Thousand’s cruelty? Especially, when it seemed to cause him so much distress…? Dumon’s gaze shifted toward Nasch–but he found no answer there. Only more silence and more tension.

ZEXAL Morph: G stood tall, but Kite had subtly curled one hand into a fist. Mizar, meanwhile, stared forward out of his respective eye–still, but no longer unmoved. The sight was familiar: he had seen Don Thousand exert this same control over Vector before, just before Mizar had stepped in to Duel on Vector’s behalf. And for a fleeting moment…he almost wondered if Yuma had been right. If there was some reason Vector was acting off.

A low chuckle broke the silence–Don Thousand again. No louder than a whisper, but it slid like a knife through the air.

“Good. Let that fear stay close, Vector. Let it remind you who holds your leash.”

Don Thousand’s eyes flickered toward the others, gleaming with sinister delight and amusement. And with that, his presence began to recede–his darkness slipping back into shadow. But the chill he left behind clung to the battlefield like frost.

Vector didn’t respond immediately. He stood there–rigid and quiet. His mouth didn’t twitch. He just breathed–shallow and tight–while the weight of Don Thousand’s final words hung in the air like smoke. The echo of pain lingering just beneath the surface.

“…You think I don’t know that already…” Vector muttered, barely audible. The words were bitter. Quiet. Not a rebuttal, not really–but something that twisted between resentment and resignation. A quiet defiance that burned even in chains..

Then, slowly, deliberately, he straightened. Tilting his head and rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a chill.

The smirk coming back–not as sharp, not as real–but close enough.

“Anyways,” Vector said, louder now, with theatrical flare creeping back into his voice. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

“Let’s go over the rules of the contract again. Think of it as a refresher course for you Nasch, and a nasty little surprise for Mizar and Kite.”

“The contract states we have to reveal every card we draw. Spells mean no Normal Summons or Sets for the rest of the turn. And Monsters? Well, you can summon them right away.”

He offered a grin, as he leaned forward smugly.

“Hope that fine print isn’t too rough for you this time, Nasch.”

Yet, Vector didn’t give him a moment to respond despite catching Nasch’s annoyance, instead he pointed a finger, snapping the tension forward. “But seeing as you’ve got no monsters, let’s give you a shot. You’re up first, Nasch!”

Nasch’s hand moved to his deck without hesitation. “I draw!” He called, eyes locked solely on Vector.

The leader of the Seven Barian Emperors pulled a card free with ease before holding it up. “I drew Saber Shark–it’s a Monster, Vector.”

The last line carried a trace of smugness as Nasch slammed the card onto his Duel Disk. A sharp gleam of light flashing as Saber Shark erupted from the card, the blue shark with a grey blade extension taking to the field with 1600 attack points glinting on the holographic display.

“Big deal,” Vector scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance before his finger snapped to point towards the opposing ZEXAL form. “But let’s see what kind of luck you two have.”

Kite and Mizar’s hand moved to their deck. Two voices speaking in perfect unison as they pulled their own card. “Chaos Draw!”

Mismatched eyes narrowing for a moment before they revealed the card in a single smooth motion. “We drew the Spell Card: Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension.”

Vector burst into laughter–sharp, almost unhinged in response. “Even with the power of ZEXAL you both still drew a Spell Card!?”

But ZEXAL Morph: G, didn’t flinch. Kite’s voice coming through, level and cold. “You won’t be laughing for long, Vector. This card appeared for a reason. Even if we can’t use it yet…its time will come.”

“Whatever you say,” Vector muttered with a shrug, tone nonchalant but not quite relaxed either. “My turn–Dark Draw!”

He swept a hand toward his deck, pulling a card free in one smooth motion. “Well, lookie lookie~ My ZEXAL powers with Yuma, did come through with a Monster! And I’ll summon Umbral Horror Ghoul–right away!”

He flashed the card before slamming it down with flair. And from it emerged a hunched, purple monstrosity cloaked in a sickly green cape, its form standing beside Utopia Ray Victory. As its 1800 attack points shimmered into view on the Duel Interfaces holographic display.

“And I think you know what’s coming next–Umbral Horror Ghoul, attack Saber Shark!”

The creature lunged in an instance, striking down Nasch’s lone monster in a flare of light and sound. The impact registering–200 points of damage–as the trios shared Life Points dropped to 500.

“Tsk, tsk…” Vector sighed dramatically, shooting them a crooked smile. “Its really a shame. I thought this Duel might last longer. But I guess this is where it ends–Utopia Ray Victory, attack Nasch directly!”

Yuma’s once-familiar warrior surged forward, blades drawn, a brilliant arc of light blazing toward Nasch. And Dumon’s heart lurched. His breath caught, and for a split second, the Duel seemed to fall away. All he could see was Nasch–unguarded and exposed. The man he loved standing in the direct path of destruction, and Dumon could do nothing but watch.

The fear and dread he’d felt aboard the ship surged back, no longer a phantom, but a vivid, immediate threat. He’d known–feared–something like this would happen. It was why he’d entrusted his two Number cards to Nasch. Why he’d wanted to ensure Nasch could summon their signature monster if things went south. But that was back when he’d expected Nasch to have a chance to fight and defend himself, not to be set up helplessly to easily be wiped out.

‘Not like this,’ Dumon’s mind whispered. ‘Don’t let it end like this.’

His body tensed. A sting burning at the corners of his eyes as he stepped forward on instinct, arms moving around Nasch. To hold him close. To keep him safe. To fulfill his role as a protector.

Even if that was impossible given the circumstances.

But before despair could land its blow, two voices rang out in unison–sharp, clear, and unwavering.

“We activate our Trap–Destiny Break!”

The air cracked as the Trap Card shimmered into existence in front of ZEXAL Morph: G, halting Utopia Ray Victory’s charge mid-animation.

“When you declare a direct attack,” the fusion between Kite and Mizar explained, eyes locking onto Vector. “We can draw one card and reveal it. If it’s a Monster, the attack is negated. If not–it’s discarded.”

Vector sneered, folding his arms with mockery. “You think you’ll draw a Monster now, especially after that tragic Spell Card draw earlier?”

Both Kite and Mizar ignored Vector’s sneer, instead taking to action. “Chaos Draw!”

Their hand moved smoothly, mismatched eyes narrowing with focus as they drew–and then, a glint of satisfaction lit up their gaze. A smirk soon following.

“As expected. It’s the card I can always count on–Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon,” Kite declared, his voice emerging clearly through his shared state with Mizar, as he revealed the card. “Which means your attack is negated. And thanks to my card’s effect–”

“–I can Special Summon it,” Kite finished, their hand placing the card with deliberate force. “Get ready. Here comes a monster more savage than a supernova!”

The Duel Disk lit up in response as Kite’s Galaxy-Eyes registered. A crimson shuriken forming before the fusion, glowing with power. ZEXAL Morph: G didn’t hesitate–they reached out in a single motion and hurled it skyward in a blazing arc.

“With the cataclysmic force of ten black holes put together!” Kite continued. “A cosmic scourge that vaporizes anything in its path!”

The shuriken spun, faster and faster, until it detonated into a swirling vortex of light. Energy erupting–and from within the spiraling photon storm, a shape emerged.

A black dragon streaked with glowing blue energy burst forth, accented in red, letting out a roar as it settled on the field.

“Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon!”

Its cry echoed along the Duel Field. And for a heartbeat, even the tension faded.

“Magnificent as always, Kite…” Mizar’s voice murmured through their fused state, quiet awe beneath the words.

A small smirk tugged at their shared fused state’s lips. “Admit it, Mizar,” Kite teased. “You enjoyed that.”

“Maybe I will–IF we win this Duel.”

“Then you’d better be ready. Because our victory is assured.”

Vector let out a dry huff in response, interrupting their moment. His grin thinning at the edges as irritation flickered behind his eyes. And for a moment there was a pause before he swiftly slapped cards into place in his Duel Disk. “I set three cards and end my turn.”

“Then it’s our move–Chaos Draw!” Kite and Mizar announced, drawing their next card with a fluid, confident motion.

“Don’t forget the contract~” Vector called out gleefully, a wicked grin snapping back into place. “Let’s see it!”

“It’s a Spell Card,” ZEXAL Morph: G replied, holding the card up for all to see. “Photon Sublimation.”

“Another one?!” Vector burst into mocking laughter, clutching his side. “Your great ZEXAL fusion, and all you get is another Spell? That’s pathetic!”

“Hardly,” the fused state of Kite and Mizar replied coolly, voices steady and unshaken. “We don’t need the luck of the draw to beat you. Allow us to demonstrate why.”

They turned their attention to the field. “We flip our set monster–Photon Satellite!”

With a flash, the face-down card flipped up, revealing a small white-and-blue satellite hovering silently. Its 0 attack points blinking on the holographic display.

Vector laughed even harder, shaking his head as he clutched his sides. “0 Attack points?! What are you going to do with that?”

“If you’d be quiet,” Mizar and Kite shot back, eyes sharp. “We’ll show you.”

Their tone sharpened like a blade. “We activate Photon Satellite’s effect! By targeting a Photon monster we control, we can raise its level to match–and when used in an Xyz Summon, Photon Satellite counts as two monsters.”

Vector blinked, amusement flickering and then faltering. “Wait–what?”

ZEXAL Morph: G smirked, victory gleaming in their eyes. “Exactly. Try to keep up.”

With Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon and the two Photon Satellites now counting as three Level 8 monsters, the shared fused state between Mizar and Kite raised their arm. “We Overlay our three Level Eight monsters to build the Overlay Network!”

A swirling vortex appeared in response as the three monsters dissolved into spiraling energy, converging into the Overlay Network. “Prepare to witness the mightiest of monsters!” Kite declared, as a black lance materialized before ZEXAL Morph: G.

Without hesitation, they grasped the lance and hurled it into the vortex. A massive explosion of energy erupting. “We Xyz Summon–Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon!”

The colossal black and red dragon emerged, its wings unfurling as it let out a thunderous roar. Its red-tinged photon energy pulsing like a star on the verge of collapse.

Vector’s smirk faltered further.

But the fusion wasn’t finished. “Now that the stage is set, we activate Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension!” They declared, flashing the very Spell Card Vector had mocked earlier. “And even you should know what comes next–”

Vector’s eyes narrowed, unease creeping beneath his usual smug facade as he took a cautious step back.

“–For with this card, our victory is all but assured.”

At long last, Kite and Mizar’s reckoning had arrived. And a heavy hush fell over the field–the calm before the storm.

Chapter Text

The air trembled as Neo Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon roared, its wings flaring with primal brilliance. Light pulsing like a heartbeat in the darkness, casting jagged shadows across the field. And for a fleeting moment, it felt like the tide had turned–decisively and violently.

Kite and Mizar stood resolute within their ZEXAL fusion. Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension gleaming in their hand, a radiant promise. The path to victory, clear and absolute, as they stood opposed to Vector. Ready to end this–and him–once and for all.

But across the field, something inside Vector shifted.

A crawling, phantom pain surged beneath his skin. No wound caused it. No visible blow landed. But it throbbed all the same–hot, sharp, and ancient. A force waking up.

‘Play your Trap Card, you fool.’

The voice slithered across his thoughts like venom.

Vector stiffened, his form trembling in response to the pain. His arms wrapping around himself to bear it–one arm clutching tighter, involuntarily, as though an unseen hand had reached through the dark and settled against his chest. Steadying, familiar and fleeting.

Vector gritted his teeth. ‘I was getting to that.’

But the pressure didn’t relent.

From behind, darkness stirred–not fully emerged, not yet–but a shadow curled behind Vector’s legs like a living chain. Barely visible to the others, but thick with intent. It pulsed once–and Vector jolted, a quiet gasp slipping from between clenched teeth. He knew what it was. Don Thousand was testing him. Ensuring control.

‘One mistake–’ the Barian Deity whispered, voice brushing the inside of Vector’s mind. ‘–And your body won’t be yours to control.’

And then, the pressure ebbed. Not fully. But enough. Enough for Vector to suck in a full breath. He stood upright–shakily, sweat pale on his brow. His trembling hand reaching for his Duel Disk.

Then, without thinking, his other hand reached over, gripping his wrist–steadying it. Like another’s mind was at play by the action. Just for a moment. Just enough to help him refocus.

Vector exhaled sharply. The pain and fear didn’t leave–but something held him upright. And it was enough. He swallowed hard, lips twitching as the familiar grin crept back into place–welcoming the madness like an old friend.

“Actually…” Vector interrupted, his voice suddenly smug and laced with wicked glee. “It’s you two who don’t know what’s coming next~”

“W-What?!” Mizar and Kite’s fused voice faltered.

“I activate my Trap Card–Ultimate Betrayal!” Vector declared, eyes gleaming with delight. “Did you really think I’d overlook that shiny Rank-Up-Magic card of yours? Or forget how devastating your Galaxy-Eyes becomes when it ascends? Please.”

He motioned to the set card with a grin that promised chaos.

“This little card negates your Spell’s activation. And not only that–every card involved in the play–the Spell Card, the targeted Xyz Monster and all its materials–get sent straight to the Graveyard.”

The card’s effect detonated across the field like a trapdoor collapsing beneath their feet.

“Our…Galaxy-Eyes…” Mizar’s voice cracked through the fusion, stunned.

“That’s right, Mizar! It’s going bye-bye~!” Vector practically sang. “Oh–but that’s not all. For each card you lose this way, you also send five additional cards from the top of your deck to the Graveyard.”

From Nasch’s side, Dumon’s eyes widened in horror. “Six cards lost… That’s a total of thirty cards.”

“Correct again, Dumon~!” Vector beamed. “That’s more than half your deck gone in a flash. You’re going to burn out before you can even touch me.”

ZEXAL Morph: G stood in stunned silence as thirty cards poured into the Graveyard. Their field now empty and bare. Their strategy–shattered.

“He destroyed our deck…” Kite’s voice murmured, bitter and half in disbelief. “Just like he did to Yuma and Astral at Sargasso.”

But Mizar was beyond disbelief. Rage surging through him–overtaking the fusion.

“You’ve made a fool of us–with your insolent tricks!” He spat sharply.

Their fused form trembled with fury, one fist clenched at their side. Mizar’s respective eye twitching, his voice sharp with humiliation. “I’ve only ever been humiliated like this once before–”

“Aww, poor Mizar,” Vector taunted, voice syrupy with mock sympathy. “You just got schooled, fool~”

Off to the side, Dumon’s gaze darkened. “Just like with Trey and Quinton… This has been Vector’s plan all along. To rob Kite and Mizar not just of their dragons–but of Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon.”

“You’ll regret this, Vector,” Mizar growled, fury still burning. “Not just for your betrayal–but for robbing us our dragon. And when we strike back, your defeat will be nothing short of agonizing.”

Vector gave a lazy shrug, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

“Without your signature dragons, and with what–four, maybe five cards left in your deck?” He sneered. “I highly doubt you’ll be turning anything around. Now be a good sport and end your turn, so I can move on to destroying Nasch next~”

Mizar clenched their teeth, the fusion trembling under the weight of his rage. But before the fury could boil over, Kite’s voice echoed calmly through their shared link–steady and grounding.

‘It’s okay, Mizar… We’ll turn this around.’

Mizar didn’t respond. His fury still simmered, close to the surface. But the fusion held. Standing tall, even as Kite forced himself to speak past the sting of loss. “…We end our turn.”

“Then it’s my move–Chaos Draw!” Nasch declared, sweeping his hand to his deck and drawing a single card. “Per the contract, I reveal my Spell Card–Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One!”

Vector’s grin faltered. “Not this again…”

“Oh yes,” Nasch replied coolly, his Duel Disk set and ready. “This again.”

“But before we get to that–I'm setting one card, and activating another familiar Spell Card: Split Defender!” His eyes narrowed, lips twitching into a slight smirk. “You remember that one, don’t you?”

The field shimmered as one card slipped into position in his Spell/Trap Zone, while Split Defender activated.

“In case you’ve forgotten–since I don’t control a monster, I get to take control of the one on your field with the highest defense. And wouldn’t you know it? Utopia Ray Victory has the most defense.”

Nasch’s smugness settled in as he hit the point home harder. “Looks like Yuma’s monster wants to fight on the right side again.”

Vector’s confident smirk cracked–just for a breath. A flicker of panic crossing his face before he smothered it with a laugh, too loud, too pointed. “You really think I’m going to let you take Yuma away from me?!”

The derision was there–but underneath it: something else. Possessive. Protective. Unstable. The words landed like a glitch in his cruelty–drawing wary glances from across the field.

“To you… Utopia Ray Victory isn’t just a card, is it?” Dumon muttered, narrowing his eyes. “It’s about what it symbolizes…”

He looked to Nasch, lowering his voice. “Nasch… I think Vector still cares about Yuma–”

“I don’t care if he does or not!”

“But Nasch–what if Vector isn’t–”

“I said I don’t want to hear it, Dumon!” Nasch snapped, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the tension. “Yuma deserves better than him!”

“Ugh, do you two mind putting your little domestic dispute on hold?” Vector chimed in mockingly, his tone bright and venomous. “Some of us are trying to win here~!”

His tone turned gleeful as he activated one of his set cards. “And we were just getting to the good part–I activate my own familiar Trap, Guard Off!”

“All my monsters lose their defense points–and for each one I control, you take 400 points of damage!”

The holographic stats beside his monsters flickered–0 defence points now displayed for both.

“And that’s two monsters,” Vector continued, grin widening. “Which means 800 points of damage straight to you. And considering you, Kite, and Mizar only have 500 left…”

He let the silence hang, triumphant and cruel.

But the moment of Vector’s triumph was short-lived. “Think again,” Nasch countered sharply. “I activate my Trap Card–Life Regeneration! During my turn, if I would take damage from a card effect, I gain life points equal to that damage instead!”

A pulse of energy radiated from the Trap Card as Vector’s eyes narrowed, the life point counter ticking upward. The trio’s total climbing up to 1300.

Vector let out an annoyed scoff as Nasch pointed directly at him. “So, who are you giving up?” Nasch asked, the words cutting like ice–even though he already knew the answer.

A sigh slipped from Vector’s lips. “Umbral Horror Ghoul…” He muttered.

In a flash, the cloaked fiend vanished from Vector’s side and reappeared on Nasch’s field. “I’m not done,” Nasch continued, sliding another card into his Duel Disk. “I activate the Spell Card, Surface! This lets me target a WATER monster in my Graveyard and Special Summon it in Defense Position–I’m bringing back Saber Shark!”

The blue-skinned shark emerged again–this time in a defensive stance beside the ghoul. “But they won’t be staying long,” Nasch said, his voice rising with momentum. “I overlay my Level 4 Saber Shark and your Level 4 Umbral Horror Ghoul to build the Overlay Network!”

The two monsters dissolved into particles and were drawn into a swirling vortex of energy. “I Xyz Summon–Number 101: Silent Honor ARK!”

The elegant white vessel adorned in purple appeared on the field, engines glowing. “And now, I activate Rank-Up-Magic Barian’s Force!” Nasch continued, slamming another card into his Duel Disk.

Silent Honor ARK dissolved into pink particles as a new vortex emerged above it. “Chaos Xyz Evolution! Rise–Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK!”

A dark-armored humanoid with glowing red energy and blue and pink accents burst forth, spinning its lance with precision. “But why stop there?” Nasch pressed. “Next, I activate Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One! And I summon Number 102: Star Seraph Sentry to the field!”

Nasch took a brief glance at the card Dumon had entrusted to him aboard the ship–then set it down with purpose. A blinding flash erupted heralding the arrival of a golden armoured, winged archer–poised, graceful, and deadly. “And with The Seventh One, I rebuild the Overlay Network once more!”

Star Seraph Sentry transformed into radiant particles and was drawn into the swirling vortex. “Chaos Xyz Evolution! Emerge–Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph!”

An explosive shockwave roared across the field as the black-armored figure descended, its form crashing down with divine finality. Jagged, wing-like spikes flaring from its head, and pulsing red chaos energy that throbbed from its chest and along its arms like veins of molten power.

But still Nasch wasn’t finished. “I activate Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension!” He declared, raising his hand as the Chaos Numbers beside him surged with light. “I rebuild the Overlay Network one final time–using Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK and Chaos Number 102: Archfiend Seraph!”

The two Chaos Numbers dissolved into radiant particles–intertwining as they spiraled upward into a massive swirling gate of energy. Nasch’s voice rang clear across the field. “Descend from the heavens–Transcendence Seraphic Nihility!”

A rift tore open in the sky, spilling raw, divine energy. From within emerged a being of overwhelming presence–a celestial guardian born from the depths. Its armor shimmering with hues of deep navy and starlit silver, etched with intricate motifs of tides and constellations, all pulsing with slow, steady life.

From its back extended two luminous constructs: on the left, a halo of liquid light and flowing starlit water spun in graceful motion and on the right, a single radiant wing of pure energy folded gently, exuding calm and divine order.

In its right hand it gripped a trident-like scepter, a weapon of balance and judgment. From the left, a mirrored shield radiated outward, distorting the space around it like ripples across a still pond.

The holographic display flickering to life, displaying its stats in bold light: ATK 3000 / DEF 2500.

“It’s time–Transcendence Seraphic Nihility activates its special ability inherited from Chaos Number 101: Silent Honor DARK!” Nasch announced. “I can absorb your monster as a Transcendence Overlay Unit–Utopia Ray Victory is mine now!”

A flicker of something visceral passed across Vector’s face–a raw flash of rage that broke through the veneer of smug control. Nasch noticed it immediately and didn’t hesitate to twist the knife. “Unless you can stop me,” he challenged, watching Vector closely.

The Barian Emperor’s words struck their mark. Vector’s fist clenched so tightly that his fingers dug into his palm–until a thin line of blood slipped between them. The tension in his frame was undeniable. “I didn’t think so,” Nasch added coldly, extending his hand to execute the effect.

The pronged tip of Seraphic Nihility’s trident began to glow with transcendent light. A surge of energy burst forth, striking Utopia Ray Victory, which dissolved into shimmering particles and spiraled into the air–before being drawn to Seraphic Nihility as a new Overlay Unit.

Dark shadows spilled over Vector’s face. His expression becoming unreadable, caught between pain, fury, and something deeper. But Nasch pressed on. “Now–Transcendence Seraphic Nihility, attacks you directly!”

The divine Xyz entity surged forward, trident crackling with power as it struck the Dark ZEXAL Morph. The fusion was hurled backward, skidding across the rocky terrain as their life points dropped from 5000 to 2000

For a moment, everything went still.

Vector’s fused form trembled slightly, one hand planted to steady himself as he knelt, head bowed. The shadows still cloaking his eyes, making it difficult to tell whether he was angry...or hurting.

“What’s the matter, Vector?” Nasch called. “Can’t handle it?”

A long, unsettling silence followed. Then, quiet and steady, the traitorous Barian’s voice cut through the silence. “Hardly…”

Vector straightened, a crooked grin creeping across his face. “I should really be the one thanking you.”

That tone returned–gleeful, twisted, yet just unhinged enough to feel like a cover for something deeper. “You fell for it once before in our last Duel,” Vector continued, practically gleaming. “But I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to fall for it again! I activate my Trap Card–Transcendence Rising!”

The field pulsed with dark energy. “Since I took over 2000 points of damage from a Transcendence Monster, I can activate this card! It lets me Special Summon one Chaos Number directly from my Extra Deck and add Rank-Up-Magic Transcendence to my hand!”

With dramatic flair, Vector pulled a card from his Extra Deck and slammed it onto his Duel Disk. “Make way for Chaos Number 104: Umbral Horror Masquerade!”

A twisted figure emerged–its theatrical, red cape-like wings stretching wide as it grip its staff. Its 3000 attack and 1500 defence–flashing into place as Vector drew the Rank-Up-Magic Spell Card from his deck and added it to his hand. “Now would be an excellent time to end your turn, Nasch,” Vector said with mock politeness–sharp, and with just the faintest edge of something more vulnerable beneath.

This time, it was Nasch’s turn to look irritated as he placed his remaining card face-down. “I end my turn.”

“About time!” Vector huffed. “Now I can finally put this Rank-Up-Magic Card to good use when I Overlay Umbral Horror Masquerade and Utopia Ray Victory–”

He stopped. His eyes widening the moment he realized his mistake.

“What’s wrong, Vector?” Nasch asked coolly. “Forget already that Utopia Ray Victory is now one of Seraphic Nihility’s Transcendent Overlay Units?”

Shadows crept across Vector’s face as he held his silence.

“How does it feel, Vector?” Kite and Mizar’s fused voice added. “You took our Galaxy-Eyes from us and now we’ve taken your key piece too.”

Vector’s hand twitched. His body trembling slightly in the Dark ZEXAL Morph. “Im… Impossible… Th-this can’t be…”

The air shifted–cold and heavier than before, like reality holding its breath. Then a voice, low and cold, echoed across the field. “Is something the matter, Vector?”

Don Thousand.

His presence pressed in–suffocating and vile.

“N-No! It’s nothing I can’t handle!” Vector deflected, slicing the air with his hand, as if trying to push the dread away.

“That had better be the case,” the Barian Deity said flatly. “For your sake.”

A dark hand extended as his shadowy form grew beside Vector, its fingers closing into a tight fist.

The agony hit harder than before–like molten chains and piercing needles driving straight through his chest. Vector collapsed to his knees. A strangled cough escaping him, followed by a splash of crimson hitting the ground. One hand clutching at his chest as the other clawed uselessly at the floor.

“S-Stop it… I-I can do this…!” He choked out, his voice trembling with desperation, pain–and something closer to pure distress.

One final, agonizing surge threaded outward from his heart and Vector collapsed forward completely, his form trembling uncontrollably as he lay there, trying to pull himself together from the torment.

Don Thousand’s shadowy presence began to recede. But his voice came one last time, a whisper placed like a knife at Vector’s ear. ‘...Let us hope so…’

The silence that followed was suffocating but even then, Nasch remained silent and cold.

Kite and Mizar’s fused form said nothing either. But even they averted their eyes.

Only one couldn’t. Dumon stepped forward, his fist clenched tight at his side. “Vector…”

He looked as if he might move toward him–but Nasch grabbed his wrist sharply, pulling him back. “Forget him, Dumon. He brought this on himself.”

“But Nasch–”

“He’s not our friend anymore,” Nasch said, his voice like steel.

Pain flickered in Dumon’s eyes as he looked down, unable to hide the heaviness in his chest. “…Why does it have to be like this…?” He murmured. “I thought things were different…”

“…Poor Dumon…still a sucker until the end…”

Vector’s voice came weakly, barely more than a breath as he forced himself upright. Blood smearing across his hand as he wiped his mouth. A dark, broken laugh rising from his throat. “But Nasch is right… I’m not your friend. I could never be friends with the likes of any of you!”

His voice cracked into a shout–too loud, too desperate to be sane. “You’re all just so annoying! But it won’t be much longer now–because I’m going to crush every last one of you!”

A deranged laugh burst from Vector’s lips, the madness in his eyes barely masking the pain. “And then–with all of your Barian Powers and ZEXAL–I’ll be unstoppable! Hahaha!!”

He pointed toward them with one shaking finger, twisted grin stretching his face.

“So prepare yourselves–because this is the beginning of the end!”

Chapter Text

The silence that followed Vector’s outburst wasn’t peace. It was thick and electric–buzzing like static, a taut wire waiting to snap. The kind of silence that pressed against the skin and made the air feel heavier, laden with unspoken threats.

Vector swallowed hard, the bitter metallic tang of his own blood lingering in his mouth. His fingers trembling as they brushed against his deck, each pulse a reminder of the torment just endured–a fresh wound carved into his soul as much as his flesh.

He clenched his jaw, steadying himself against the sharp ache curling beneath his ribs. Don Thousand’s shadow still remained, a suffocating presence lurking just beyond the edge of his mind. But Vector refused to let it break him–not now.

Across the field, Nasch’s eyes flickered briefly–guarded, unreadable–before settling into a cold mask. He didn’t speak, but the weight behind his gaze was sharp and calculated.

Dumon’s eyes lingered on Vector’s trembling form, his brow furrowing. There was no anger in his stare–just the quiet tension of concern and doubt. Like someone trying to fit together a puzzle that refused to make sense. Like someone who didn’t want to believe what they were seeing.

His gaze shifted pleadingly toward Nasch as he reached out to take his hand. “Nasch, please…we need to reassess how we handle this–”

Nasch’s deep blue eyes flicked to Dumon–sharp and unmoved. “That’s not happening, Dumon.”

“But Nasch! How much more can Vector take?! And what about Yuma–”

“Yuma will understand in time,” Nasch cut in coldly, turning his eyes back to the Duel.

Dumon looked ready to protest again–but Kite’s voice broke in. “Shark’s right. And it’ll be our responsibility to help him through the fallout and support him.”

“Why won’t any of you see reason?” Dumon asked, frustration tightening his voice. He turned toward ZEXAL Morph: G, eyes narrowing desperately. “Mizar… surely, you’ll–”

“Dumon, we cannot afford to falter,” Mizar’s voice came, firm. “Did Vector falter when he ruthlessly took down both you and Marin?”

The words hit like a cold wind. Dumon’s gaze dropping. That had been the past…and he’d thought–hoped–that thanks to Yuma, Vector’s cruelty had stayed there. Dumon’s thoughts now threatened to spiral, but they were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Nasch’s.

“I know this is hard,” Nasch said quietly. “But I need you to trust me–this is the only way. Vector won’t show us mercy…so we can’t afford to show him weakness.”

“He’s right, Dumon~”

Vector’s voice sliced through the tension, strained but defiant. The pain Don Thousand had inflicted–both physical and psychological–still clinging to his edges. But he stood firm, even as he shook. “And it’s my turn!”

“Dark Draw!”

The card slipped from his deck, his hand unsteady. Silence reigning as he fixed his gaze on it–unmoving and unblinking.

“Didn’t get what you wanted, did you?” Nasch taunted.

Vector didn’t respond at first. Then slowly, a familiar grin stretched across his face–twisted and sharp. “Actually, Nasch…it’s exactly what I need.”

With practiced flair, he lifted the card for all to see. “This is the Spell Card–Only One Light.” A familiar chuckle followed, tinged with pain and triumph. “By choosing not to activate any monster effects I control for the rest of this round, I can select one Overlay Unit your monster possesses and Special Summon that monster to my field.”

He let the words settle like a trap. “Of course, I have to name the monster. And if I guess wrong… I pay all but 1 of my Life Points. But some risks are worth the reward.”

Vector shifted pointing directly at Nasch. “So I’ll be taking back MY Utopia Ray Victory.”

“Vector, stop! Think, you senseless fool!”

Don Thousand’s voice roared behind him–a seismic rumble that felt less like sound and more like reality cracking under divine pressure.

The Barian Deity’s form had fully manifested again, wreathed in a pulsating storm of dark, Barian energy–churning, oppressive, and alive. And from that swirling mass, tendrils of shadow slithered outward, thick and serpentine, oozing malice. They twisted through the air above Vector, coiling like constrictors, brushing close enough to make the skin crawl–waiting for permission to strike.

“I know what I’m doing,” Vector snapped, keeping his voice steady through sheer force of will. “Have a little faith, Don Thousand.”

“My faith in you is wearing thin.”

The tendrils curled tighter, one of them grazing Vector’s cheek–a mock caress that left behind a burning cold, like death licking at his nerves. Still, Vector forced a crooked smile, the flicker of fear behind his eyes buried beneath defiance.

“Utopia Ray Victory is the key–our key. Just trust me.”

Don Thousand didn’t speak at first. The air thickening.

Then–

“If this gamble fails,” the Barian Deity whispered, his tone frigid. “You will die.”

The tendrils snapped taut–not yet striking, but drawing closer, like a hangman’s noose.

“And when you fail…” Don Thousand hissed, the tendrils coiling tighter around Vector like a closing fist, “I will reclaim what is mine, piece by piece.”

His voice dropped to a sickly, intimate whisper. “You will not enjoy the mercy of a swift end…and I’ll be sure Yuma watches every moment of your demise.”

The shadows pulsed with cruel delight, feeding on the flicker of pain that crossed Vector’s eyes.

“...And I will enjoy watching the last light of Yuma’s hope to save you drain from his eyes.”

The darkness around them shuddered with malevolent anticipation, as if it, too, fed on the image.

The words sank like ice into Vector’s bones. His jaw tightened, just for a moment. And he didn’t speak. But the moment’s silence said everything. Don Thousand had struck exactly where it hurt most.

“He’s really going to gamble on a one-in-five odds to guess Utopia Ray Victory?” Dumon murmured, horror creeping into his voice. His eyes were wide, fixed not on the Duel, but on the dark tendrils still curling menacingly around Vector’s body. Dumon knowing full well what failure would cost.

“So he is…” Nasch said, tone unreadable. “Go ahead, Vector–guess. But I doubt anything tied to Yuma would want to return to you.”

A flicker of rage passed through Vector’s eyes–brief and bright–but it vanished the moment the pain returned. The shadow tendrils tightening around his limbs and chest, curling with deliberate cruelty, a final warning from Don Thousand.

Vector’s breath hitched. His body shaking under the weight of that crushing grip. Darkness spidering across his vision, but he forced his hand forward–shaking and trembling–as he reached out toward the Transcendent Xyz monster. ‘Yuma… please…’

His fingers hovered over the right Overlay Unit.

Then–stopped.

There was no sound. No light. But something shifted. A quiet certainty, like a second presence pressing gently against his will, guiding his hand…left.

Vector’s eyes flicked sideways, just for an instant. As if picturing someone else standing there. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“I pick the left–!”

A burst of radiant energy shattered the tension.

The chosen Overlay Unit shot from Transcendence Seraphic Nihility, snapping across the field to Vector’s side. Light flaring as the shape took form–the white armor-clad mech-warrior with four crimson arms, each gripping a blade. The gold-accented wings flared out, proud and radiant–and as the image solidified fully into Utopia Ray Victory, the tendrils around Vector recoiled.

The grip vanishing and the pressure dissolving.

Don Thousand’s presence receded like a dying storm, the tendrils slithering back into the Barian Deity’s form. The darkness thinning–but not before Don Thousand’s voice echoed once more, low and venomous.

“You bought yourself moments, not mercy.”

Vector dropped to one knee, panting, vision swimming. He had done it.

He was still alive.

But more importantly…he had won the gamble.

A shuddering breath escaped Vector–half relief, half disbelief. His fingers twitched, still haunted by the phantom burn of Don Thousand’s grip. He hadn’t known for sure that it would work. But he had hoped–and somehow, that had been enough.

His form trembled again, the aftershocks of fear and exhaustion creeping in–until one of his hands reached out to steady the opposing arm. Quiet, familiar and grounding.

Vector’s breath caught–then evened out.

Slowly finding the strength to force himself upright, swaying slightly. “Well…would you look at that,” he rasped, a crooked grin forming beneath the sweat and strain. “Guess you were wrong, Nasch.”

He raised his arm–barely steady, but defiant. “And now that Yuma’s Utopia Ray Victory is back on my field–let’s kick this up a notch!”

Even speaking hurt. And the laugh that followed was broken, almost breathless. Not truly mocking. But still enough.

As for now… He was safe.

Nasch’s eyes narrowed. “Enjoy your little reunion while you can. Because come my next turn, you won’t have any part of Yuma left to cling to.”

Vector just smirked, battered but cocky. “Oh please, Nasch–there’s not going to be a next turn.”

“I activate Rank-Up-Magic Transcendent Ascension!” Vector declared, slamming the familiar card into his Duel Disk. A flicker of residual pain twisting through him, but he didn’t falter.

“…Here it comes…” Kite muttered through his and Mizar’s ZEXAL Morph, his eye narrowing.

“I Overlay my Umbral Horror Masquerade with Yuma’s Utopia Ray Victory!” Vector shouted, forcing his arm upward despite the lingering tremors.

The two monsters dissolved into radiant particles, swirling upward into a storm of energy as the Overlay Network formed above–darkness and light clashing at its center. “I Transcendent Xyz Summon–Masked Transcendent Utopia!”

A burst of brilliant energy split the sky as their shared signature number–his and Yuma’s–took the field at last. The familiar figure that emerged a much welcomed sight. Humanoid in shape, clad in a sleek black bodysuit reminiscent of ZEXAL Morph: V, but layered with regal golden armor.

Its four arms extended wide–two gripping luminous blades, the other two holding the ornate staff once wielded by Umbral Horror Masquerade. A jagged crimson cape flaring behind it like burning wings, while golden horns curled upward from its head, forming a crown of wrath and royalty. Behind the half-mask, its crimson eyes glowed with fierce resolve.

“Lucky for you, I can’t activate any of Masked Transcendent Utopia’s effects this turn–since I activated the Spell Card, Only One Light,” Vector said with a casual shrug. “But that hardly matters, since Kite and Mizar’s field is wide open!”

He flashed a grin, eyes gleaming. “So this is the end. Wish I could say it’s been fun–but even fused together, you two were barely a warm-up–”

“Stop gloating, Vector, and end this Duel!” Don Thousand’s voice snapped like a whip, thick with raw impatience. His dark essence flaring behind Vector, tendrils twitching once more in silent hunger–ready to strike, a constant reminder of the fate awaiting Vector should he fail.

“Right, right! You heard the boss–no hard feelings, yeah?” Vector cackled, winking as he thrust his hand forward. “Masked Transcendent Utopia, attack Kite and Mizar directly! Rising Shadow Slash!”

The Transcendence Xyz surged forward, twin swords blazing as it hurtled toward ZEXAL Morph: G.

“I activate my Trap Card–Deep Current!” Nasch’s voice rang out, steady and resolute as he revealed his face-down card. “When you declare a direct attack, I can negate that attack and immediately end the Battle Phase!”

“Grr…! Nasch, stay out of this! I wasn’t even attacking you!” Vector snapped, stomping his foot in frustration.

“Well, too bad,” Nasch said evenly, arms crossed. “I actually care about the people I call friends.”

Vector’s eye twitched in annoyance–then a biting realization dawned. His blood turned ice-cold as his eyes widened sharply. Panic flickering even as he gripped the two Trap Cards he’d intended to set at the end of his turn. But this time, unlike before, he didn’t expect to get that far. He didn’t think Don Thousand would allow him to Set his cards, let alone end his turn. Vector had failed to end the Duel–he’d made his last mistake…

Fear glazed his eyes as he glanced back at the Barian Deity looming ominously behind him–the dark tendrils flexing as they stirred, a dark promise of finality. The brutal truth settling deeper, forcing Vector to shift his gaze away and brace himself, expecting the inevitable surge of crushing pain–or worse.

But the crushing grip didn’t come.

Instead, Don Thousand’s dark essence flickered–an ominous pulse, but no strike. The Barian Deity’s voice echoing, low and chilling. “Set your two cards. Our victory is guaranteed.”

Vector swallowed hard, relief and dread mingling in his chest. Forcing back that cocky smile despite it being strained. “I set two cards and end my turn.”

Nasch’s gaze narrowed–unreadable, but the weight behind it was heavier than before.

“Then it’s our turn!” ZEXAL Morph: G declared, their hand moving smoothly to their deck. “Chaos Draw!”

Their mismatched eyes scanned the drawn card before holding it aloft, honoring the terms of their contract. “We drew the Spell Card–Galaxy Rebirth.”

Vector sneered, flinging a hand through the air. “Ha! That’s all you two can manage to draw in your oh-so-mighty ZEXAL? I truly pity you–given how badly this Duel has gone for you two. Maybe your bond isn’t as strong as you pretend–”

“I’d be more concerned about what’s left of your own bond,” Kite snapped through the fusion. “Besides, an amateur like you wouldn’t understand how a card like this works. But we’ll be happy to fill you in–won’t we, Mizar?”

Mizar’s voice emerged from the fusion, distinct and resolute. “Galaxy Rebirth lets us target one Galaxy-Eyes monster in our Graveyard and Special Summon it to the field.”

“Oh no–”

“That’s right!” Kite declared, voice sharp with triumph. “Welcome to the field at long last–Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon!”

ZEXAL Morph: G removed their signature card from the Graveyard and placed it onto the field. A roar erupting as the silhouette of a colossal dragon took shape. Its wings flared wide–one radiant with pure photon energy, the other jagged and warped, carved from compressed stardust and bent time. Gold, crimson, and black scales shimmering along its body, and at its core pulsed a miniature galaxy–an engine of divinity, orbiting glyphs shifting with the flow of time. Its three eyes locking directly onto Masked Transcendent Utopia.

But as the holographic display flickered–it showed only 2500 attack points, far from its usual 5000.

“Hahahaha! You brought it back with half its power!?” Vector burst out laughing, practically doubled over.

“I suppose to you, the drawback of Galaxy Rebirth–halving our dragon’s attack points–would seem like a waste,” Kite and Mizar’s fused state replied coolly. “Especially given, if we don’t deal damage this turn, our dragon is destroyed.”

“Wait–!” Vector’s laughter hitched. “You summoned a monster you can’t even keep? Masked Transcendent Utopia has 4000 ATK!” He grinned with mad delight. “But please…by all means, proceed~”

A low scoff escaped ZEXAL Morph: G. “We intended to.”

“Next, we activate the Spell Card–Photon Sublimation!” They announced. “By banishing two Photon monsters from our Graveyard, we can draw two cards. We choose to banish Daybreaker and Galaxy Knight.”

“Go ahead, draw–if you can afford it,” Vector sneered. “You’re running on fumes anyway. That deck’s almost empty.”

Kite and Mizar ignored him, their hand hovering over the last few cards of their deck. “Chaos Draw!”

Vector leaned in curiously, the ZEXAL Morph not hesitating to present the cards drawn.

“We’ve drawn the Spell Card Photon Trade and the Quick-Play Spell Galaxy Refresh–and we’ll start off by activating Galaxy Refresh!” ZEXAL Morph: G announced, cutting off any chance for Vector to make a snide remark before the Spell Card was played.

“Galaxy Refresh allows us to banish one Galaxy-Eyes monster we control,” they explained. “Removing the effects of Galaxy Rebirth and granting it a considerable attack boost.”

“This sets the stage for us to resummon Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon,” Mizar’s voice followed, clear and resolute.

In an instant, the field shifted. Galaxy Rebirth was removed from play, and their shared signature dragon vanished–only to return in a flare of light. Vector instinctively took a step back as the holographic display flickered the dragon's attack returning to 5000.

“With our dragon’s return,” Kite added coldly. “Your monster is finished.”

“Now–Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon, attack Masked Transcendent Utopia! Transcendent Spiral Photon Stream!” ZEXAL Morph: G declared in unison.

The dragon surged forward, wings flaring wide as spiraling energy charged around it. A roar tore through the battlefield, drowning out all other sound. Light exploding as a luminous blast that tore across the field–

And as it surged forth toward Vector…time shattered.

He was no longer in the Duel.

He was somewhere else…caught in a moment. A memory.

With Yuma.

Chapter Text

“I know this isn’t you. Whatever reason you have for acting like this… I’ll find it. I’ll see it with my own eyes. Through the power of ZEXAL.”

Vector stood poised in silence, shadows still cloaking his eyes even as he felt Yuma’s unwavering gaze fixed on him–and the warmth of Yuma’s prior touch fading from his hand.

He couldn’t afford to hesitate. His once unreadable expression shifting in an instant, lips curling into a grin just a little too wide. His eye lighting up with something feral, chaotic…eager.

“Oh, Yuma… I thought you’d never ask,” Vector replied, voice low and gleaming with that familiar edge of madness as his gaze locked with Yuma’s.

“Yuma–no!”

Shark’s voice cut through the tension, raw with panic. As Vector caught the motion of Dumon stepping forward from the corner of his eye–but it was already too late.

The darkness was spiraling around them now, thick and coiling like smoke. Heavy. Inescapable. Even Yuma couldn’t turn back if he had doubts. But when Vector saw that final glance Yuma cast towards his friends before returning to him–filled not with regret, but with resolve–he understood.

Just like five years ago… Yuma was willing to take this plunge. Willing to risk everything if it meant saving him.

Back then, Vector had denied him that chance. Had chosen to fade away alone.

But this time was different.

This time…he needed Yuma.

He felt Yuma’s arms slide around him. Vector’s purple eyes shifting toward him as the darkness sealed them in, leaving a certain pesky deity locked out–for now. And Vector seized this moment. His arms wrapping tightly around Yuma’s form, pulling him close as he leaned forward–pressing their lips together.

He felt Yuma stiffen in shock, red eyes wide–as if he’d expected resistance, or thought he’d have to fight for Ray’s affection. But the hesitation melted. Relief pouring through instead, silent and overwhelming, as Yuma returned the gesture–eyes welling with fresh tears, the weight of almost losing Ray again too much to hold back.

The world around them bent and shimmered–unfolding not into chaos, but something still, weightless, and familiar. A shared space, suspended between them. A memory, a bond, their silent, unbroken promise rekindled through their power of ZEXAL.

The pair now stood atop the rooftop of the Tsukumo residence, bathed in starlight. The sky above stretching endless and clear–just like that night before their date, before the Shadow of Nasch had appeared, before Don Thousand had emerged.

Though it wasn’t a reset. Just the comforting echo of a simpler time.

A time both of them longed to return to–and hoped they still could. But Ray wasn’t entirely sure it would ever be possible. Everything hinged on this performance...and they would likely only get one clear shot at Don Thousand.

Still, Ray found comfort in the warmth now filtering between them–grounding them in the moment, in each other. Their connection as steady and strong as ever. Yuma slowly drew back, his forehead still resting against Ray’s, their lips barely parted. Ray feeling the tug of a smirk at the corner of Yuma’s mouth.

“Five years really dulled your ability to lie,” Yuma teased.

A faint blush crept across Ray’s cheeks, but the words he offered came quiet, sincere and tinged with worry. “I’m really sorry for putting you through that–”

Yuma didn’t let him finish. Their lips met again, softer this time, and Yuma’s grip around him tightened. One hand gently threaded into Ray’s hair, holding him close. A few quiet moments passed before Yuma finally breathed out a soft, shuddered response.

“...I knew you wouldn’t throw everything away. I just knew you loved me.”

Ray could see the unfiltered relief on Yuma’s face, and his own grip tightened instinctively–pulling Yuma as close as he could.

“...I love you, Yuma. Without a doubt.”

“I love you too, Ray,” Yuma said without hesitation, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

Ray knew Yuma probably wanted to linger in this moment–he did too–but they couldn’t afford to. Not for long. Not without risking Don Thousand growing suspicious or attempting to peer into their shared mind. He had to push forward, even as he silently hoped this wouldn’t be their final moment together…that they would survive this.

“Yuma–”

“...I know,” Yuma said quietly, a bittersweet smile tugging at his mouth. The same unspoken fear lingering behind his eyes–that this might be the last moment they’d ever have. But slowly, he pushed it back, replacing it with something brighter. A hopeful, determined smile. He was choosing to believe. “So, what’s the plan here? You wanted us alone, right–no Don Thousand to eavesdrop?”

Ray nodded, still holding on to Yuma like a lifeline, the glow of the city skyline shimmering around them. He allowed himself one more breath in Yuma’s presence–knowing he was going to need it for what would come next.

“The plan,” Ray began, voice steady but low. “Was to take both of us off the board. So Don Thousand can’t use us as leverage against the others. I know they can win…but only if the game’s not rigged.”

Yuma raised a brow, still smiling. “So you’re taking the hit so they can have a clear shot to win, huh?”

Ray nodded again. “He can’t know I didn’t betray you. Or the others. That’s the only edge we have.”

“Well,” Yuma said, nudging him lightly, “I’ll let you take the reins. But save some fun for me.”

“If this all works…you’ll get your moment,” Ray promised softly. “But for now, I can rest easy knowing Don Thousand doesn’t control you anymore.”

His arms tightened around Yuma protectively, emotion tightening in his chest. “I couldn’t bear seeing you like that… And I know this isn’t the best way–forcing doubt, making you think I’d turned–but it was the only way I could think of to get you away from him–”

He didn’t get to finish. Yuma leaned in once more, kissing him–soft, steady, sure. One hand rising to Ray’s cheek, gently brushing away his tears.

“Ray,” he whispered. “It’s okay… But now we have to finish this. Together.”

There was a brief pause, then Yuma’s voice came–low and pleading. “...Just be careful…” He said it like the words physically hurt, like speaking them aloud might make them true. “You said you wanted to take yourself off the board. That means…you’re worried Don Thousand might try to manipulate you again.”

Ray was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “...Our connection isn’t severed. I realized that when I tried facing him alone. But Yuma…no matter what happens, you can’t step in. Not yet.”

“You’re asking a lot, Ray. I don’t want to just stand by and watch you get hurt…”

“I know,” Ray replied softly, trying to calm him. “But Don Thousand isn’t stupid. I thought I’d outplayed him once–and…well, you know how that ended.”

He felt Yuma tense at that–the wound still fresh, despite five long years, because of what they stood to lose now. And Ray did his best to ease the conversation back on track, gently. “We will only get one shot at this. You’ve fought him before–you know how dangerous he is. So please… I need you to trust me.”

Yuma hesitated. His hands were shaking where they held onto Ray, fear thick behind his silence. But at last, he nodded–though his voice trembled as he spoke. “Fine. But if he tries pulling the same stunt again–”

“Fair enough,” Ray said, managing a faint smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that… I’d really like to come home with you.”

For a moment longer, fear flickered in Yuma’s red eyes, threatening to unravel him. But then Yuma took a deep breath–shakily–as he fought to steady himself. Ray watched the man he loved summon that familiar, stubborn strength. The part of Yuma that never gave up.

Their eyes meeting–and in them, Ray saw not just fear, but fierce determination.

Yuma’s grip tightening as he leaned in, voice low but steady. “...You will come back. Because with our bond–and the power of ZEXAL–we can’t lose!”

Ray’s expression softened, touched by the fire still burning in Yuma’s heart. “I really hope you’re right, Yuma–”

“I am right!” Yuma shot back, a spark of light returning to his voice. “So don’t even think about proving me wrong!”

***

The warmth of Yuma’s voice echoed for a breath longer…then it faded. The memory shattering like glass. Vector snapping back to the present–just as Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon’s attack came crashing down.

“I activate my Trap Card–Xyz Discharge!” He shouted.

The set card flipped face-up in a burst of light. Vector’s eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on ZEXAL Morph: G. “Kite, Mizar…if you discard one card from your hand, you can take control of Masked Transcendent Utopia.”

“What–?”

“Do it,” Nasch’s voice cut in, sudden and sharp from the sidelines.

Both the fused state of Mizar and Kite, as well as Dumon turned, stunned. Nasch wasn’t panicked–he was calm. Focused. As if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Nasch, have you lost your mind?!” Mizar’s voice surged. “Vector still has a face-down card–this could be a trap!”

“He’s not going to use it,” Nasch said, unwavering. “Not this time.”

Dumon spoke next, disbelief flaring. “But–Nasch, weren’t you the one who told us to give up on Vector? That we couldn’t trust him?”

The confusion hit hard. Dumon had tried to be the voice of reason before–to suggest there might be more going on–but Nasch had dismissed him without a second thought. And now, Nasch was calling for a risky move by placing full faith in Vector…only now convinced he wasn’t about to pull one last trick.

“I did,” Nasch confirmed, not denying his prior actions. “But Don Thousand would have never believed Vector’s bluff if I didn’t play my part–all you need to know is Vector never truly sold us out.”

Nasch’s gaze locked on Kite and Mizar’s fusion, serious and unflinching as he spoke.

“I’ve known this was coming since my talk with Vector on the Ship. Vector knew he was compromised–that Don Thousand’s influence had roots too deep. We saw it ourselves when Don Thousand caused him pain. Just like Don Thousand used Yuma against us… Vector didn’t want to be used, too. So he played the part of the villain–so we wouldn’t have to hold back. So we could fight with everything we had without the guilt of hurting a friend.”

His voice sharpened. “He’s been on our side this whole time. Now do it. Discard the card–and end this Duel.”

A moment of silence fell and then–

“As if I would give you that chance.” Don Thousand’s voice surged from behind Vector, like a crack of thunder, his presence crashing down like a storm.

“I warned you, Vector…and if you are unwilling to finish what you started–I will.”

Don Thousand’s aura flared–darkness swelling around him as the shadowlike tendrils burst back to life. They flickered and coiled, shifting violently–ready to strike–until another voice cut through the storm.

“You’re not finishing anything!”

The voice cracked across the battlefield like lightning.

Yuma.

Everyone froze–everyone except Nasch and Vector. A brilliant light surging from within the Dark ZEXAL, swallowing it whole. And when it faded, standing in its place was ZEXAL Morph: V–restored in its purest form. The red bangs and flowing orange accents shimmering with white gem-like energy, and in those eyes burned the harmony of two souls: one red, one purple. Yuma and Vector. Unified.

“YUMA!?”

“YOU. I will not allow this!” Don Thousand roared, fury twisting his voice into something inhuman.

His aura flared violently–shadow tendrils bursting outward like serpents, lashing for ZEXAL Morph: V with lethal speed and fury.

But the moment they neared, the light surrounding the fusion ignited–sharp and blinding. A flare of radiant energy surging out, colliding with the tendrils in midair.

Dissolving them on contact.

The darkness receding and withering under the assault, burned away as if by sunlight piercing fog. The force of the light not only stopping the attack but reversing it.

Divine tendrils of light shooting forward, curling through the air like celestial chains. Latching on without hesitation to Don Thousand, wrapping around him, binding him in luminous threads of power that tightened with every pulse.

“H-How…how are you doing this!?” The Barian Deity’s voice cracked, shock bleeding into fear.

“This is the power of our ZEXAL,” Yuma’s voice rang out from within the light, clear and unshakable. “Our bond–our will. And you’ll never take Ray from me again!”

“S-Stop this–!” Don Thousand thrashed, the shadows flaring in desperation–but the light held.

“Mizar! Kite!” Yuma’s voice rang out over Don Thousand’s shrieks, resolute and commanding. “Don’t hesitate! Finish this now! We’ll hold him off!”

There was only a heartbeat’s pause–just long enough for everything to click into place.

And ZEXAL Morph: G didn’t falter in response. “We discard Photon Trade–to seize control of Masked Transcendent Utopia!”

A brilliant flash split the Duel field as Yuma and Ray’s signature monster shifted sides. Now standing under the control of the ZEXAL Morph: G, Masked Transcendent Utopia rising, radiant and unshakable.

Kite and Mizar stared towards their Duel field, eyes flicking between their monsters: Neo Galaxy-Eyes Transcendence Dragon, the embodiment of their bond…and Masked Transcendent Utopia, the epitome of two souls who continued to risk everything to save each other.

And the choice was clear.

“This Duel doesn’t end with power alone,” Kite’s voice said firmly.

“It ends with a bond forged through hardship,” Mizar added.

They raised their hand.

“Masked Transcendent Utopia–attack them directly! Rising Shadow Slash!”

Without hesitation, Yuma and Ray’s signature monster launched forward, blades glowing with holy light. In a single, perfect arc, it slashed through the air–a radiant strike, unstoppable.

Light exploding across the field. A shockwave thundering outward.

ZEXAL Morph: V was flung back, splitting apart midair. Yuma and Ray hitting the ground hard–the impact driving the breath from their lungs. As their shared Life Points dropped to 0.

Silence.

Then–

The Duel interface flickered one last time: VICTORY.

Across the field, Don Thousand’s form buckled, then shattered. A fractured wail piercing the void as his shape tore apart, bursting into black fragments. Two distinct shadows unraveling from the collapse–one, the remnant of Nasch’s Shadow…the other, the fragment of Don Thousand that had been clinging to Yuma all along.

Kite and Mizar separated as the fusion dissipated, the golden glow fading around them. Mizar collapsing, utterly drained, but Kite right there to catch him with a firm grip before he fell. A brief, silent exchange passing between them–part respect, part relief.

Across the field, Nasch and Dumon moved quickly. Nasch extending a hand, reclaiming at long last his Barian powers as the dark essence of his Shadow swirled toward him–merging back into his form.

Before, without hesitation, the two split: Nasch heading for Ray, Dumon for Yuma.

But before Dumon could even reach his friend, Yuma was already stirring. Red eyes blinked back to awareness, and panic surging across his face the moment they locked onto Ray’s still form.

“Ray–!”

Yuma shot up, racing across the platform. Dropping to his knees at Ray’s side, trembling hands reaching out as he pulled him into his arms.

“...Ray…” Yuma whispered, voice shaking with desperation.

He cradled him delicately, rocking him slightly–desperately searching for comfort in the warmth still lingering in Ray’s body. But uncertainty filling Yuma’s gaze. Fear rooted deep, whispering that it might be too late–that even though Don Thousand was gone, Ray had paid too great a price.

Yuma’s grip tightened as he buried his face in Ray’s chest, breath hitching.

Shark and now Dumon who had finally reached them, didn’t speak. They simply watched in heavy silence as Yuma clung to the person he loved most.

In time, Yuma slowly drew back. One hand trembling as he reached up to stroke Ray’s face. “You’re safe now…” He whispered. “Don Thousand will never hurt you again… So…”

A pause.

“...Please, Ray… Come back to me…”

Kite’s eyes flickered with worry as he watched Yuma’s suffering unfold. His gaze shifting to Mizar, whose hands curled into fists at his sides, his usual calm replaced by a rare, raw tension. Without thinking, Kite tightened his hold around Mizar, who leaned into him–both silently offering each other comfort and steadying themselves. Their eyes met briefly in a soft, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond quietly growing between them, even as they both hoped this wouldn’t end in tragedy for Yuma and his own bond with Ray.

For a moment, the silence loomed unbearable and even heavier than before.

Then–warmth.

A hand on Yuma’s cheek, wiping away tears he hadn’t realized were falling. Ray’s eyes opening slowly. His smile soft, voice even softer.

“Yuma…”

The weight lifted instantly.

Yuma exhaling shakily as joy and relief crashed through him. They were both okay. Still breathing. Still together.

Ray shifted, sitting up carefully–before he pulled Yuma close, not hesitating. Their lips meeting in fierce kisses, a whirlwind of emotion pouring out: grief, fear, desperation, and overwhelming love. Yuma’s arms locking around Ray’s form, refusing to let go.

It was okay now.

Or at least–it would be.

But before they could lose themselves in this hard-earned peace…something shifted.

“What was th–” Dumon began, the words catching in his throat.

The fragment of Don Thousand–the one that had once been bound to Yuma–began to quake. Cracks splintering through its surface as a corrosive black mist bled into the air.

Twisting and curling in on itself.

Reforming and condensing–pulling inward until something took shape.

Jet-black skin with green markings traced occasionally across its body, accented at times with blue gems. Red and green markings curling around sharp features on its face. A tall, spiked mohawk of black curled in ward for hair. And then–mismatched eyes opened.

One pitch black. One glowing gold.

Gleaming with recognition...and satisfaction.

Nasch and Dumon moved in an instanly to stand in front of Ray and Yuma respectively.

“...No. It can’t be–”

A slow grin stretched across the figure’s face, now hovering there.

“Miss me?”

The grin deepened–a promise of chaos to come. While the voice was unmistakable.

Number 96.

Chapter Text

“Free…at last.”

The words slithered out like silk, laced with glee. Number 96 hovered in the air, arms spread wide, the black mist of his rebirth still curling off his form like smoke. His mismatched eyes gleaming–one pitch black, the other blazing gold–as he drank in the silence that followed his return.

“Can you feel it?” He whispered, grin stretching wider. “The emptiness he left behind...ripe for the taking.”

His attention shifted to the fragmented essence of Don Thousand. Without hesitation he raised one hand, greedily drawing the divine essence into himself. No longer a pawn. No longer anyone’s puppet.

He would be the master now.

Power surged through his frame as his body lifted slightly more, mist curling upward. Number 96 closed his eyes, head tilting back as if savoring the taste of this darkness–reveling in the power Don Thousand had left behind.

“No more chains. No more Don Thousand. Just me.”

His laughter began low, almost delighted. “And not a moment too soon. The world’s…mine for the molding.”

But then–

His eyes snapped to the group.

Something was wrong.

He squinted at Dumon and Shark. Tilted his head at Kite and Mizar. Frowned faintly at Vector.

And then his eyes locked on Yuma.

Something flickered in them. A hitch in his breath.

“...What is this?” He muttered. “You…you’re different.”

He drifted closer, the joy from moments ago dulling into confusion. “Older. No. This isn’t right.”

Number 96 looked down at his own hands, flexing his fingers. “The last thing I remember was Astral…and you–” his gaze sharpened on Yuma. “A boy.”

The smugness slipped from his voice, replaced by something colder. More dangerous.

“How long have I been gone?”

Ray stepped forward without hesitation, placing himself between Yuma and Number 96.

Yuma’s voice was low and partially guarded. He hesitated–clearly weighing the risk of honesty–before finally speaking.

“Five years.”

Number 96’s eye twitched. The black aura around him pulsing once–unsteady and jagged.

“Five years…without me?” His grin twisted, almost convulsing. “Unacceptable.”

Number 96’s eyes swept the group again–sharper now, calculating.

“Where is Astral?” He asked, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath.

Yuma’s stance shifted instantly, stepping out from behind Vector. His eyes narrowing, hard. “Like I’d ever tell you!”

For a moment, the air tensed–Number 96 looked ready to strike, his aura flaring dark and unstable.

But then…a flicker of realization passed over his face.

His eyes snapped back to Yuma–narrowing, his lips curling into something colder. Ray was already reacting, reaching to pull Yuma behind him.

But Number 96 was faster.

He didn’t move physically, but his will surged outward. A pulse of energy flaring around Yuma’s Duel Case. It cracked open with a snap as the deck inside began to glow.

One card slipped free–spiraling into the air as if drawn by invisible threads–before landing neatly in Number 96’s grasp.

Number 96: Dark Mist.

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Ray’s eyes narrowed as he once again positioned himself protectively in front of Yuma. Dumon stepped forward defensively. Shark’s hand twitched at his side. Kite and Mizar locking in, eyes sharpening, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

But Number 96 just smiled, cradling the card like a long-lost part of himself.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, voice low and venom-laced. “This isn’t the place. Not yet. There’s still so much I need to see…and take.”

His gaze lingered on Yuma.

“Soon…we’ll settle our score. Then I’ll finish what I started with Astral. And this time…” His mismatched eyes burned with cruel certainty. “I will win.”

With that, Number 96 turned–his form streaking into the void. His laughter echoing as he vanished into the distance, leaving only silence behind in his wake.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then–Mizar shifted, taking a weary step forward despite the toll of battle. His body tensed, poised to give chase.

But this time, Kite was faster. He caught Mizar’s arm, grip firm and unyielding.

Mizar turned sharply, frustration flashing in his eyes.

But Kite didn’t let go. “Mizar, don’t,” he said–his voice steady, but beneath it, a thread of vulnerability.

There was more he wanted to say. More he needed to.

Mizar met his gaze for a heartbeat–and then, with a sharp exhale, he nodded in silent understanding.

A moment more passed before Nasch’s voice broke the silence.

“Let him go for now,” Nasch said, calm but commanding. “We’re in no state to force a confrontation.”

Dumon nodded in quiet agreement. His gaze drifting toward Yuma and Vector–still close, still visibly shaken and drained both mentally and physically.

“Our priority is getting them back to the ship,” Dumon added. “Yuma and Vector need rest. All of us do.”

Yuma was silent as Dumon’s words hung in the air. His gaze remained fixed on the place where Number 96 had vanished. His breath was steady, but one hand had unconsciously clenched into a fist.

The tension in his body only beginning to ease when his red eyes met Ray’s–steady, violet eyes, focused entirely on him. Attentively checking in on him with quiet concern.

A soft smile crossed Yuma’s face as he reached out, gently taking Ray’s hand in his own.

He let the warmth of that connection ground him, his thumb brushing slowly over Ray’s knuckles. Number 96’s return was troubling and dangerous–but there had also been a victory. Ray was alive. Don Thousand was gone. The Shadows of the Barian Emperors were behind them. And that mattered.

They deserved, a moment of peace to acknowledge that they’d made it out. Together.

But as his gaze drifted over to the others, Yuma’s expression shifted. There were faces missing. And he tilted his head slightly, his voice quiet but curious. “Did the others come too?”

Shark nodded. “They did.”

The response was curt at first, but then he added, “Though…they weren’t exactly thrilled when I asked them to stay behind instead of joining us.”

His eyes shifted toward Ray.

“But I had a feeling you were planning something reckless–after our talk on the ship,” he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and dry amusement. “I figured it was better if they didn’t see it firsthand.”

He let out a sigh, already imagining the earful Rio would give him later. Still, he stood by the decision. Ray didn’t need a crowd watching his earlier performance–real or not. It was better to keep the confrontation small and controlled, something they could explain later without sowing unnecessary doubt.

Ray had earned his place among them. And Shark didn’t want that undermined–not after everything.

Dumon let out a quiet chuckle as Ray blinked, clearly stunned by the thoughtfulness Shark had shown. More than that, the trust behind it.

He knew he didn’t deserve it. Even if the other Emperors–and their other friends–insisted otherwise, Ray still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was the outlier. The black sheep Yuma insisted on keeping around, tolerated more than accepted by the others.

But Shark’s quiet care, that protective instinct? It was a surprise. A welcomed one. And maybe, just maybe, a sign they were finding some real common ground. Though, thoughts were interrupted as Dumon spoke up.

“Nasch…didn’t you have something else you intended?” He reminded.

“I was getting to that…” Shark muttered, a bit defensively.

He’d never been one for outward sentiment. Emotional vulnerability was something he reserved for private moments–usually with Dumon. So putting his thoughts into words now wasn’t easy. He sighed again, clearly feeling Dumon’s expectant gaze urging him forward.

After a brief pause, Shark relented. His hand moved to his deck case, fingers pulling out a single card.

“Look, Ray…you’ve proven yourself time and time again,” Shark said. “You don’t need to keep proving your loyalty. Not to me. Not to any of us.”

He held the card out slowly.

Rank-Up-Magic: The Seventh One.

“It’ll make summoning your Chaos Xyz less of a pain,” he added, stuffing his hands back in his pockets as Ray took the card. “...It’s long overdue. You’re as much an Emperor as the rest of us.”

Ray’s hands trembled slightly as he looked down at the card–his eyes wide, flickering between awe and disbelief.

“Shark… I…”

“Don’t even start with the ‘I don’t deserve it’ crap,” Shark interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind.

Ray swallowed the rest of the thought and gave a small nod, carefully sliding the card into his deck case.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I won’t let you down.”

“I never thought you would,” Shark replied, sinking back into place beside Dumon.

Dumon smiled softly, reaching out to gently take Nasch’s hand in his own. There was pride in his expression, and a clear longing to voice it–but for Nasch’s sake, he held his tongue. Dumon knew better than to embarrass him in front of the others. Instead, he’d let the gesture speak for itself, soft eyes intently focused on his partner. His thumb brushing once across Nasch’s knuckles–steady, grounding and warm.

Nasch’s deep blue eyes flicked toward him, his usual stoicism faltering for just a moment. A flicker of color reaching his cheeks, betraying a blush he tried to pass off by averting his gaze. He knew exactly what Dumon wanted to say–and the knowing look on Dumon’s face didn’t help.

Especially because Dumon looked far too pleased with himself. Adorably so.

Nasch cleared his throat, forcibly composing himself. Pulling his hand back just slightly, but not letting go.

Nearby, Yuma watched the exchange–his eyes soft, a little misty even. There was something deeply comforting in seeing his friends like this. Connected. Whole. For all the chaos they’d been through and moments like these reminded him what they were fighting for.

He leaned in slightly against Ray, grinning. “It’s definitely gonna make getting our signature card out way easier~!”

Ray gave a quiet laugh, his gaze fixed on Yuma with a warmth that said everything he didn’t. But just as their moment began to settle–

A hesitant step forward broke the quiet.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Vector…” Mizar said, voice quieter than usual. “Even after you saved my life.”

Ray’s attention shifted slowly as his purple eyes focused on Mizar. A small shake of his head following. “It’s alright, Mizar,” Ray assured, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly...not trusting me helped. It made the performance more believable.”

A flicker of amusement lit in Ray’s eyes. “And did you see the look on Don Thousand’s face?” He added, laughter slipping out. “Priceless.”

Mizar stood silent for a moment, gaze flickering with something unreadable–regret, perhaps–but then a smirk curved across his lips. “No longer will he make fools of either of us.”

Ray nodded firmly. “He couldn’t even if he tried. And like I said from the start, Mizar–I knew you could beat him. Even if you needed a little help,” Ray said, his gaze flicking toward Kite.

Kite, arms crossed, let out a low breath–somewhere between relief and dry amusement. “I’m just glad I finally got through his stubbornness–”

Before he could finish, Yuma’s voice cut in excitedly. “Kite! That ZEXAL Morph with Mizar was awesome!” He blurted out, practically bouncing on his heels.

Kite blinked once, but then his lips twitched into a small warm smile. “It certainly was, Yuma.” Then, with a pointed glance back at him he added. “Guess you’re not the only one who can use ZEXAL anymore. You’d better keep up–Mizar and I can’t be expected to always save you.”

Yuma flailed dramatically in protest. “Next time, me and Ray are gonna be on the front lines!” He declared with determination, pointing a finger.

Kite smirked. “You’d better be…both of you.”

Ray glanced sideways at Yuma, their hands brushing–then naturally lacing together without hesitation. He gave Yuma’s hand a gentle squeeze, smiling softly at his partner before lifting his gaze back to Mizar and Kite, his voice steady with quiet resolve. “We will be.”

Dumon cleared his throat gently, drawing their attention. “I think it’s time we all returned. Together…don’t you?”

No one disagreed. As the group slowly gathered closer, Nasch–his Barian powers finally restored–stepped forward and raised a hand. A shimmer of energy pulsing as he opened a Barian portal back to the awaiting ship.

The promise of rest...of safety...shimmering just beyond.

As well as the promise of returning home.

Together.

Chapter Text

The ship hovered within the dimensional rift with an eerie calm, suspended between the chaos of their mission and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. For hours, since the dispatching of monsters, there had been nothing more than the steady hum of the engines and the quiet pulse of the rift's energy outside. An unspoken reminder that the outcome of their efforts remained unknown. Especially for those who had been asked to wait behind.

There had been light conversation in the beginning, but it had died down as the tension grew. Quattro, Rio, Kotori, Alito, and Girag were all lost in their own thoughts, a heaviness in the air as they waited for their friends to return. The silence was suffocating at times, but none dared speak the worry that clung to them.

Yet, it was Alito who finally dared to break the stillness, his voice sharp as he shot to his feet. Bouncing on his toes a couple of times, fists jabbing the air as if preparing for battle. “That’s it! I’m going after Nasch!”

Girag, always one to enjoy a bit of action, stood up with a stretch, cracking his knuckles with a satisfied sound. “Yeah, we didn’t come here for no babysitting duty.”

The two shared a brief look of agreement, but before they could move, Rio’s calm voice cut through the tension. “My brother asked us to wait,” she reminded them, her posture not aggressive, but firm as she rose.

Alito rolled his eyes, but his voice softened with a teasing grin. “Come on, Marin–don’t act like you don’t hate sitting still as much as we do.”

Rio crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Maybe I do. But...my brother had his reasons. He didn’t ask us to wait just to keep us out of the action or because he doesn’t think we can handle ourselves,” she responded–her voice softening slightly, as the memory of Reginald’s eyes–his unspoken plea, weighed heavily on her words. “It’s something else, and... I trust him on this. For now.”

The group fell into a quiet, shared understanding at her words. Kotori, who had been unusually quiet, reached out and gently took Alito’s hand, trying to ground him. “I think the others are okay. If something had happened, we’d certainly hear Orbital 7’s shrieks over Kite from the cockpit by now.”

The truth of that brought a measure of comfort, but it didn’t erase the anxious knot in the pit of their stomachs. Quattro leaned back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “Reginald’s gonna owe us big time after this. I’m calling it now–we’ll be running the next mission and he’ll be the one sitting on the sidelines while we lead the charge.”

Alito smirked, his usual carefree nature returning as he leaned back. “Yeah, that’s right. He can't hog all the glory!”

Rio couldn’t help but smile at the banter between them, though it was tinged with an edge of uncertainty. She just hoped her decision to trust Reginald’s instincts wasn’t going to be a costly one.

Almost on cue, as Rio’s uncertainty deepened, the air within the room seemed to shift. A flash of light erupting from nowhere, refracting across the ship’s sleek interior walls. The hum of the rift intensifying as a Barian portal flared to life before their eyes, and without hesitation, all eyes locked on it.

One by one, familiar faces emerged: Shark and Dumon first, followed by Kite and Mizar. Then, the final pair–Ray and Yuma.

They were back. All of them.

Their appearances told the tale of their journey–tired eyes, battle-worn clothes–but nothing that couldn’t be mended with rest. And in that moment, as the tension finally began to dissolve, an unspoken relief washed over the group. The waiting was over. The uncertainty, gone. This was the moment they’d all been hoping for, and now that it had arrived, the weight of doubt seemed to lift.

Kotori was the first to move, her feet almost carrying her before her mind had fully processed the relief. She rushed forward, arms flying open to pull Yuma into a tight embrace. “You…idiot. You really had us worried!” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and though a smile tugged at her lips, there was a glimmer of moisture in her eyes.

Yuma blinked in surprise, his red eyes widening. Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around her in return. “Hey, it all worked out, right?”

Tori pulled back slightly after a moment, her hands settling on Yuma’s shoulders as she studied him with a mix of exasperation and relief. “I don’t know if I can take any more of these ‘close calls,’” she murmured, her eyes casting to Alito as he stepped forward–his usual playful grin plastered across his face–and she took a respectful step back to allow him a moment with their friend.

“Took you long enough,” Alito teased, his voice light as he offered a friendly fist bump to Yuma. “You had us all on edge!”

Yuma smirked and bumped Alito’s fist back. “You know me,” he said with a wink, trying to make light of the real weight behind the situation. “Got to keep you all on your toes.”

“It’s good to have you back, Yuma.”

Girag’s voice was gruff as it cut in, but there was a warmth to it as he approached. Alito gently took Kotori’s hand, allowing room for the larger Barian to step closer. Girag’s hand coming to rest on Yuma’s shoulder with a surprising gentleness. “But now that you’re back, don’t go giving Ray any more scares like that,” he added, his tone shifting just slightly. “He was really shaken up when Don Thousand took control of you.”

Yuma glanced over at Ray, catching his eyes for a moment before quickly looking back at Girag. His voice quiet but firm. “I don’t plan to,” he assured, though there was still a hint of vulnerability in his gaze.

Girag nodded once, satisfied, before stepping back to give room for the last two to approach. Rio, ever the caring friend, didn’t hesitate. She moved in to offer a soft hug, much like Kotori had before her. “You’re okay, right?” She asked softly, her voice thick with concern.

Yuma returned the embrace, though his movements were slower now. “Yeah…just a little tired,” he admitted with a weary smile.

Rio pulled back slightly, but her gaze didn’t leave him. “Then why don’t you and Ray go get some rest?” She suggested, her voice carrying a gentle, yet insistent tone.

Yet, before the moment could settle, Shark’s voice cut through the air, his arms crossed as he leaned back. “I was about to tell all of you to give them space to rest before you crowded around Yuma,” he said, his tone dripping with dry humor.

Rio’s dark pink eyes snapped to her brother, irritation flashing across her face. “Well, excuse us for being worried, Reginald!” She retorted, crossing her arms. “A certain someone told us we couldn’t join the last part of the mission!”

She didn’t hesitate to remind him of the request he had made–telling them to stay behind while he handled things with the others.

“Whatever, Rio,” Shark muttered, sinking his hands into his pockets and giving her a dismissive glance.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me, Reginald!” Rio huffed, clearly irritated. “I’ve been sitting here, worried about you, Yuma, and the others!”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before a realization dawned causing her next words spoken to come with a surprising amount of authority. “And listen up–next time, the rest of us are taking the lead. You’re not sidelining us again!”

Shark’s eyebrow arched, clearly caught off guard by Rio’s sudden proclamation. “What?” He responded. “Who decided that?”

“I did,” Quattro said with a smug smile. “Got a problem with that, Reginald?”

“Quattro…” Shark muttered, shooting him a glare that could’ve set the ship’s hull on fire.

“Now, now, let’s keep it civil, you two,” Dumon interjected, his voice calm but firm as he stepped between them, ever the peacekeeper.

From the side, a brief smile tugged at Kite’s lips, though it was quickly masked by his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m going to go make sure Orbital 7 isn’t slacking off,” he said, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Try not to damage the ship, or you’ll be the ones paying for it.”

“He started it!” Both Shark and Quattro exclaimed in unison, pointing accusingly at each other.

Kite shook his head, lips twitching slightly in amusement. Yet, his expression remained focused. “Come on, Mizar,” he said, his eyes shifting toward the blond-haired Barian beside him.

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for Mizar’s hand without a second thought. Mizar’s blue eyes widening in surprise for a moment before a soft understanding seemed to settle behind them. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Mizar’s fingers interwove with Kite’s–an intimate gesture, simple but significant. And one he had observed being used often between Yuma and Ray.

Kite was caught off guard for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through him at the contact. But, instead of shying away from it, he welcomed the feeling, letting it settle over him as he led Mizar toward the cockpit without another word. As the door to the cockpit opened, his voice cut through the still air sharply. “Orbital 7.”

The small robot turned abruptly from his station, its mechanical limbs clicking as he straightened up. “We-Welcome back, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 greeted with a sharp salute. “All systems remain fully operational!”

“Good. Then chart a course home,” Kite replied, his tone steady, despite his mind still being focused on Mizar.

“R-Right away, Ma-Master Kite!” Orbital 7 responded, saluting again, before quickly turning to his task.

Kite took a few strides forward, feeling Mizar begin to tug away towards the co-pilot chair. But instead of letting him retreat, Kite tugged firmly on Mizar’s hand, pulling him back towards him. Mizar blinking in surprise, his blue eyes wide as he was caught off guard. For a brief moment, Mizar’s gaze shifted between the ship’s surroundings and Kite, unsure of what exactly was happening.

Kite’s eyes softening for just an instant in response before he settled into his chair, still holding Mizar’s hand. Then without hesitation, he pulled Mizar towards him, guiding him into his lap with ease. Mizar’s breath catching in his throat at the sudden shift, his blue eyes focusing intently on Kite as he processed the action.

One hand slipped around Mizar’s waist, pulling him closer, while the other gently cupped Mizar’s face, his thumb brushing lightly against the Barian’s skin. For a long moment, their eyes locked–Kite’s grey-blue meeting Mizar’s blue hue. A quiet understanding settling between them, a silent agreement that they had both crossed an invisible line. And then without a word, Kite leaned in, his lips brushing against Mizar’s in a kiss that spoke more than words could ever express.

The sudden intimacy caught Orbital 7’s attention from where he was working at the controls, his small mechanical eyes flickering as he paused mid-task. The sight of the two of them drawing his attention completely, but Kite’s voice quickly snapped him back into focus.

“Orbital 7! Didn’t I give you an order?” Kite’s voice cut through the air with a sharp edge, but there was an underlying fondness in it.

“Th-That is...! I mean, yes, Master Kite!” Orbital 7 stammered, his circuits briefly short-circuiting with surprise. But as he turned back to his task, his tiny mechanical body gave an almost imperceptible twitch, and for the briefest moment, there was something almost fond in his expression. As he couldn’t help but feel happy for his master–happy that Kite was finally taking a step forward with Mizar.

Mizar was quiet for a long moment, his fingers slowly reaching up to touch his own lips. The warmth of Kite’s kiss was already fading, leaving behind an unfamiliar feeling that both unsettled and comforted him. His mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

“…Is this the chance…you were hoping for?” Mizar’s voice was soft, uncertain, his words hesitant as if testing the waters of something he still didn’t quite understand.

“It is.” Kite’s voice was firm, his resolve clear. He wasn’t going to hold back anymore–not after everything. “I love you, Mizar.”

The weight of those words hung between them, a stillness that settled over both of them. Kite had said everything he needed to, all at once–no more barriers, no more hesitation. Everything was out in the open now, leaving no chance for Mizar to second-guess him.

This wasn’t just an impulsive confession and it wasn’t one born from the kiss alone. They had both been circling this moment for some time now… The quiet night back at Yuma’s house, when they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. The softer, fleeting moments that followed–glances shared, small gestures and touches that spoke volumes more than words.

And then there was the awakening–the bond they had felt together when ZEXAL Morph: G manifested through them both. A connection forged in the fires of battle, yes, but also something deeper. Something neither of them had been able to fully voice at the time. Yet still, everything had led to this.

“I know you feel the same,” Kite said, his voice unwavering as his grey-blue eyes locked onto Mizar’s. “It’s why you didn’t give up when I asked you to believe in hope…to believe we’d have our chance.”

Mizar was quiet, his mind processing the weight of Kite’s words. His silence wasn’t one of rejection, but of deep contemplation. Love, to Mizar, had never been something he had expected in his life–especially not something shared with a human. The concept was alien to him. But here he was, caught in the act of allowing himself to feel it, to allow this–this connection–into his life.

And yet, if love was a concept meant to be in his life–in some way, it made sense that it could only be with Kite. The very man he had once regarded as his most worthy adversary–yet, now was becoming something else entirely. They were no longer rivals; Kite had made that much clear. They weren’t even friends, not really. What they had was more. So much more.

Mizar’s hands hovered uncertainly in the space between them, unfamiliar with the softness of this connection. With a hesitance that spoke to his inner turmoil, one hand shakily reaching out, settling atop Kite’s. His thumb brushing briefly against Kite’s skin, before the other hand–slow, tentative–mimicked the touch Kite had shown earlier. Letting his hand rest against Kite’s cheek, and his other thumb moving in an awkward, uncertain rhythm–like a hesitant attempt to replicate the gentle stroke that Kite had given him during their kiss.

Once more he paused briefly before he looking into Kite’s eyes, still unsure of the words but somehow needing to voice them. “…You would share this…with me?”

“There’s never been anyone else I could share this with…but you, Mizar,” Kite said softly, his voice steady but filled with a sincerity that reached all the way to Mizar’s core.

“Then we are agreed in that regard,” Mizar replied, his tone was still soft but carried the weight of something deeper. “If I am to explore the unknown, you are the only one worthy to have my heart–my love.”

Yet, just as those words finished his lips twitched, as if a faint smirk wanted to break free. A faint, teasing glint dancing in Mizar’s eyes as he added, almost under his breath, “Shall I refer to you as my ‘Most Worthy Lover’ now?”

Kite rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. “Get real, Mizar…” He muttered, though the affection in his voice was undeniable.

For a moment, their eyes met in a mutual understanding–softness and connection passing between them, as if they both knew this was only the beginning. And slowly, they leaned in, sharing a kiss that wasn’t just an expression of desire, but of the bond that had grown between them, in ways neither of them had expected.

And as the warmth of the moment lingered between Kite and Mizar, the ship’s hum seemed to settle into a quieter rhythm, as if acknowledging the shift in the air. Their worlds were no longer apart, no longer inches–but now tangled together in a connection both fragile and certain.

But even as they found solace in their space, others were seeking their own.

While Kite and Mizar remained in the cockpit, and the others began to settle in for the long journey home, two souls quietly slipped away–searching for a moment to themselves. A moment long denied. Long overdue.

And as the door to a private room clicked shut behind them, calm settled in almost immediately. The door clicking shut behind them with a soft hiss, sealing the two of them in quiet isolation.

The room was small, but not cramped–just enough space for a control panel, a low table, and a bed wider than standard-issue, tucked neatly into the far corner. One wall was entirely glass: a wide viewing window stretching from floor to ceiling, revealing the swirling, ethereal lights of the dimensional portal outside. Violets, blues, and soft golds drifting through the void like waves, casting gentle, shifting patterns across the metallic floor and walls. And while the ship had been built for necessity–this room, this one space, felt like it had been crafted with care. A place meant for breath. For coming back to life.

And for a moment, silence settled between them–neither heavy nor awkward. Just full. The kind of silence that bloomed after surviving something that should’ve destroyed them.

Then Yuma turned.

He stepped forward, unhurried but sure, and Ray instinctively stepped back–his shoulders brushing the closed door. His breath caught, not in fear, but in anticipation.

Yuma raised one hand and pressed it softly to the wall beside Ray’s head, fingers spreading for balance. The other ghosting along Ray’s side as he leaned in, his movements slow but deliberate. Then he stepped closer–his leg slipping naturally between Ray’s, pinning him in place. Not with force, but with gravity. As if the universe had tilted just slightly, and this was where everything settled.

Their lips met–fierce, desperate and real. And while it wasn’t their first kiss, it carried a weight no other had before. No hesitance and no restraint. Just a collision of everything they’d felt, feared, and fought for.

Ray shivered–not from being cold, but from the overwhelming relief of it. From the shock of being alive in a moment he’d once thought he’d never reach. His arms rose slowly–then all at once. One curling around Yuma’s neck, drawing him closer; the other cradling his face, his thumb brushing the curve of his cheek, grounding them both in the now.

The kisses deepening–drawn-out and heated. The kind of heat that didn’t ask for more but offered everything. Desperate and unrestrained, like two souls who had been broken and rebuilt. Like two halves of something ancient and aching finally remembering how to be whole.

The lights from the portal outside dancing across their skin, catching in Ray’s lashes, casting soft halos along Yuma’s cheeks. Yet, they didn’t notice it at first–not really. But maybe, somewhere beneath the kiss, they felt it. The world softening around them. Time slowing down. Letting them have this.

There had been darkness. So much of it. Shadows and possession–a false betrayal. And the luxury of love–their love–had almost felt like something that would always be just out of reach. Something that was doomed to be snuffed out in a moments notice, forever.

But now? Now they were here. No strings. No control. No more borrowed time.

Just Yuma. Just Ray.

And in a moment that was finally, finally theirs.

The warmth of Yuma’s body pressed against him–solid and grounding. And Ray hadn’t realized–not fully–just how much he’d ached for this closeness. For the heat of Yuma’s heart, steady and alive, leaning into his own.

His arms held firm, lips moving with unwavering intensity, matching Yuma’s rhythm, breath for breath–until it broke. Just for a moment.

Their foreheads touching, a few soft pants slipping between them–quiet and raw–as they paused to catch themselves. Not out of hesitation, but because they were overwhelmed by everything that was finally allowed to exist between them.

Their lips hovered close, barely apart. And then Yuma’s voice came–low and fragile, shaped more by feeling than by sound.

“...Ray…please. I need you.”

It was a whisper. A plea, but not one born of desperation. It was reverent. It was the sound of trust… Of asking, not assuming.

Ray’s breath caught–his heart aching in the best possible way. Without hesitation, he leaned in, their noses brushing with featherlight affection. And then came the smile–soft and certain.

“Yuma,” he murmured, “I told you before…you don’t have to ask.”

His voice held no teasing, no edge–only truth.

“Whenever you need me–however you need me–I’ll always be here to answer.”

Yuma’s chest eased, and a quiet smile bloomed across his face. “I know,” he whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to push you. Not after everything you went through.”

And he meant it–every word. The Duel had nearly broken Ray–his body, his spirit and his heart. Yuma had watched it happen, helpless to act until the right moment. And now, with everything stripped bare, he didn’t want to take anything from him. Not without knowing Ray wanted to give it.

But the smile Ray gave him in return was warm. Unwavering. The kind of smile that didn’t just say he was willing–it said he wanted this, too.

“If I wasn’t,” Ray murmured, eyes half-lidded and catching the portal’s light. “We’d already be asleep.”

A heartbeat passed in stillness. Then they both laughed–quiet and breathless. The kind of laugh that trembled at the edges, born from relief, survival, and the steady realization that this wasn’t just comfort.

It was home.

And that was more than enough of an invitation.

Yuma slowly leaned back, his hands finding Ray’s with a tenderness that never rushed, never demanded. Fingers intertwining–warm and sure. For a moment, he just held them, like he could say everything he felt through that one connection alone.

Then, still holding on, he drew Ray with him–gentle and guiding. Each step they took toward the bed felt deliberate. Reverent. Like every movement was its own quiet vow.

Pausing only briefly to slip off their shoes, fingers brushing in the process–small, familiar touches grounding them in the here and now.

And then, finally, they sank into the bed together.

Yuma settled first, leaning back against the wall, drawing Ray easily into his lap. It was easy. Natural. Their bodies fitting together like they’d always belonged this way.

Their lips finding each other again–no hesitation now, only heat. Not frantic, but deep. Holding an urgency akin to the kind of need that is born after too much time spent apart and too many hours wondering if a moment like this would ever return.

In between kisses, their hands moved slowly and reverently, slipping beneath fabric with hesitant, reluctant motions. Each time their lips parted to remove a shirt or a layer, the brief distance felt like a fragile lifeline stretching–threatening to break. Yet, even in those small moments apart, their connection held steady, unyielding–a soft reminder that no force was there to rip them apart again.

And in this solace, it became clear that this moment was truly theirs for the taking. Thus, Ray didn’t hesitate to proceed.

***

His purple eyes flickered from Yuma’s red ones–and then to his lips, offering one final lingering kiss before his hand softly found its place above Yuma’s heart. Steading himself. Grounding himself in the warmth of Yuma’s skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat–so real beneath his fingers, reassuring him that they were both safe and here together, in this moment.

Ray paused for a breath, just for a moment, before gently taking Yuma’s hands and guiding him away from the wall. Easing him into the bed and settling him more naturally against the pillow, the weight of the world temporarily forgotten as they both exhaled into the quiet.

Ray paused one final time, taking a moment to simply admire the beauty of the man he loved. Yuma’s usual fierce, determined eyes had softened, their intensity now replaced by a tenderness as they focused entirely on him. The subtle parting of his lips seemed to invite another connection, another shared breath–as if waiting for the next word or gesture that would bring them even closer.

There was also something in the way Yuma’s features had matured: a quiet refinement that came with age, yet still carried a vulnerability beneath it. His long red bangs outlining it as the black hair that cascaded in the back settled softly, blending with the sheets in a cascade of gentle waves.

And in that stillness, Ray fully realized just how lucky he was to be here with Yuma. To be chosen by him. To be loved without hesitation, held so completely in the heart of someone who gave his affections without reservation. And knowing this–truly knowing it–Ray knew he would never take any of it for granted.

With a quiet but resolute breath, Ray moved forward. Carefully placing his hands into the sheets on either side of Yuma, Ray leaned down and pressed a sweet, tender kiss to his lips. Before beginning his deliberate descent, placing soft lingering kisses here and there along Yuma’s skin. Yuma tensing beneath him in building anticipation. Ray’s one hand shifting casually to grace along Yuma’s crotch as he sucked lightly at the skin above Yuma’s pants line now.

That same hand drawing up to carefully undo the button of Yuma’s tightening pants and offer some relief before he slid the constraining pants away. Letting them fall against the floor, before Ray settled back in.

Yuma’s face flushed deeper, warmth blooming in his cheeks as he felt Ray nuzzle his face against his crotch. The closeness sparking something electric within Yuma as a soft squeak of delight escaped his lips. Before being replaced by a more solid moan as Ray’s lips sucked softly at the fabric of his boxers. The dampness setting in as Yuma squirmed beneath him. Anticipation and excitement coiling firmly around him–as his heart beat began to escalate.

Yuma’s hands instinctively bunching the fabric beneath him, soft tremors running through him as he squirmed in delight beneath Ray. “...Stop teasing me, Vector–”

They both froze. Ray and Yuma locking eyes, the air thick with unspoken emotion. Ray drew back slightly, blinking as if to confirm he’d really heard it–his true name.

Yuma’s heart stumbled, panic welling up as he sat upright. “I–Is everything okay?” His voice trembled with worry. Had he ruined their moment with that slip?

Ray shook his head, offering a soft, apologetic smile. “Sorry… It’s just…you don’t usually call me by my real name.” His purple eyes lingered on Yuma, searching.

A flush of embarrassment now crept across Ray’s face. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I mean…too you, I’ve always been Ray,” he stammered. “And well…while it’s been endearing… I just…” Ray’s gaze wavered, uncertain and raw.

Yuma’s breath hitched, the weight of the moment settling between them. The earlier passion fading, replaced now with guilt. “You think I use ‘Ray’ instead because I associate Vector with darker times,” Yuma whispered, voice catching. “As if that part of you is something I want you to hide–a part I don’t want to see.”

Ray nodded slowly, and Yuma felt the realization strike like a blow to his chest. This wasn’t just guilt–it was grief. Grief for the pain he’d overlooked, and shame for having dismissed the full breadth of the man he loved.

“...Vector, I’m sorry,” Yuma said softly, deliberately using his true name–and meaning it. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. Should I…stop calling you Ray?”

Vector shook his head. “No. I like it when you call me Ray,” he replied, voice quiet but steady. “But maybe…every now and then–or in moments like this–you could use my real name too.”

Yuma nodded, a deeper ache blooming in his chest. He finally understood. Really understood.

All this time, Vector must have wondered if Yuma was in love with the idea of ‘Ray.’ The safer version. The name that didn’t carry scars.

But Ray and Vector were one and the same. And Vector had been trying–was still trying–to be someone worthy of love. And Yuma did love him. Not despite who he was, but because of who he was–flaws, past mistakes, and all.

And now, that love must have sounded hollow. All those times Yuma had whispered ‘I love you, Ray’–it must have stung, deep. Like he couldn’t bear to look at Vector without seeing only the shadows of his past. As if he believed Vector wasn’t someone deserving of warmth, or capable of care–or even love. As if those things only belonged to Ray.

And as if Yuma’s love was only conditional on forgetting Vector entirely and associating him solely with Ray.

But that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Vector was trying. Trying to live without fear. Without cruelty. Trying to be the version of himself that could love and be loved–and Yuma hadn’t seen just how much that mattered.

He’d just…gotten used to the name, Ray. Five years of habit, and he’d never in that entire time stopped to ask what Vector needed.

“Ugh, I’m such an idiot,” Yuma groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Vector gently took Yuma’s hand from his face, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to his knuckles. “No, Yuma…it’s okay,” he said quietly, his voice full of reassurance.

But Yuma shook his head. “No, it’s not. I need to be more attentive to you,” he said firmly, without hesitation. “I’m going to do better. I promise–because I love you.”

He paused, and then his eyes met Vector’s eyes–red to violet, steady and unflinching.

“I love you, Vector.”

The name–his true name–landed like a vow, not a label. And something lit behind Vector’s gaze. A gleam of warmth, fragile but growing, shimmering in the violet of his eyes.

Yuma couldn’t help but smile in turn, his heart swelling with quiet joy. Admiring how beautiful Vector was, when he was happy–truly happy.

This happiness was his–not Ray’s. It belonged to Vector.

And hopefully, Vector would start to believe ‘he’ deserved this.

Yuma’s hands moved gently to Vector’s face, thumbs brushing softly along his cheeks as he drew him closer. Their lips meeting in a kiss–no fire or urgency yet, just a deep, unhurried press of emotion. Passionate and full of soul. Yuma pouring everything into it–all the truths he hadn’t said and all the love burning quietly within.

Vector’s name had once carried pain–memories sharp and jagged, hard to hold. But that didn’t mean new memories couldn’t be made. Better ones. Memories that would soften those shadows and bring warmth to the name instead of sorrow or dread.

And Yuma was determined. Vector wouldn’t suffer in silence anymore–not under that name, not in the love they shared. They would keep moving forward. Together. Not just finding happiness with their friends, but in each other.

Their lips parted slowly, but neither moved far. They stayed close–foreheads brushing, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

Vector let out a soft sigh, his hands resting gently against Yuma’s chest–calm now, steady, as if he could finally breathe freely again. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper.

Yuma gave a small smile. “For what?”

“For saying it…for meaning it.” Vector’s fingers curled slightly. “And for seeing me–all of me.”

Yuma leaned forward again, brushing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Always.”

The room around them felt softer now, as if even the air had settled into something kinder. The light from the portal outside shimmering faintly through the window, casting violet and blue hues across the bed–painting them in gentle light, like something sacred.

Yuma shifted back slightly, easing Vector down with him, arms still wrapped around his partner. There was no rush, no urgency–only the warmth of their bodies aligned and the slow, familiar beat of two hearts finding their rhythm again.

And yet, even in that calm, Vector couldn’t help but tease. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” He asked with a slight grin, raising his head just enough to meet Yuma’s gaze. His fingers tracing lightly along Yuma’s skin–casual at first, then drifting lower in slow, suggestive passes. “...You sure you’re ready for bed?”

Yuma’s cheeks burned instantly, his breath catching as his words fumbled into silence, too flustered to reply. Vector taking that as an open invitation to proceed, his finger slipping down to loop into the elastic portion of Yuma’s boxers. Once more trailing tender and affectionate kisses along his skin as he moved. Slowly and deliberately tugging the last remaining article of clothing down slowly. Feeling Yuma arch beneath him in desperation.

“Vector!”

The soft gasp escaped as the heat and intensity of before resumed in full force now. The anticipation becoming more and more unbearable. Vector’s soft and lingering touches as he reached the base of Yuma’s shaft sending electricity coursing through his body as Yuma squirmed in yearning. The last brush of his boxers slipping over the tip before being tossed aside sending another wave through his form, a half-desperate cry parting his lips.

Yet, he didn’t want to just lie back and let Vector unravel him–not this time. He needed to give something in return. To show his love in more than words. To meet Vector’s care with his own devotion–something attentive, something sacred.

Yuma’s breath caught, the edges of his focus fraying under Vector’s patient care. Yet, he still managed to find his voice. “...Vector–wait…!”

Vector stilled immediately, gaze lifting to meet Yuma’s with a flicker of surprise–then understanding. A slow smile curving at his lips, something soft behind it. Not mockery. Not dominance. Just…affection.

“You’re stopping me?” He asked, tilting his head. “That’s new.”

Yuma flushed, but his eyes stayed locked on Vector’s. Vector pulled back just a little, his gaze steady and unwavering as he studied the uneven rise and fall of Yuma’s chest–still trembling with the weight of their charged moment. Beneath him, he could feel the subtle quiver in Yuma’s body as his breathing slowly evened out, grounding them both and allowing Yuma to find a more steady voice.

“I just… I want to give something back. Not just lie here and fall apart every time you touch me.” He paused, hands pressing against the sheets as he sat up. “I want to show you how much I love you too. So, let me.”

Vector blinked once. Twice. Then sat back questioningly, his voice low and sincere–with an air of affectionate teasing. “You were hardly passive last time…” Vector remarked, a soft flutter emerging in his chest.

But then his smile shifted–mischievous and inviting. “Still,” he murmured, trailing a fingertip lightly along Yuma’s length. “If you want in, I’m not going to stop you…”

Yuma’s hands trembled slightly as he carefully shifted himself, guiding Vector into place before he himself settled into the new position. The pair lying side by side now and yet at in opposing directions, Yuma’s one hand finding its way onto Vector’s firm posterior–as one finger lightly stroked his entrance. While, the other moved to the base of his shaft, offering a soft squeeze as he leaned forward to carefully take him into his mouth.

Vector squirmed almost instantly, unable to stop himself from pushing in deeper–arching longingly into Yuma’s touch. His skin alive beneath the careful drag of Yuma’s lips. Every brush of contact as Yuma took in more of him felt magnified–like he was being memorized. A soft moan escaping his lips as this new sensation truly took him. And while he was surprised by the unexpected gesture it was not unwelcomed. Vector’s cheeks flushing in turn from being caught off guard in a way that only made him feel more present, more alive.

This wasn’t exactly where he’d expected the night to go, but he wasn’t complaining. Anything with Yuma felt natural after all–like they were two pieces of the same puzzle, always meant to fit.

They’d been through so much to get here. Survived things neither of them thought they would. And now, all Vector wanted was more moments with Yuma. No matter what shape or form they took. He was all in. For this. For them. And he would give just as much in return.

As such his own hands found their way around Yuma, happy to mirror the gesture in kind. Soft moans drifting across skin, echoing like ripples on still water–quiet, steady and intimate. Their bodies responding to each other instinctively, drawn in by touch, by trust, by everything unspoken between them.

Fingers dipping respectively into one another, tracing gently–soft, simple, and perfectly timed. Easing in, each additional finger as they explored one another–pushing deeper with a more defined thrusting motion. Every movement and gentle nudge against the lining of skin sending subtle waves of electricity through them and leaving their bodies aching for more.

Each trying to carefully undo one another in their own methods. Vector’s tongue, expertly navigating along Yuma’s shaft as he bobbed his head. Completely, familiar with the taste that came along with the man he loved–and fully aware how to draw out reactions to unravel him slowly and deliberately with his mouth.

But for Yuma, this was still uncharted territory. While, his fingers seemed to work masterfully within Vector–taking great satisfaction in each tremble and moan felt against his skin. He was still familiarizing himself with both the size and length of Vector. Taking time and care to focus in and memorize each reaction and shift. And in time he was finding a rhythm that seemed to be working just fine.

The comfort of Vector’s taste surprising–given the unexpected sweetness to it–almost as if perhaps being Barian allowed for certain alterations in their physical anatomy. And Yuma was oddly drawn to it, like a fly to honey. His tongue not shying away as it flicked along the length of Vector’s member. Drawing deeper between sucks, more fervent in his movement. Vector’s own gasps against Yuma’s respective member only pushing the Barian Emperor to match every touch Yuma offered. As their bodies shivered in sync.

Yet, over time, Yuma could feel Vector’s body begin to tense–his breath coming faster, each intake of air sharper, as his body trembled under the weight of their closeness. The heat between them was becoming unbearable, and Yuma knew that neither of them could last much longer if they continued on this path. Gently, he pulled back, creating a brief space between them–just enough to breathe, to think, to regain some semblance of control.

And as he did, Yuma's gaze fell on Vector–his heart skipping a beat. The sight of him laid bare like this, on the edge of unraveling, stirred something deep within him. Desperation flickered in Vector’s eyes, but it was tempered with something softer–vulnerable, even trusting. He wasn’t pushing for more; he was simply there, with Yuma, waiting to see where this would go.

Yuma reached out instinctively, pulling him closer into a tender embrace, his arms enveloping him with warmth and reassurance. A feeling of home. He pressed a soft kiss to Vector’s cheek, a gesture filled with affection and the gentleness of everything he wanted to offer.

“...I wasn’t exactly fair this time, was I?” Yuma murmured, his voice a soft whisper against Vector’s skin, laden with sincerity. There was no shame in his words, only an understanding of the intense moment they’d shared. “Next time, you can lead. But for now...let me take care of you, okay?”

Their eyes met–red and violet–and in Vector’s gaze, Yuma saw a flicker of relief bloom through the tension. And Yuma gently eased Vector down onto his back–letting his head rest against one of the pillows. Before shifting back allowing Vector room to breathe as Yuma readjusted.

Yuma carefully placed his hands on either side of Vector as he eased himself back down, his tongue lightly gliding along the tip of Vector’s member at first in an almost flicking motion. Before settling to slid along the length as Yuma began to take the first inches of his partner back into his mouth.

Vector’s fingers reaching out instinctually–one finding its way to the back of Yuma’s head, gently threading through strands of his long black hair to cradle him there. The other slipping down to Yuma’s wrist, gripping it in quiet support as he slowly came undone. Soft moans escaping as he arch his back–responding naturally to Yuma’s touch, in soft longing.

Yuma’s eyes fluttering closed now as he allowed himself to focus in this moment. Easing his head into a rhythmic bobbing motion–taking in more and more of Vector each time. Delicately tasting him with his tongue, carefully timing each gentle suck or adjustment. Vector’s soft voice moaning his name, all the reassurance Yuma needed as he worked away.

The world around Vector seemed to fade as he dissolved completely into Yuma, the feel and pressure of Yuma’s mouth around his member–overwhelming. And Vector could feel himself growing dizzy as everything seemed to swarm at once before he peaked and the satisfying release came. His rapid heartbeat surging before gradually settling, Vector’s body sinking into the sheets. A soft expression of peace and bliss crossing his features–still flushed, still breathless, but calm.

Yuma held his position a moment longer, swallowing with ease given Vector’s rather unexpected taste, before taking a few moments to lightly clean up anything remaining.

Vector’s face completely beet red by that point, his purple eyes meeting Yuma’s steady red gaze. Yuma’s hand moving to lightly brush against Vector’s cheek. Vector returning the gesture, drawing Yuma down into a soft kiss. “Thank you…” He murmured, concern flickering behind his eyes. “But don’t forget about yourself…”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Yuma assured, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Vector smiled softly, his eyes locking onto Yuma’s with a loving tenderness. While, Yuma moved carefully, shifting back into place–lifting one of Vector’s legs gently into the crux of his arm, while resting his other hand softly by Vector’s side.

“You’re safe with me, okay?” Yuma said softly, his voice a gentle murmur against the quiet. “Just let me know if I need to adjust anything.”

It was a familiar promise, one Vector had heard from their previous time–but it still anchored him. And he offered a slight nod, his expression softening with trust, eyes warm and unwavering. “I know…and Yuma…”

Their gazes met and held, as something deeper passed between them. “I love you,” Vector whispered.

A warmth bloomed in Yuma’s chest, steady and overwhelming. A soft smile forming before his voice followed, barely above a breath. “I love you too, Vector.”

For a moment, their eyes lingered on one another–no words, no movement. Just the quiet closeness of two people wrapped in something larger than touch or sound. The kind of silence that felt full, not empty.

Then Vector’s fingers slid slowly along Yuma’s wrists again–however; this time, Yuma shifted his hand to meet Vector’s, their fingers threading together instead with intention. A grounding, intimate hold that spoke of comfort, yes, but also desire–the need to feel each other, not just emotionally, but tangibly. To hold, and be held.

The affection in Vector’s eyes brightened, deepening with something quieter, more vulnerable. His free hand rising, fingertips brushing Yuma’s shoulder, lingering as they traced down the curve of his arm. Just enough to remind himself that Yuma was here. That this wasn’t a dream or a fantasy. That this was real.

Yuma leaned in then, pressing their lips together. It started soft–tender and patient–but quickly deepened into something more. Each kiss lingering a little longer, each movement between them more fluid, more certain. Not a distraction from pain, but a reaffirmation of presence. A reminder that Yuma was here with Vector–that he was loved, and that he was safe.

Then with tender intent Yuma pressed forward with slow and careful ease, sinking into Vector inch by inch–a soft moan escaping both thier lips in quiet unison as Yuma settled into place. Vector’s tight warmth sinking into the skin of Yuma’s member. Just as Yuma’s presence offered the same in return as he filled up Vector, with a throbbing warmth.

A careful rhythm setting in as Yuma began a steady rocking motion as he thrust into Vector. His red eyes intently monitoring every shift, every breath. If Vector so much as tensed, Yuma would stop and adjust without hesitation. But in that moment, with Vector’s fingers tightening in his and his body melting into Yuma’s touch, there was no need to pull away. No need to hold back–this moment belonged to them.

Their eyes locked–gentle, reverent, and full of emotion. A blush creeping up both their faces, mirroring like a quiet secret shared between them. And in that stillness, there was no urgency. Only the soft wonder of being seen–truly seen–and loved in return.

Yuma’s breath caught faintly in his throat. Vector looked so at ease beneath him, a glow in his violet eyes, lit from within. Holding something raw and breathtakingly sincere.

Vector’s hand flexed gently in Yuma’s before his fingers began to trace slow, delicate patterns against Yuma’s skin–like he was trying to memorize the moment through touch alone. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Everything he felt was already written in his eyes.

And Yuma–he couldn’t look away.

His gaze moved slowly, affectionately, taking in every detail of the man beneath him: the soft parting of Vector’s lips as he released a quiet moan, the faint flush blooming across his cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest still quickened from their closeness. But more than anything, it was that look in Vector’s eyes–unwavering, tender, full of love and trust–that held Yuma there.

There was a quiet vulnerability in it, open and unguarded. A silent surrender that said, ‘I’m yours.’ And that truth struck Yuma to his core. That Vector trusted him–completely–to lead them through this shared moment, to protect the fragile space they’d built between passion and gentleness.

It meant everything.

“...Yuma…”

There was a quiet satisfaction in Vector’s voice as he breathed out Yuma’s name–a low, affectionate hum threaded with tenderness. His body surrendering beneath each touch, giving in to the moment, the longing in him deepening with every shared breath.

Vector’s fingers tightened briefly against Yuma’s shoulder, then slowly they began to move–gentle, rhythmic circles, as if soothing the very tension he’d felt there. A soft massage, instinctive and careful, like he wanted to give something back in return. A warmth spreading through his chest, as his breath caught in a quiet, contented sigh. His eyes fluttering closed, toes curling slightly as he arched into the closeness, grounding himself in the safety of Yuma’s touch.

His form wasn’t trembling from pain, but from peace and pure ecstasy. Even before their first time, he’d always felt safe with Yuma–never once doubting that this trust would hold through even their most vulnerable moments. And now, the way Yuma treated him–with such attentiveness and care–left Vector feeling deeply and profoundly cherished.

The small adjustments, the tender care, the way Yuma focused on every sensitive spot–it meant the world to Vector.

Yet, he still struggled to believe this was truly his reality: that these moments with Yuma belonged to him and him alone. That he was the one Yuma gave himself to–fully, openly, without hesitation. And that Yuma, both within and outside of this space between heartbeats and soft breaths, belonged to him just as completely.

Yuma as well found himself lost in his own similar thoughts, a quiet reflection as he watched Vector beneath him. Even though this was their second time together, the reality still felt like a dream. He’d spent so long yearning for this–yearning for Vector–that now that it was actually happening, it almost seemed too good to be true. Like it would all vanish in a moment.

And the fact that everything in the world seemed to be trying to pull them apart didn’t help that. The weight of their past, the prior unspoken feelings, the Shadows of the Barian Emperors, and more recently, Don Thousand. It all pressed down on Yuma, making him wonder what else would try to stand in their way. But as he looked at Vector, at peace beneath him, Yuma knew something for certain: no matter what stood in their way, no matter how impossible it seemed, he would continue to fight for this.

For them.

Yuma’s thoughts began to quiet as the weight of everything else faded, leaving just the two of them back in this moment. It wasn’t just about what they had been through or what was to come–it was about now. And now, he was here with Vector, with the man who held his heart.

Yuma’s momentum was increasing now, driven by a deep, unspoken desperation and longing for their connection–this closeness he knew they both craved. Pushing in deeper, as Vector’s body accepted him–and seemed to almost pull him in without hesitation. Each moan, every time Vector’s voice called his name, spurring him forward, urging him to push just a little further, to explore the limits and push slightly beyond them.

Yuma’s movements growing even more urgent, more deliberate, yet still with that tender care for the man beneath him, responding to his partner’s every need. His red eyes focused intently on Vector, his gaze unwavering as he observed every movement. Ensuring every shift, every soft gasp, was accounted for. Letting each breath, each sound, be woven into the rhythm of their connection–a careful, unspoken dialogue between them. A soft and silent promise as they remained in perfect sync–two hearts racing as one, their bodies entwined and their breaths mingling in the same stolen moments.

The heat between them mounting, as they both seemed to be holding onto the moment, determined to preserve the warmth and the closeness. Neither willing to let go of what they’d built, neither willing to sever the fragile thread of connection between them. The kisses they shared now deepening, urgent now, desperate to hold onto this fleeting sensation–this feeling of being complete, of being together.

The grip of their intertwined fingers tightening with each passing second, as if they feared the moment might slip away. Pushing themselves until they were both utterly spent, the exhaustion from the day and the overwhelming connection between them now evident.

***

Yuma’s form trembled as he sank beside Vector, pulling him close–Yuma’s eyes brimming with tears as the moment faded into another cherished memory.

“Yuma…”

Vector’s voice was soft, moving one arm softly around Yuma, while the other moved instinctively to wipe away the tears on his partner’s face. “...You’re safe,” Vector whispered, his words full of warmth and certainty. “We’re safe.”

Yuma’s red eyes slowly turned toward Vector, a soft warmth blooming in his chest as their lips met. He held onto those words, letting them settle in his heart, but his grip around Vector did not loosen.

“I know… I just…” He began, his voice quiet as he moved his free hand to rest gently over Vector’s. “I…love you so much, Vector.”

Vector’s violet eyes lit up, that same awe-inspired sparkle of happiness returning in full. Yuma finding himself transfixed–unable to look away–as he took in the expression of the man he loved so deeply. Just that look, that joy in Vector’s face, was enough to quiet the lingering worry in his own heart.

“I love you too, Yuma,” Vector whispered, his voice steady with affection as he wiped away the last of Yuma’s tears. “...More than anything.”

Yuma could feel his own heart fluttering now. He offered one final kiss–soft and full of quiet affection–before letting himself relax. Drawing the covers around them, his arms naturally wrapping around Vector’s frame as they settled in.

In return, Vector’s arms encircled him just as easily, holding him close. Yuma nuzzling into the warmth of his chest, their breaths falling into a shared, gentle rhythm.

There was no need for words now. Just the soft sound of their breathing, the dim hum of the ship, and the gentle flicker of portal light through the window.

Everything felt still.

Safe.

Yuma exhaled slowly, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet. “...Stay with me…”

Vector’s fingers gently threaded through Yuma’s long hair. “...I will. Always.”

And in that small room–warm, quiet, and finally still–the weight of everything they had endured melted away. Entwined in each other’s arms, two hearts finally at peace, no longer forced to face the shadows or the darkness that once threatened to divide them.

Now, together, they could step into the astral light.

Chapter Text

The soft hum of the Barian portal slowly died away as it vanished as quickly as it had flared to life–leaving two figures standing outside the familiar setting of the Tsukumo residence. Night had already draped itself across the sky, and the warm glow spilling through the windows cast a gentle outline around the edges of the house.

Despite the rest they’d managed aboard the ship during the journey back, a weariness still clung to both of them. Not just fatigue of the body, but something deeper–the kind that settled into the bones after too many near-deaths and too many close calls.

Yuma leaned back against Vector, letting the other’s warmth soak through the fabric of his jacket. It was grounding. Real. And his fingers couldn’t help but brush lightly over Vector’s–where it rested at his side, the Barian’s arm wrapped securely around his waist. The grip tightening ever so slightly–silent reassurance that they’d made it. That it was over. For now.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in quiet stillness as the cool night air drifted around them–neither speaking, as they remained simply grounded in one another’s presence. Eventually, Yuma exhaled softly and shifted, just enough to signal he was ready. The two approaching the front steps slowly, neither in any rush. Though as they reached the door, Yuma paused just long enough to glance back at Vector. No words were exchanged, but the slight nod between them spoke volumes.

Then he twisted the handle and stepped inside.

Warmth greeted them like an old friend–the familiar wood floors underfoot, the comforting scent of something spiced and simmering still lingering from the kitchen despite the hour. While it was late–well past the usual dinner time–the smell made it clear someone had been waiting. And as the door clicked softly shut behind them, a feeling of security and safety washed over them.

They were home.

Red eyes met violet in the low light of the hallway, and for a moment, small smiles began to form. Coming from nothing more than shared relief. But before either could speak, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the next room.

“Yuma!”

Akari’s voice was tight with emotion, her expression shifting from tense worry to palpable relief the instant she saw him. Her purple eyes locking onto her brother, and without hesitation, she rushed forward.

Yuma barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close in a hug that was both fierce and trembling.

“You’re late,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Vector took a quiet step back, giving the two their space. All the while watching with a faint smile, something soft in his expression as his gaze lingered on the siblings–touched with his own relief for being able to keep his promise to Akari of returning with Yuma.

“I’m sorry…” Yuma responded slowly, arms tightening around her.

Akari held him a moment longer before pulling back, her hands gripping his shoulders as if to make sure he was really standing there. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Yuma glanced to the side, where Vector stood silently behind him, and nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

Akari followed his gaze and her expression shifted–eyes narrowing just slightly as she took in Ray’s presence. And then she stepped to the side, drawing both Yuma and Ray into an embrace this time.

Vector stood frozen for a moment, wide-eyed in shock at the unexpected warmth. Then, slowly, he returned the gesture. The three standing like that–quiet and held together for just a while longer, before Akari finally stepped back.

“Thank you, Ray. For keeping your promise,” Akari said softly, her eyes meeting his with quiet sincerity.

For a moment, Vector just stared at her. He’d heard her say his persona’s name a thousand times over in the past five years–never with malice, never cold–but this felt different. Not cautious support, nor quiet understanding.

No, this was trust. Open and unguarded–the same trust Akari had shown when she put her faith in him to rescue Yuma, and for both of them to return home.

“I said I would,” he murmured, voice low. But the words felt small compared to what her gaze held.

And something in his chest twisted–warm, tight and unfamiliar. The feeling compelling Vector in turn to look away.

He wasn’t sure he deserved this. Even as the others tried to assure him, he did… And his hand moved instinctively to his Duel Case–where Rank-Up-Magic The Seventh One now resided. A reminder and proof of Nasch’s–of Shark’s reassurance of Vector’s place and belief in him.

Yet…this compassion. It was still hard to believe. And even if he accepted it, he wasn’t sure when it would start feeling right–when it would start feeling like he truly deserved it.

Yuma’s red eyes had shifted to Vector, quietly tracking his every subtle movement–especially the way his hand hovered near the Duel Case. And without hesitation, Yuma reached out, fingers brushing lightly against Vector’s hand before gently taking it in his own.

Leaning in to press a soft kiss to Vector’s cheek.

“This is where you belong, Vector,” Yuma said, his voice low but sure–like he could read the doubts without needing to hear them. “This is where you’ve always belonged.”

Vector’s violet eyes met his, and for a moment, he let himself breathe in the comfort of that touch–the grounding warmth of Yuma’s hand in his own. It was real. As real as the love they’d fought for and shared. A love he’d promised again and again to never take for granted–and one he wouldn’t. But it still felt like a dream he could wake from at any moment. And that was what terrified Vector the most.

“My brother’s right,” Akari’s voice came, gently cutting through the stillness with a soft fondness. “This is your home now too–and we’re your family, through the extension of your relationship with Yuma. And as such–and also because I promised, your place is set too–so why don’t you both come eat? You’ve kept us waiting long enough for dinner.”

“Aw yeah! We made it time for dinner!” Yuma exclaimed brightly, moving his unoccupied hand to rest behind his head. “I’m starving!”

“When are you not?” Akari responded, a lightness returning to the air with her teasing as she led the pair into the other room.

The scent of simmering spices growing stronger as they entered the room, where the dining table was already set for four–clearly expecting the two late arrivals. And at its center sat a still-warm pot of curry, the thick, golden-brown sauce bubbling quietly as if it had been stirred just moments ago. Beside it, bowls of freshly steamed rice were waiting patiently, their lids slightly askew from the rising steam.

Yuma’s grandmother, Haru was already looking over as she began to pour out some drinks for the table. A bright and gentle smile crossing her lips, “Welcome, home–Yuma, Ray…or did I hear from the hall that you are going as Vector now?” She questioned thoughtfully.

Vector hesitated before offering a small smile of his own. “Either is fine,” he responded.

“But which do you prefer?” Haru softly prodded, catching Vector further off guard and uncertain how to answer.

Yuma’s red eyes lingered on his partner for a moment, remembering their quiet words on the ship during their intimate moment…remembering his silent vow to create happier memories in association with his love’s true name, Vector. And that was exactly what he intended to do–to erase any doubts that Yuma only loved the ideal of Vector being ‘Ray’–and not the other way around. And with a slight breathe he spoke up. “He’s going by Vector now–he’s not going to be able to hide behind Ray now to pass off ‘his’ deeds!”

A bit of blush surfaced on Vector’s face at the words, meeting Yuma’s fixed gaze on him before he nodded slowly in understanding.

“It’s nice that you finally want to give ‘yourself’ credit for all the happiness and good you’ve brought into Yuma’s life–Vector it is then,” Haru responded, holding her soft smile.

Vector’s blush deepened, his eyes dropping just in time to catch Yuma’s fingers intertwining with his own again. A soft squeeze of reassurance following as Vector took a moment in his silence to gaze between Haru, Akari and Yuma.

“You should’ve corrected me in the hall,” Akari said. There was no harshness in her voice–if anything, it carried a teasing warmth.

Vector rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry–I didn’t want to impose.”

“Well, you should impose!” Akari said firmly.

“Ah–r-right! I’m sorry!” Vector stammered, before leaning towards Yuma with a low mutter. “Your sister’s kinda scary…”

“You have no idea, you’re lucky you’re a new addition to the family–” Yuma tried to begin.

“HEY! I heard that, Yuma!” Akari cut in.

“Ah!?! I’m innocent, I swear!” Yuma exclaimed in panic.

Haru’s voice came in gently, settling the air again back on the previous subject as she set the final cup down. Her eyes lingering softly on Vector. “Whatever name you use,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re here. That’s what matters.”

The words returned a soft smile to Vector’s lips in appreciation, a lighter tone settling in the air as they finally all took their places around the table. The faint clatter of bowls and utensils filling the quiet as they served themselves, the steam rising from the curry pot carrying warmth and spice into the room. For a while, no one said anything–too busy eating, or perhaps too content to break the peace. Simply enjoying the quiet miracle of existing within the presence of comfort and belonging.

But in time, light conversation began to fill the air, allowing a sense of normalcy to take hold at last. The weight left in the wake of the Shadows of the Barian Emperors, Don Thousand’s emergence, Yuma’s possession at the hands of the Barian Deity, and Vector’s own reckless actions to save him–all of it beginning to fade into memory.

And even with the looming threat of Number 96 still out there...tonight, there was peace–and a chance to catch up.

Haru took a sip from her tea, then asked gently, “Did your other friends make it home safely?”

Yuma nodded. “Yeah. They’re probably settling in with their own families for the night.”

“How lovely–” Haru began, but Akari cut in sharply.

“On that note–next time Kite and Mizar show up here, you two better be present,” she said, leveling her chopsticks at Yuma like a weapon. “Or else.”

Yuma immediately tensed. “W-We’ll be good! I swear!”

“You’d better be,” Akari huffed, slumping a bit. “At this rate, I’m not going to be able to let either of you leave the house.”

“Now, now,” Haru said calmly, gently setting her cup down. “They made it home safely, and they’ve promised to be more careful. Let’s have a little faith that this time, there won’t be any more unexpected outcomes.”

She gave them both a look that was just firm enough to count, before her eyes softened. “Speaking of…how did that little love letter turn out for Kite and Mizar?”

“We actually don’t know yet,” Vector replied with a sheepish smile. “But… I think it’s safe to say they’re taking the right steps.”

“Yeah! They got their own version of ZEXAL now too, so we can’t fall behind!” Yuma added brightly. “And–they were holding hands!”

Haru chuckled softly. “Then little Hart must be overjoyed not to worry about his brother anymore.”

“Wish I didn’t have to worry about my idiot brother,” Akari muttered under her breath.

“Hey! I said I’d be more careful!” Yuma protested, turning toward her.

Akari didn’t even look up as she shot back dryly, “Yuma, you are the farthest thing from careful…”

Their playful bickering filled the air for a moment–light, familiar, and oddly comforting.

Haru watched them fondly, her expression softening as she turned to Vector. “It’s so nice to have the house so full of life again,” she said quietly.

Vector’s smile faded into something more subdued, and he gave a small nod. “...I just hope these moments last longer than…”

He didn’t finish. The words stuck, too heavy. Because even now, the memory lingered–how he and Yuma had only just reunited after his recovery in the Barian World…and the fact that they’d barely shared two full days before Don Thousand tore everything apart again. And now, with Number 96 still lurking in the dark–

“They will,” Haru said gently, interrupting the spiral before it could take hold. “As long as you two stand by one another, everything will be alright.”

“And we will!” Yuma chimed in brightly, bouncing right back into the conversation as if summoned. “We’re a team now–in more ways than before!”

Yuma’s voice lingered in the air–bright, certain. And for a while, that energy carried through the rest of the meal, the conversation drifting into lighter themes and stories. But eventually, the plates were cleared, the laughter faded, and the late hour could no longer be ignored.

Haru gently sent Yuma and Vector off to bed, brushing off Vector’s polite attempt to help with the dishes. As she insisted their well-being came first after everything they’d been through–and that they’d more than earned some peace and rest.

And so, after washing up and changing into clothes more suited for sleep, the pair quietly settled into Yuma’s room. The soft rustle of sheets filled the space as they climbed into bed, slipping easily into the spots they’d both grown used too. Arms finding each other without hesitation, wrapping around one another in a familiar embrace–seeking that shared warmth, that quiet promise of safety.

A few soft kisses were exchanged, tender and unhurried, before Yuma let himself settle–head resting against Vector’s chest, listening for the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A sound he had come to associate with peace.

His eyelids beginning to grow heavy as his body readied itself to surrender to sleep, lulled by the comfort of the moment.

But then–Vector’s voice stirred the quiet.

“Hey... Yuma…”

Yuma shifted slightly, just enough to lift his head and move a hand to Vector’s face, concern flickering in his eyes. His thumb brushed gently across Vector’s cheek. “Is everything okay?” He asked softly.

Vector brought his own hand to Yuma’s face, returning the gesture with equal care. Their eyes meeting and holding in the low light as Vector lightly shook his head. “...It’s nothing bad. It’s just…” He hesitated. “You’re going to go to the Astral World…aren’t you?”

This time, it was Yuma who paused. Vector’s words, though framed as a question, carried something deeper–an understanding that this was an inevitable step forward, given the circumstances.

There had been no real discussion yet on how to handle the looming threat of Number 96–especially with no clue as to where he had disappeared. But the fact remained: Astral needed to know. He had to be warned. Going to Astral World was necessary–and the sooner they left, the better.

Yet the way Vector had phrased it–emphasizing Yuma going–almost sounded like he was assuming he wouldn’t be going at all.

And maybe that’s what troubled Yuma most. Vector wasn’t just his romantic partner but also his partner in Dueling too. After everything they’d been through, the idea of leaving him behind didn’t sit right.

“You’re coming too, aren’t you?”

The question came gently, but not without weight. There was worry in Yuma’s gaze–and he could see the same unease reflected in Vector’s eyes.

“Do you think that’s...okay?” Vector asked, his voice softer now. Uncertainty creeping in alongside the unease.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Yuma said, firm and immediate. “I want you with me. And besides…if Astral World and Barian World are going to keep the peace, it’d help to show there’s real trust between us. Between all of us.”

A small smile formed as Vector continued to watch Yuma, even though part of him still felt like this might be a bad idea.

The war between Barian World and Astral World had ended five years ago–but it was more of a silent peace than a true reconciliation. With all the Barian Emperors reborn as humans, there hadn’t exactly been anyone left to lead...if there were still Barian forces determined to reignite conflict.

Though Vector doubted that was the case–what truly unsettled him more was how little had been said in all that time. No formal discussions. No diplomatic visits. Just the quiet absence of the Emperors.

Five years might not have been enough time to calm a world bred for war. Especially not when Eliphas and Astral had used only words to insist Astral World had ‘nothing to fear.’ Without open dialogue or representation, it wouldn't be surprising if tensions had begun to simmer–on both sides.

In that sense, maybe it would be better to split the party–to make sure things were stable in both worlds.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll be received…” Vector admitted, his voice low. “But if that is your wish–I will stand beside you.”

“Good,” Yuma replied with a sly little smirk, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “I wasn’t exactly going to give you a choice anyway.”

He settled back with a soft laugh. “I wanted to talk with everyone on the subject matter–but I bet Shark and Dumon are already on the same page…”

His voice trailed off as he pressed one last kiss to Vector’s lips before settling back into the space he’d claimed earlier–the one he'd been determined to fall asleep in. His arms tightening slightly around Vector’s waist, a gentle squeeze of affection.

“...So let’s leave the serious talk for tomorrow,” he murmured. “Tonight–I just want it to be about us.”

Vector’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he didn’t argue. His arms wrapped securely around Yuma once more, drawing him close.

There was no guarantee they’d always have moments like this. No promise that the peace would last.

But right now, they did. And that was enough.

Outside the window, the night was still–quiet, calm, and undisturbed. Pale moonlight spilling across the floor in soft streaks, as if the world itself was holding its breath, giving them this moment of rest.

Chapter Text

The scent of sautéed vegetables filled the apartment, soft and savory as it curled through the air–a gentle reminder of the peace they’d fought for, and that, at least for tonight, they could enjoy a moment’s reprieve.

Dumon moved through the kitchen with precise grace, sleeves rolled up, a pan sizzling in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It was the kind of evening that could almost be called normal–if not for the fact that Shark had spent the last twenty minutes scowling at Quattro from across the room like the guy had stolen his favourite monster card.

He leaned against the countertop of lower cabinets, arms crossed, his deep blue eyes staring daggers at Quattro–who was seated far too casually on his sofa. And far too close to Shark’s little sister.

Rio laughing softly at something Quattro whispered in her ear, nudging his shoulder with a playful shove. The easy rhythm between them only making Shark’s eye twitch–especially when he caught Quattro’s smug glance back.

“You know, I don’t remember saying he could be here…” Shark muttered, keeping his arms crossed and his voice low so only Dumon would catch it over the sound of simmering curry.

Dumon didn’t turn, but a faint smile played on his lips. “Your sister invited him. And you agreed to dinner.”

“I agreed to food,” Nasch grumbled. “Not him.”

Dumon set the pan and wooden spoon down, reaching out to gently take Nasch’s hand in his own. “Nasch…try to go easy on him tonight,” he said softly, leaning in to offer a gentle kiss to his cheek–a quiet attempt to ease his partner’s protective edge.

“That’s gonna depend on Quattro,” Nasch replied flatly.

“We gonna have a problem, Reginald?” Quattro asked, smirking as his gaze finally met Shark’s proper.

“We’d better not!” Rio huffed, crossing her arms with a pointed look at both of them.

“We wouldn’t have a problem if your taste in men wasn’t so questionable,” Shark snapped.

“For your information, Reginald,” Rio said sharply. “He treats me just fine!”

“Come now, Reginald… I know we’ve always been rivals, but you were never this hostile before,” Quattro remarked, feigning innocence with a tilt of his head.

“As I said at the restaurant–that was before you started dating my sister!” Shark snapped.

“I wouldn’t take it personally, Quattro…” Dumon added, his voice calm as ever, trying to ease the tension. “I think Nasch would’ve behaved this way with anyone dating Marin.”

Quattro grinned. “Oh, I don’t take it personally. I just consider it part of the ‘brother-in-law’ hazing process.”

“Quit dreaming!” Shark snapped, voice sharp. “Like I’d ever give you my blessing for Rio’s hand!”

“That’s not up to you to decide, Reginald,” Rio replied coolly, arms still crossed. “If it ever happens.”

Shark looked ready to snap back, but Dumon–ever the peacekeeper–softly cleared his throat, stepping in before things could boil over.

“It’s unfortunate our return home hasn’t resolved all loose ends,” he said, gently steering the conversation away from the growing sibling spat.

Everyone’s attention shifted as Dumon continued, his voice calm but serious. “While we’ve hopefully seen the last of Don Thousand, it seems a new force is beginning to stir.”

“I doubt he’ll stay hidden for long…” Nasch muttered, his gaze distant.

Rio’s expression had softened now. “You’re worried about Yuma again, aren’t you?”

“It’s not just him,” Shark replied. “Number 96 poses a threat to both the Astral World and Barian World. The destruction he caused before is a testament to that. And with his history with Yuma, Astral, even Vector–we can’t predict where he’ll strike next. Or who he’ll go after.”

“Though–we might find some comfort in the idea that he may not strike right away,” Dumon offered. “Yuma will likely want to travel to Astral World…to warn Astral.”

“Then ‘we’re’ going with him.”

All eyes turned to Quattro, who had spoken with calm resolve. Shark’s eyes narrowing.

“If anyone’s going, it’s me–” he started.

“No way, Reginald!” Rio cut in sharply, rising from the couch. “Like I told you back on the ship–we’re not being sidelined this time. If someone’s going to Astral World, it’s going to be me and Quattro.”

“Rio, this is dangerous–”

“And I can handle myself just fine! I’m not a child anymore, Reginald!” She snapped. “Besides, you’re the leader of Barian World. Don’t you think it’s your responsibility to make sure things are stable there, too?”

“She has a point,” Dumon added, taking a moment to think matters over. “Dividing our forces may be the wiser course. We need to prepare for Number 96, wherever he may target.”

Shark scoffed, folding his arms tightly. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this.”

Rio raised a brow. “How do you think we felt when you ran off to fight Don Thousand and left us behind?”

“Come on, Reginald…” Quattro chimed in, smug as ever. “She’ll be just fine–after all, she’s traveling with a superior Duelist like me.”

“YOU’RE exactly why I’m worried!” Shark snapped.

Dumon’s hand moved to rest gently on Nasch’s shoulder, a quiet attempt to ease the tension building in his partner. “Let’s have faith in Marin and Quattro,” he said softly. “They’ll be with Yuma and Vector. That makes a solid four–and a strong five once they reunite with Astral.”

Nasch’s deep blue eyes met Dumon’s calm gray ones for a moment. A soft reluctant sigh passing. He’d never say it out loud–but he knew Quattro could probably handle himself. But that wasn’t the point. As admitting that meant accepting the idea that someone else might be capable of protecting Rio. That someone else might take his place.

Shark was her older brother. It had always been his job to look out for her–back in their distant past, during their time as the Barian Emperors…even in the years they spent as Rio and Reginald. That instinct hadn’t changed.

Quattro was just a new piece threatening to shift what had always been. And no matter how many lives they’d lived, no matter how many times he’d failed her, Shark still believed–needed to believe–that no one was more suited to protect his little sister than him…

Shark said nothing more as his thoughts dissolved, but his stance eased, just slightly–under Dumon’s touch.

And sensing the shift, Dumon offered a small, knowing smile before turning back to the stove. The soft clatter of ladles and the low simmer of curry filling the quiet that followed–a comforting rhythm that hummed low beneath the tension still lingering in the air.

No one spoke for now. Instead, the silence stretched gently–not heavy, but thoughtful. A shared breath after uncertain times, finally allowing a soft stillness.

Quattro leaned in, whispering something once more to Rio, causing her to roll her eyes and shove him lightly again. Shark watching, but this time his expression was unreadable, a guarded truce settling over him.

Dumon on the other hand moved with care, plating the meals with practiced ease.

Nasch finally pulling his gaze away from Rio and Quattro to step in without a word to assist, setting the table with an ocean-themed set of chopsticks and cups to match the bowls and plates. When he returned to Dumon’s side, their fingers brushed–brief and deliberate. Dumon didn’t say anything, but his smile lingered even as Nasch relieved him of the plated food to carry back to the table.

And once the last dish was set, Dumon softly announced, “Dinner’s ready, everyone.”

The fragrant array of curry, sautéed vegetables, and warm rice teased the air, each scent weaving into the room like a comforting melody. As the four gathered around the table, and even Shark’s shoulders seemed to loosen.

“Dumon, this smells amazing,” Rio said, picking up her chopsticks. “You’ve seriously been holding out on us.”

“I’ve just had more time to experiment,” Dumon replied modestly, a hint of pride touching his smile.

That very smile deepening as Nasch reached for his hand and their fingers intertwined beneath the table. Their eyes meeting briefly before Nasch spoke. “You don’t need to be modest–you outdo yourself with every meal.”

Dumon’s cheeks flushed slightly as he squeezed Nasch’s, appreciating the sentiment more than he let on.

Quattro leaned in, dramatically inhaling over his plate. “At least I know it’s edible, since Reginald didn’t cook it,” he remarked with a smirk.

“I can duel and cook better than you could, any day,” Shark shot back, the challenge clear in his voice.

Rio rolled her eyes but laughed softly, breaking the tension further.

“And just for that remark, you’re doing the dishes by yourself,” Shark added, smirking.

Rio took a bite, then shrugged. “You say that like you don’t always leave him the dishes when he visits.”

Quattro grinned. “See? Even Rio agrees you treat me unfairly, Reginald.”

“Well, I appreciate you seeing to the dishes,” Dumon said softly.

“Dumon, you’re really too good for Reginald,” Quattro remarked, pausing to seize the chance for a jab. “You should let me set you up with a proper partner sometime.”

Dumon’s grey eyes flickered to Nasch, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of Nasch’s hand before returning his gaze to Quattro, trying to keep the peace. “I assure you, Nasch treats me well.”

Yet, Shark’s other hand was tightening around his chopsticks. “Did I hear that right, Quattro? You don’t think I treat Dumon right?”

Quattro grinned. “I’m just saying–you did make him cook right after getting back.”

Annoyance flickered in Shark’s eyes. “I never asked him to cook. I was fine with ordering in.”

Dumon stepped in smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “I offered, Nasch. I don’t mind cooking if it means knowing everyone’s eating a proper meal.”

Rio jumped in before Shark could answer, lifting her chopsticks. “And it is a proper meal–and amazing,” she said, shooting a glance at both men. “So let’s not be rude and let it get cold.”

Her words hung in the air just long enough to take hold, quieting any comebacks her brother might’ve had. The tension ebbed slightly, replaced by the soft clatter of utensils and the warm aroma of curry still rising from the table.

Conversation returned in a softer current, not quite carefree, but no longer on edge–just four people sharing a moment of normalcy, however brief.

By the time the plates were cleared and the last bites of curry were gone, the apartment had settled into an easy rhythm. The clink of dishes and running water filling the quiet, punctuated by Rio’s soft laughter as she bumped elbows with Quattro at the sink.

Quattro stood reluctantly scrubbing under her watchful eye, while she dried beside him, towel in hand and a soft smile on her face–determined not to let him suffer this fate alone.

“And here I thought I was the guest,” Quattro grumbled, scrubbing a curry-stained bowl with exaggerated effort.

“You were the guest,” Rio replied teasingly, plucking a clean dish from the drying rack and running the towel over it with practiced ease. “Before you made that comment about Reginald’s cooking. Now you’re the designated dishwasher.”

Quattro glanced sideways at her with mock offense. “You wound me.”

A soft giggle passed Rio’s lips as she shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “You’ll survive,” she assured him, smiling again. “Besides–you’re getting quality time with me.”

Quattro smirked, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. Faint blush crossing Rio’s cheeks before she returned the gesture, her giggle lingering as the moment faded. “See? It’s not so bad.”

Quattro’s grin remained as he lightly bumped her shoulder. “I guess not.”

The pair resuming their rhythm–quiet, mismatched, but entirely their own.

From across the room, Dumon watched them for a moment with a soft smile. There was something reassuring in their cadence–imperfect but comfortable, like a melody only they understood.

Then he turned, quietly making his way toward the open balcony door.

Nasch was already there, leaning against the railing, his back to the room. The hum of the city buzzing in the background as neon reflections danced in the windows of the neighbouring buildings.

Dumon didn’t announce his presence. He simply joined him–close, but not crowding–letting the night air settle between them. Only shifting closer when Nasch’s arm moved around him, and in that quiet gesture, Dumon leaned in, allowing himself to rest against him, content in their shared silence.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Dumon said softly, breaking the silence and drawing Nasch’s eyes to his own. “Back on the ship…during the Duel, and even when Number 96 appeared–there was so much uncertainty. But we all came back.”

Nasch slowly shifted, removing his arm and turning to face Dumon. His deep blue eyes meeting Dumon’s grey ones as he withdrew Dumon’s Number Cards from his Deck Case and held them out. “Thank you…for protecting me so we could.”

Dumon smiled gently, reaching out–letting his fingers brush reverently against Nasch’s for a moment before reclaiming his Star Seraph cards and returning them to his deck. “Know that I always will,” he assured softly.

Yet, before he could finish, Nasch had seized his hands tightly–leaning in abruptly to allow their lips to meet in a sudden kiss. Dumon’s eyes flashing with surprise behind his glasses, before they slowly fluttered closed, allowing himself to savor the quiet warmth of the moment.

Dumon pulling back just slightly, to rest his forehead against Nasch’s. Before his hands slowly released Nasch’s–one moving to rest against his cheek, the other wrapping around his partner’s form to hold him close. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he whispered.

Nasch’s eyes darkened with a familiar ache. His arm moving around Dumon, pulling him close–like he needed the contact to prove he was really here. His free hand rising to cover Dumon’s at his cheek. Yet, it took a moment before he could steady his voice. “I don’t want to lose ‘you’ again either.”

A sad smile crossed Dumon’s face as his fingers curled into the fabric of Nasch’s shirt. They both understood the weight of those words–and the memories behind them. Dumon hadn’t been there to witness what happened to Nasch before his soul had assumed the role as Reginald Kastle. But Nasch had been forced to watch Dumon’s death firsthand. And even five years later, Dumon didn’t doubt that memory still left scars.

His thumb gently stroked along Nasch’s cheek, offering quiet reassurance. “You won’t lose me.”

Nasch nodded, drawing strength from the promise in Dumon’s gaze. Before leaning in for a tender kiss. “I’m not going to squander the second chance Yuma and Astral gave us,” Nasch said, their lips just inches apart, his grip tightening protectively around Dumon.

“I know. And we’ll face whatever comes next together,” Dumon agreed.

There was a pause. A quiet thought surfacing, and Nasch pulled back just far enough for their eyes to meet. “...I don’t say it enough,” he muttered.

Dumon smiled faintly, brushing his thumb against Nasch’s cheek again. “You don’t have to.”

“But maybe I want to,” Nasch replied–sharper than he meant to, but sincere.

Dumon blinked, then let out a warm chuckle. “Then say it.”

“I love you, Dumon,” Nasch said, softer than usual–but real.

Dumon’s smile deepened, leaning in to offer another sweet kiss. “I love you too, Nasch.”

They stayed like that for a moment–two souls bound not just by love, but by the hard-fought victories over fate itself. Neither saying anything more–they didn’t need to. Being here, together, was enough. Wrapped in each other’s warmth, there was only quiet…and peace.

And whatever the future held, they would face it side by side.

Chapter Text

The ship no longer hummed with power.

Now docked within the cavernous hull of Heartland City’s northern Research Annex, the vessel rested in a reinforced cradle of steel and sensor arrays. Harsh overhead lights casting stark reflections off its pristine white surfaces, bleaching the once-glowing consoles to cold, lifeless panels. The ambient veins of energy that had once pulsed through the walls like a living system had dimmed to fine, inert lines–scars of past motion rather than signs of present life.

Inside the cockpit, silence reigned. The sleek white consoles, once a blur of diagnostics and readouts, stood dormant. A faint layer of dust–impossible, yet somehow present–seemed to gather in the air, as if the space resented stillness after such velocity.

The viewport now offering no view of warped space, only the steel lattice of the annex’s containment bay: sharp, orderly, and unmistakably Earthbound. The heartbeat of the ship was gone, replaced by the distant hum of research equipment and the occasional hiss of pressurized systems engaging elsewhere in the facility.

And what remained was the shell. But even in this dormant state, the precision of Byron’s alloywork and the grace of Quinton’s design held strong. The cockpit still bore the weight of purpose, even if that purpose had–for now–was paused.

At some point during their travels, Mizar had fallen asleep in the co-pilot’s chair, half-curled into the seat as if the soft hum of the ship had lulled him into this state. One arm hanging loosely over the armrest, while the other was drawn in, fingers curled near his chest. Long strands of blond hair falling elegantly to frame his face.

The low, artificial light from the annex glinting softly off his features–still, unguarded and at peace. There was something about the way he slept that didn’t quite fit the image of the proud Barian. Here, he looked almost human.

The door to the cockpit hissed open.

Footsteps entering–slow and measured, boots against alloy–before pausing. A soft exhale escaping the figure who now stood there: Kite.

His grey-blue eyes landing immediately on the figure in the chair. For a moment, he said nothing, just stood in the doorway, watching. The sight catching him off guard–not because it was unexpected, but because of how rare it was to see Mizar like this. Quiet and vulnerable.

But it was something he was becoming more familiar with, now that the distance between them had finally closed.

Kite crossed the room in silence, every movement deliberate. There was no urgency now–just the weight of returning, and the strange hush that followed.

He stopped in front of the chair, his gaze softening. Crouching slightly to lower himself to Mizar’s level–Kite reached out–his hand hovering briefly before gently brushing a strand of hair away from Mizar’s face. His fingers lightly grazing the Barian’s skin in the process, and he caught the faintest smile forming on Mizar’s lips.

Even in sleep, it appeared as though Mizar recognized Kite’s familiar presence–and the quiet safety that came with it.

Kite adjusted his hand, letting it rest gently against Mizar’s cheek. His thumb drifting to the Barian’s lips, parting them slightly as he leaned in to press a soft kiss there–brief, but filled with all his warmth. And in the next moment he was drawing back slowly, speaking softly with quiet affection. “Hey…we’re back.”

Mizar stirred faintly, a crease forming between his brows. His eyes didn’t open–yet–but his fingers twitched before his hand reached out toward Kite.

Kite smiled–just a small one as he took Mizar’s hand in his. “I promise you, a bed will be a lot more comfortable,” he added, teasing.

Mizar’s grip tightened slightly around Kite’s hand as blue eyes finally flickered open to meet the grey-blue ones staring down at him.

“...Kite…?” Mizar’s voice came, still half asleep–quiet and unguarded.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” Kite replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.

The teasing remark made Mizar’s face flush slightly as his senses began to return and some semblance of clarity settled over him. “...I didn’t mean to fall asl–”

Kite didn’t let him finish as he gently moved a finger to press against Mizar’s lips, silencing him with a light touch.

“You think I’m going to scold you for it?” He asked, his voice soft. “It’s okay to rest, Mizar. You’re allowed to.”

Mizar glanced down, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly in a half-smile. “Even so…”

“It’s fine,” Kite assured, cutting him off again–but this time with an added warmth. “Orbital 7’s performance was…subpar compared to yours–but we made it back safely.”

The faintest flicker of amusement passed over Mizar’s expression in response. Kite’s thumb gently stroking the back of Mizar’s hand as he continued holding it. “Besides, you went through a lot. I figured you could use the rest.”

There was a brief pause, as Mizar’s fingers tightened around Kite’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, voice quiet–but sincere.

“Now,” Kite said with only a slight pause. “How about that bed?” His voice was light, but there was a hint of concern behind it.

Mizar’s lips twitched at the suggestion, his eyes still sparkling with amusement–but there was still a softness to him, a quiet vulnerability beneath the surface. “...It does sound just a little enticing…” He teased lightly, but there was a faint edge of hesitation in his voice.

“Only a little?” Kite questioned, tilting his head with a playful glint in his eyes. “And if I was there?”

Mizar’s smirk grew, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes–not completely. “Slightly more enticing,” he replied, his tone just a little more guarded now. The smirk faded quickly, replaced with a flicker of something else, something softer.

He didn’t let go of Kite’s hand–but his other hand hesitated as it moved. It was strange to him, the soft and tender act of touching someone in this way. His fingers hovered near Kite’s neck for a long moment, unsure, as though the simple gesture might suddenly turn into something he couldn’t undo. The Barian’s mind racing, caught between the discomfort of the unfamiliar and the warmth of something that felt…right.

Yet, slowly his fingers made contact, a brief, hesitant touch that he almost pulled back from. But Kite didn’t recoil. There was no judgment in his gaze, only patience.

Mizar’s hand lingered at Kite’s neck, pulling him closer with a tentative, but steady motion. His lips brushing against Kite’s, still unfamiliar, still awkward. The touch reamining soft and hesitant–like he was still learning how to navigate this kind of intimacy. But the warmth between them was undeniable, and Mizar didn’t draw back. Instead choosing to secure his grip around Kite’s hand as it helped to ground him.

And though the kiss ended almost as soon as it began, but Mizar didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his gaze locked on Kite, wide-eyed. It was as if he were searching for something–some sign that this connection, this tenderness, wasn’t a weakness. That it wasn’t something to fear. A silent question hanging between them and one Mizar didn’t voice. Instead, he simply held on, his fingers tightening once more around Kite’s.

Kite didn’t say anything at first. He just smiled, the warmth in his expression soft and patient, brushing his thumb over the back of Mizar’s hand again. “It’s okay,” he murmured gently, as though reading the unspoken doubts in Mizar’s eyes. “You don’t have to rush.”

Mizar’s breath hitched ever so slightly, the weight of Kite’s words sinking in. There was no pressure in his voice–only soft reassurance. The kind of warmth Mizar wasn’t entirely used to.

The Barian Emperor hesitated, his gaze flickering downward for a moment, before slowly he moved his hand to Kite’s side, his fingers brushing across the fabric of Kite’s shirt. There was no suddenness to it; it was a familiar movement by now, but still, it felt different–more deliberate. This was no longer just about comforting each other, but about becoming more comfortable with their shared space–as well as the shared connection between them.

Kite, sensing the change, gave Mizar’s hand a gentle squeeze, his smile widening slightly. Inside, he felt that familiar pull–that unrelenting desire to bridge the gap between them, to push forward into something more. He wanted more, he always did. But he also knew better. This wasn’t just about moving forward–it was about moving together. And his patience wasn’t born of obligation; it was something he offered freely, because he understood Mizar’s journey. And the last thing he wanted was to rush him.

The struggle was subtle, but it was there. Kite’s fingers lingering on Mizar’s hand, just a second too long, his breath stuttering ever so slightly in the silence. Yet, his gaze softened, and he kept his words gentle, like a balm to the unspoken tension. “Take your time,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mizar slowly leaned in more, his fingers flexing a little before coiling tighter into the fabric of Kite’s shirt. Strands of long blond hair settling into place as the Barian buried his face into Kite’s shoulder, breathing in the soft scent of him. His chest rising and falling with steady and calming breaths. There was something grounding about the silence that filled the space between them–a silence that didn’t feel empty, but full.

“Kite…” Mizar’s voice broke through the quiet, barely above a whisper. “I... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand me, when I’m with you.”

Kite slowly adjusted, moving his arms around Mizar to draw him closer into a tight embrace. The motion was natural, as if he were already used to holding Mizar in this way, the comfort between them now almost instinctual.

“You don’t have to understand everything,” Kite murmured softly, his voice warm, steady. “You just have to know that I’m here for you. And I always will be.”

Mizar’s hidden gaze softened at the words, his body relaxing just slightly in Kite’s hold. And without a word, his arms wrapped tightly around Kite in return, holding him close with a quiet, unspoken trust.

There was a long pause as neither of them spoke, the pair existing in the stillness. But Kite felt the weight of the moment settle between them, the quiet softness that spoke volumes. And he could feel the exhaustion radiating from Mizar, the way the Barian’s body was becoming slower to respond–as if it was only now that he was allowing himself to fully relax.

“Mizar…” Kite spoke again, voice soft but gentle, as if testing the waters. “You’ve had a long day. You should get some rest...in a bed.”

Mizar shifted slightly, pulling his head back just enough to glance at Kite, though the tiredness in his eyes was undeniable. There was still that faint hesitation in his gaze, the lingering uncertainty about allowing himself to relax completely. But Kite’s expression remained patient, calm. Even as Mizar didn’t respond, his blue eyes flickered down for a moment, unsure. The vulnerability still lingering–a barrier he was trying to work through.

“...Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn,” Kite teased, a small smirk forming on his lips as he leaned in a little closer. “I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Before Mizar could react, Kite’s arms slid easily around him, lifting him up effortlessly in a fluid motion.

“K-Kite!” Mizar blinked in surprise, his hands instinctively reaching to grab onto Kite’s shoulders. The words coming out half in protest, half in disbelief–his pride still trying to catch up with the sudden change.

But Kite’s smile only widened, adjusting Mizar’s weight in his arms as if it were nothing. “I’m not going to let you fall asleep on the chair again,” he said, his voice light but firm. “You’re exhausted, and you’re going to rest somewhere more fitting.”

Mizar huffed but didn’t resist, his body melting slightly into Kite’s arms as the warmth of the embrace settled over him. For all his pride, he couldn’t argue with the truth. And he simply allowed his eyes to flutter shut, the comforting sensation of being held finally winning over his stubbornness. His own arms adjusting now to rest around Kite’s neck as he nestled his head against his chest.

“I’ll carry you,” Kite murmured, his smirk softening into a gentle smile. “You can relax around me. I’ve got you.”

The Barian Emperor couldn’t help but nuzzle in slightly against Kite at his words. A small smile emerging on his lips. “...What will the others think?” Mizar asked quietly.

“They won’t see anything. They’ve already headed home. I sent my father, Hart and Orbital 7 ahead too–so they wouldn’t have to wait on you,” Kite teased, his tone light and affectionate.

“Then we are truly all set for our own departure,” Mizar acknowledged, his voice steady.

Yet, his thoughts drifted briefly, a flicker of concern crossing his mind. He knew Kite had to be exhausted from the day too, yet here he was, determined to carry Mizar wherever he wished. And while the gesture was nothing short of sweet, Mizar couldn’t help but feel the urge to take matters into his own hands.

With a small shift in his posture, Mizar’s hand moved slowly to open a Barian Portal. His fingers tracing the air, the familiar glow of swirling energy forming around them as the cockpit’s sterile, mechanical walls began to dissolve. In its place, the comforting familiarities of Kite’s room took shape.

The Portal closing with a soft hum at their arrival, leaving the two of them standing in the quiet, calm of Kite’s personal space. Mizar, still in Kite’s arms, lifting his head just slightly as his blue eyes narrowed in a way that spoke of both satisfaction and a hint of mischief.

“There,” Mizar said, his voice tinged with quiet pride, though he didn’t move to break free from Kite’s embrace just yet. “We’re here. And I can assure you, you won’t have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“That’s not entirely true, Mizar,” Kite corrected, his tone still light but with a small smirk. “There’s still a few steps to the bed.”

“Surely, you can manage that without my aid,” Mizar teased softly, though there was a trace of affection in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide.

“I suppose I can,” Kite responded, his arms tightening slightly as he moved with purpose, gently setting Mizar down on the bed.

He took his time, carefully helping both himself and Mizar get ready for bed. The soft rustle of sheets soon filling the quiet as Kite adjusted Mizar’s position, ensuring the blankets settled comfortably around him. Once Mizar was settled, Kite slipped in beside him, drawing him close again with a softness that spoke of trust and warmth.

Mizar’s head slowly sinking against Kite’s chest, his blue eyes momentarily catching the soft reflection of the neon lights on the empty vial on the bedside table. The vial, a quiet relic of a time that felt long passed, reminding Mizar of the tag Duel he and Kite had shared against his Shadow.

It was strange, thinking back to a time when things had felt so different. The rivalry, the resentment… Now, those feelings seemed so distant, as if they belonged to another lifetime or another person entirely. Mizar recalling how annoyed he had been when Kite stepped into his Duel, and yet just today, he had felt a sense of camaraderie fighting beside him in their awakened state of ZEXAL Morph: G. It was as if the distance between them had been shrinking over time–with each passing moment, and now they had become something more.

“...I can’t believe you’re still holding onto the vial,” Mizar remarked quietly, shifting slightly to rest more comfortably against Kite. “...So sentimental.”

Kite chuckled softly, brushing a hand over Mizar’s back, tracing soft patterns with his fingers. “And you’re not? The last time we were here, you brought that for me.”

Mizar’s lips twitched in a faint smile, his eyes remaining closed as he let the warmth of their moment wash over him. Choosing to soften his teasing just a little, as his voice came barely above a whisper. “I do recall telling you, ‘I didn’t make it sentimental.’”

Kite laughed again, a low and warm sound. “I’m not entirely convinced by that, Mizar. We weren’t ‘friends’ back then.”

“Does one need to be friends to have admiration for one’s rival?” Mizar replied, his voice still quiet but thoughtful. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes opening to meet Kite’s gaze, their faces only inches apart. “We were not friends–and yet now we are more...”

“Guess that’s true,” Kite replied, his hand finding a place on Mizar’s cheek. He tilted his head slightly, drawing Mizar close, their faces just inches apart. And with a soft, gentle motion, he kissed Mizar, the warmth of it echoing the tender space between them.

Mizar’s eyes fluttered closed, responding in kind, still exploring this new reality. He had never known anything like it, yet he was starting to understand the quiet comfort it could bring. When the kiss broke, Mizar’s head sank back onto Kite’s chest, a soft sigh escaping him as the sound of Kite’s heartbeat filled the silence.

“...Then it only seems fitting that it should come full circle here,” the Barian acknowledged, his voice a mix of reflection and acceptance, a hint of that old teasing still present.

Some kind of soft understanding settled between the two Galaxy-Eyes Masters. Each finding comfort in the warmth of the other’s embrace. And as they drifted off to sleep, Mizar realized that this was just the beginning of something neither of them could fully understand–but maybe that uncertainty was okay… Because, together, they would face it.

Chapter Text

In gentle embrace did they find peace, and thus in gentle embrace did they wake. The comforting rays of the early morning sun sinking through the partially opened window, casting soft golden streaks across the walls and bed. A light breeze drifting lazily into the room, stirring the curtains like a breath, and carrying with it the scent of the still-sleeping world.

Yuma stirred first, his body shifting as consciousness began to return in small pieces–each one fragile, as though too sudden of a movement might shatter the illusion. His left hand flexing on instinct as fingers brushed against soft cotton before curling inward, gripping the warmth he found there.

He didn’t want to let go. Not yet. Not after everything.

Even now, with the nightmare behind them, a thread of unease still curled around his heart–whispering of what ifs. What if this wasn’t real? What if he opened his eyes and found himself alone? What if Vector had never–

And yet, as Yuma’s red eyes slowly opened, they found Vector.

The soft rise and fall of his chest, the steady heartbeat beneath Yuma’s ear–both were a comfort and reassurance. And while he would have been content to remain right there, arms wrapped around the form of the man he loved, Yuma slowly shifted. Carefully pushing himself up on one elbow as his eyes scanned Vector’s sleeping expression as if committing every detail to memory. The way his face looked so calm and unguarded in sleep–resting in a state of peace. And Yuma’s hand moved of its own accord, resting gently against Vector’s cheek, his thumb brushing along the soft curve of his cheekbone.

“You’re still here…” Yuma whispered, the words meant only for himself.

Before taking the next moment to lean down, lips pressing a light, reverent kiss to Vector’s forehead–a silent thank you to the universe, to fate, or to whatever had allowed this moment to exist.

Vector stirring at the touch. Not all at once–but slowly, his brow twitching faintly before his eyes fluttered open. For a breath, his gaze remained unfocused, caught somewhere between dream and waking. But then violet eyes met red–and a sleepy smile tugged at the corner of Vector’s lips. “Good morning, Yuma…” He murmured, his voice gentle and warm despite the sleep that still clung to it.

Yuma’s smile only grew in return as he leaned his forehead gently against Vector’s. “Good morning,” he replied, his own voice soft and full of affection.

A soft moment passed between them–eyes half-lidded, breathing in quiet synchronization, and the world outside fading in favor of the one they held between them.

“For a moment… I was worried I’d wake up alone again,” Vector admitted after a pause, his voice quieter now–honest in a way that only vulnerability allowed, the weight of recent days still lingering.

Yuma’s hand moved instinctively, reaching out to take Vector’s and offering a gentle, grounding squeeze. “Not going to happen,” he said, with quiet certainty.

He brought Vector’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Vector exhaled a breath that sounded too close to relief, his fingers lacing naturally with Yuma’s as a faint blush bloomed across his face. The silence stretching again–but it wasn’t empty. It was full of warmth, of trust, and of the love they shared. A quiet reassurance that they were safe–and more importantly, that they were together.

And that was what mattered most–their eyes remaining locked lovingly on one another in silent acknowledgment of the significance they held in each other’s hearts and lives. The moment deepening as Yuma leaned closer, allowing their lips to meet in a brief but meaningful kiss. Red eyes meeting violet ones almost shyly, despite how deeply their bond had already grown through all they had shared.

Vector lifted his free hand, gently resting it against the back of Yuma’s head to draw him back in. Their other hands remaining tightly laced together, fingers interwoven like a promise. He offered Yuma’s hand a soft squeeze, the fingers of his other hand brushing slowly through long black strands of hair.

“I love you, Yuma…” Vector said softly, their lips barely apart as the words passed between them.

“I love you too, Vector,” Yuma whispered back.

The warmth blooming in Yuma’s heart radiated outward, reaching for Vector like sunlight rising over a horizon. And he leaned in again, intending to steal another kiss–this one softer, slower…

Their bodies shifting naturally, Yuma’s leg slipping between Vector’s as he moved closer, one arm loosely draping around his neck. Vector’s own hand in turn sliding down through long black strands of hair, coming to rest against Yuma’s back, to gently cradle him against his chest. The blankets slipping partway down with their movement, baring shoulders and collarbones to the golden morning light.

Yet as their lips were just about to meet–

Obnoxious footsteps thundered up the stairs, and the door was suddenly flung open.

“YUMA, GET UP!!”

A voice rang out–loud, familiar, and wildly out of place in the intimacy of the moment.

Red eyes flying open in alarm. “A-Alito!?”

Sure enough, standing in the doorway was the dark brown-haired Barian, looking as unapologetic as ever. And just behind him, two more figures appeared–Akari and Kotori, both clearly out of breath from trying to keep up.

“I told you to let me check on him–my brother only just got back!” Akari scolded, arms crossed. “And there’s also this little thing called privacy...?”

That word seemed to freeze the room. All three sets of eyes locking onto the same thing: the closeness of Yuma and Vector, still tangled up in bed. A beat of silence passing–and then Yuma’s face turned a shade of red previously thought impossible, just as Kotori spun around in embarrassment.

“W-WAH?! We weren’t doing anything!” Yuma blurted, scrambling upright with no small amount of fluster–though not without a hint of reluctance. “S-So, uh...? What’s the situation?!”

“It’s big!” Alito exclaimed dramatically.

“It is not!” Kotori snapped, regaining some of her composure. “Yuma, we came because the others sent a group message about meeting up for breakfast–and you didn’t reply.”

“Ahhh...? My bad…” Yuma muttered, still visibly mortified.

“I told Alito we could afford to wait a bit downstairs–” Kotori began.

“Come on, Tori,” Alito cut in. “If we waited downstairs, we’d be waiting all day for these two.”

“And barging in on them was your brilliant solution?!” Kotori huffed in outrage.

“I already said we weren’t doing anything!” Yuma protested helplessly.

The bed shifted slightly as Vector sat up, moving just a little closer to Yuma. “Not yet… at least,” he whispered, softly for only Yuma to hear–before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Yuma turning crimson all over again. “You’re not helping!!”

Akari sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was exactly the kind of situation she’d hoped to avoid. Her brother was growing up, after all–he wasn’t the clueless boy who was oblivious to love or…urges. It was why Akari had wanted to respect him as the young adult he was now by simply knocking, and not barging in like Alito.

But since things clearly hadn’t gone that way, the least she could do was try to save him from any further embarrassment. “Look, Yuma–I’m taking your friends downstairs to wait,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “Just…don’t keep them waiting, alright?”

Akari didn’t wait for a response as she cast a pointed look toward Alito. The Barian merely shrugged before retreating into the hallway. Kotori and Akari following after him, the latter pausing just long enough to close the door behind her.

Within moments, the sound of footsteps faded down the stairs, leaving Yuma and Vector in silence once more.

“Guess that’s our cue…” Yuma muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

A small smile touched Vector’s lips, but behind it lingered something heavier.
Not because he didn’t want to join the others–meeting up had been something they’d briefly discussed the night before. No, the sadness came from a familiar place–worry. The fear that something might happen again. That stepping away from this moment could mean losing it–or worse, that they might not get another one. Not for a while. Maybe not ever.

And Yuma noticed.

Without a word, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Vector, holding him tightly. The response was immediate–Vector’s arms closing around him with equal urgency. And Yuma’s hand rose, gently threading through Vector’s hair.

“I’m here…”

It was all he could offer–those quiet words–because he shared that same fear.

Every time they came close to some kind of peace–whether it was a confession, or simply the attempt to move forward together as a couple–something always seemed to intervene, trying to tear them apart. And Yuma hadn’t forgotten the agony he felt after Vector’s Duel with the Shadow of Marin…not knowing when he’d come back. Not knowing if he’d lost his chance to tell him how he felt. And even after Vector returned, when they finally opened their hearts to each other–Don Thousand had emerged, and Yuma had been taken over. That time leaving Vector to be the one left behind to suffer.

Yet, even now, with their return and reunion, peace wouldn’t likely last. Number 96 was still out there, the new threat he imposed still looming, and leaving the future uncertain.

But Yuma wasn’t going to let fear win.

If the universe didn’t want them together, then fine. He’d fight for it anyway.

He’d already made up his mind: no matter what came next, he would do whatever it took to stay by Vector’s side. To never lose him again.

His grip tightened with that resolve–one hand’s fingers curling into the fabric of Vector’s shirt, while the other shifted gently to rest against Vector’s face. His thumb brushing lightly across his cheek as red eyes locked intently onto violet.

“I won’t give up on us. Not now, not ever,” Yuma said firmly, grounding them in that promise. “You’re worth fighting for.”

The soft reflection in Vector’s eyes said enough–his silence holding all the meaning those words deserved. And Yuma smiled, his usual confidence flickering back to life, a playful spark returning to ease the heaviness between them.

“So you’d better get used to having me around–because you’re gonna be sick of me in no time!” He teased.

The remark drew a quiet laugh from Vector’s lips. “Maybe that was possible once…” Vector replied with a smirk of his own. “But not anymore. I’m afraid I’ve fallen helplessly for the Yuma charm.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” Yuma teased back.

His smile only grew as he caught the light returning to Vector’s features–the soft curve of his smile and the amused twinkle in his eyes. The two sharing a quiet laugh before Vector’s expression shifted, his gaze narrowing conspiratorially.

“You would certainly know,” Vector said slyly.

He paused just long enough to lean in and steal a kiss, Yuma’s face blooming with a warm blush.

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious–especially with how bad you were at lying during the Duel,” Yuma grinned, puffing up slightly. “I knew you couldn’t resist my charm!”

“…Yes, and I certainly won’t be able to–if we stay like this,” Vector replied, gently steering them back on track. “As much as I’d love to get lost in you… Alito, Kotori, and the others are still waiting. And I doubt your sister’s wrath is something we want to test.”

A groan escaped Yuma as he reluctantly pulled back and rose to his feet. “Don’t remind me. I don’t want Mount Kari to erupt…”

Vector chuckled as he moved to rise as well, the smile never leaving his face. “Then we’d best get ready for the day.”

Those words were enough to finally spur action, and the pair easing into their morning routine, falling into rhythm as if it were the most natural thing in the world–despite how new they still were to being a couple.

They moved through the motions together, brushing their teeth, getting dressed–mundane tasks made meaningful simply by doing them side by side. The quiet comfort of presence.

And all the while, Yuma found himself stealing glances toward Vector–just as Vector’s eyes occasionally drifted his way. Yuma watching a few seconds longer than necessary as Vector dressed, the warmth still blooming in his chest. And violet eyes soon flickered towards him with a knowing softness, before Vector approached. Choosing to pick up one of Yuma’s jackets and help him slide into it, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than needed.

“Ready?” He asked softly.

Yuma nodded. “Yeah. Let’s head out before Alito decides to kick the door down.”

Vector chuckled, lowering his hand–though it naturally found Yuma’s as their fingers laced together. The pair stepping out of the room, leaving behind the quiet warmth of Yuma’s space as they moved into the hallway and down the stairs.

The soft creak of each step the only sound between them, a final moment of stillness before the inevitable chaos of their friend group took over.

And sure enough, that chaos wasted no time.

“Finally!” Alito exclaimed, leaping up from the couch. “Everyone’s gonna have eaten by the time we get there!”

“Sorry about that,” Yuma apologized with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t let Alito get to you–he’s just impatient,” Kotori said, rising from her seat on the couch. “The others have a bit more control when it comes to waiting for us before ordering food.”

Alito huffed in mock offense, but Kotori gently kissed his cheek, settling him with a soft smile. As much as she teased him, she genuinely appreciated his enthusiasm–and knew it came from a good place, even if he could be a little brash at times.

“Good. It’d suck to miss breakfast,” Yuma said with a grin.

Kotori laughed lightly. “I doubt you’d make it through the day otherwise.”

Her hand reached out to take Alito’s as the four of them headed for the door–only to be stopped by Akari’s footsteps.

“Yuma, wait…”

There was hesitation in her voice, and Yuma turned back to face his sister. And much like Vector’s earlier worry, this was expected.

“Just tell Grandma to have our dinner ready!” Yuma said cheerfully.

It was an attempt to brush aside the lingering tension from prior events, and to reassure her–as he had Vector–that everything was going to be okay.

“You idiot…” Akari muttered, moving forward. Her arms opened wide, pulling both Yuma and Vector into a warm embrace. “I’ll see you both at dinner, then.”

The two returned the soft gesture before Yuma tried to keep things light. “Geez, Kari, don’t get so emotional! Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Almost instantly, Akari pulled back, and both Vector and Yuma panicked as she snapped, “I wouldn’t be so worked up if you’d come back the last time!”

“I’ll be good–I swear!” Yuma promised, trying to run some damage control.

A sigh escaped Akari before she shook her head. “Alright, dweeb, dinner’s at five.”

Vector offered a slight salute while Yuma nodded. “And you can count on us being there!”

“That better be the case,” Akari warned.

Vector and Yuma exchanged a knowing look, and with the promise to meet again at dinner and one final goodbye, the group of four headed out into the bustling morning. Ready to gather with the others and discuss their strategy for moving forward.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered in through the thin curtains, painting slow-moving streaks of gold across the rumpled bedsheets. Morning creeping softly through Kite’s bedroom window, brushing Mizar’s face with a warmth that didn’t demand anything of him.

At first, he thought he might still be dreaming–the weight of the bed, the softness of the light, and the warmth pressing against him–didn’t feel real. And nothing had ever felt quite like this before.

Mizar blinked once, then again, his senses adjusting to the stillness around him. His eyes opening fully as the familiar blur of Kite’s room came into view, hazy in the early light. Kite’s arm was still wrapped around him, firm and unyielding, holding him close even in sleep–as if some part of him refused to let go. The security of it grounding Mizar, and comforting him in a way he still wasn’t used to. And it felt strange to admit how natural this had begun to feel–lying here, in this unfamiliar quiet, with nothing but their breaths and heartbeats to fill the silence.

His gaze shifted to Kite’s face.

This wasn’t the first time he’d awakened near him. Nor the second. And yet, it still felt…unfamiliar. Odd, perhaps. And yet, not unwelcome.

Cautiously, and almost uncertainly, Mizar’s hand lifted to lightly touch Kite’s face–his fingers trembling slightly with the hesitation of unfamiliar intimacy, and yet determined to explore it. The tips of his fingers brushing against the warmth of Kite’s skin, soft and slow. And he moved as though learning the shape of something delicate, something that might break if held too tightly.

There was no mastery in the gesture, only effort–an attempt to embody the quiet affection expected of two who had stepped into unfamiliar waters. And he’d barely let his hand settle when two sharp vibrations broke the silence, sounding from opposite ends of the bed.

Both Kite’s and Mizar’s devices pulsing with an incoming message, the quiet of the moment giving way to the subtle reminder of the world beyond this room.

Mizar's gaze shifting towards the noise, distracted–but not startled. And as he turned, he felt the shift beneath him: Kite stirring. Slowly, those familiar bluish-grey eyes opening to meet his own.

“Kite…”

Kite didn’t speak immediately. His brows lifting slightly in quiet surprise as he registered the gentle pressure of Mizar’s fingers still resting against his cheek.

A breath passing between them–still soft, still close.

Then, with a half-lidded glance and the faintest tug of a smile, Kite murmured, voice husky with sleep, “...That’s one way to say good morning.”

Mizar paused for a moment. His fingers hesitating where they were, as if unsure whether to withdraw or press close. “It wasn’t meant to be,” he said quietly–uncertain whether it sounded more like an excuse or an apology.

Kite’s hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing over Mizar’s wrist–not to push him away, but to keep him close. “Just like the modified Barian serum wasn’t meant to be sentimental?” He teased.

A flustered look crossed Mizar’s face. The Barian’s mouth opened, clearly ready to retort–but Kite cut him off gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Stilling Mizar in the moment.

When Kite finally pulled back, Mizar simply stared at his rival turned companion, speechless in the wake of something so simple, yet so disarming.

“What I mean is,” Kite said, his voice softer now. “It was a nice greeting. Intentional or not.”

His fingers moved gently, trailing along Mizar’s skin with familiar ease, and yet there was something still reverent in his touch. Kite’s gaze remaining fixed on the man lying beside him–this impossible reality, still settling in his chest. A quiet awe for something he never imagined would be possible to obtain.

He remembered the past all too well. The thoughts that once plagued him: that to share something so soft, so intimate, with Mizar of all people was unthinkable. Mizar’s emotional distance, his stoic pride, the endless friction between them as rivals–it had once carved a chasm so vast, it felt like they were galaxies apart.

And yet…now they shared that galaxy.

Kite could’ve stayed here forever, wrapped in the comfort of this fragile peace–but the second buzz of a notification sounded from the respective nightstands, shattering the stillness. A soft sigh escaping his lips as grey-blue eyes turned back toward Mizar.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmured teasingly.

“And where could I possibly go, with your grip so tight?” Mizar replied, arching a brow, amusement soft in his tone.

“Just making sure,” Kite quipped, smirking faintly.

Reluctantly, his fingers left their quiet exploration of Mizar’s skin, reaching for the nearby device. A few taps bringing up the holographic display, revealing the familiar group chat–and a new message from Dumon:

Dumon: “Greetings, everyone. I was hoping to coordinate a morning meet-up over breakfast. Please respond with availability.”

Mizar, still leaning into Kite, glanced at the message with quiet interest as his partner typed out a quick reply:

Kite: “Mizar and I will be there. Just send the details.”

The screen dimmed as Kite powered the device off, setting it back down with a soft clink. It wasn’t unexpected. After everything that had happened the day before–including the return of Number 96–this was bound to be a debrief and strategy meeting.

And Yuma, no doubt, would want to contact Astral...

That, however, would be easier said than done.

The last successful trip to Astral World had only been possible thanks to the King’s Coins–remnants of Astralite–left behind by Yuma’s father. Without that rare energy source, there was no known way to reopen the pathway. Not without something new. Or something else entirely.

Still… Kite believed there had to be a way.

They knew Earth had hosted portals before–one to Barian World, accessed by Kite’s own father, and another used by Kazuma Tsukumo to reach Astral World. If those sites were still active or ones like them–hidden, dormant, or sealed–then finding them would become the first step forward.

Which meant today would be far from quiet.

Kite’s grip slowly loosened as he sat up, reluctant but resolved. Mizar following the motion instinctively, already interpreting the shift as a call to action. He was on his feet by the time Kite turned to reach for him–to slow... The distance between them had returned, subtle but unmistakable. And instead, Kite rose without a word, letting the moment pass, both of them preparing for the day ahead.

Efficiency had always been a strong suit for the two of them. Within a matter of focused moments, their morning routine was complete. Calm, methodical, wordless in parts–but comfortably so. Each of them retrieving their respective communicators from the nightstands, ready to re-engage with the world outside their quiet moment.

“Any update from Dumon?” Kite asked as he secured the device within his pocket.

Mizar gave a small nod. “He’s already sent the coordinates.”

“Good,” Kite replied. “We’ll head over soon–but I’d like to make a quick detour first.”

That earned a raised brow from Mizar. “And where would that be?” He asked, his curiosity piqued.

Kite didn’t keep him waiting. “A surveillance location. Time to put Orbital-7 to work for the day.”

There was no delay in their departure. The moment Kite shared the destination, Mizar opened a Barian portal without hesitation. The familiar warmth of Kite’s room dissolving in an instant, swallowed by the shifting veil of dimensional energy.

When the portal dissolved, they stood at the center of a surveillance chamber–a circular in design, walls lined with glowing circuitry like veins of light. A suspended platform floating in the middle of the room, with the only conventional access, was via an extended bridge. But the portal had delivered them directly to the central platform, placing them just a few paces from the console.

Kite stepped forward without pause, fingers already moving across the interface. Holographic displays instantly flaring to life, casting the platform in waves of soft light as the system booted up. But their focus was quickly interrupted by the familiar hiss of the door sliding open–and the unmistakable sound of Orbital-7’s wheels clattering against the floor.

“You’re late,” Kite said flatly.

“So-Sorry, Mas-Master Kite!” Orbital-7 cried, flaring his systems in a burst of panicked motion as he zoomed in. “I’ll get st-straight to work!”

Kite let a smirk slip. “I’m only messing with you, Orbital. But see that you do. We’ve got a portal to track down.”

He folded his arms as he continued. “You still have the data from the King’s Coins, right? More importantly–the Astralite signatures they contained?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” Orbital-7 replied with a salute. “Fully stored and backed up in three separate databases!”

“Good. Then start running a scan for any similar energy patterns–”

Kite’s words cut off mid-command, his gaze locking on one of the holographic feeds that had just come online. His breath hitching–only for a second–as he realized what he was seeing.

A video log.

Footage from the tag Duel that now felt like a lifetime ago–the one against Mizar’s shadow. And not just any moment, either. The feed had zeroed in on Mizar, specifically. Slow-motion playback, combat analysis overlays…system-generated focus. Even without turning around, Kite could feel the sharp eyes of the Barian on his back.

He shut the feed in a snap, fingers dancing across the controls with practiced precision–like it had never been open at all. But the silence that followed told him exactly what was coming.

“Do you analyze all our Duels?” Mizar’s voice came from behind him, calm but unmistakably amused.

Kite didn’t flinch–but he felt it. That dry smirk practically radiating off Mizar’s face, even without seeing it. “Yeah,” Kite replied after a beat, trying to play it off, eyes still fixed on the monitor. “I guess I do…”

He didn’t turn around–but he could hear Mizar moving. Footsteps approaching the panel, and fingers now tapping against the controls.

“Hey–don’t we have more important things?” Kite asked, voice lifting with mild protest as he glanced over his shoulder.

But Mizar wasn’t deterred. He was clearly searching through the interface now, curiosity fully engaged. “I’m just surprised how diligent your records are,” he said with casual mockery. “Was that Duel saved for strategic purposes…or sentimental ones?”

Kite gave a sigh that was half a groan. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you still desired to stand beside me,” Mizar replied smoothly, without missing a beat.

A faint smirk was just beginning to curve across the Barian’s lips–when it vanished.

In an instant, his expression dropped, going stone still. The lightness that had colored the air between them dissipated, as if cut down mid-breath. His blue eyes–wide now, unblinking–as they locked onto something behind Kite.

Kite's heart skipped a beat.

“M-Mizar?” He asked, already turning to follow his partner’s gaze towards the monitor.

Another feed had loaded, triggered automatically by the system’s deeper cache. This one was old–five years old. Grainy, static-flickered footage from the Duel on the Moon. A jagged, broken recording given the damage sustained. And yet, the moment it displayed was unmistakable.

The arrival of Number 100: Numeron Dragon, the feed cutting out completely after the card materialized, and Orbital-7 went offline…

But it didn’t matter that it had.

Mizar hadn’t moved.

Not a word. Not a blink. The confident tilt of his shoulders had vanished, his entire frame tense and rigid, like he’d been frozen in time. Kite’s concern spiking almost instantly as he stepped forward quickly, reaching out. His hands finding Mizar’s shoulders, firm but gentle, as he gave them a light squeeze.

“Mizar. Hey,” he said, softly now. “Come back to me.”

Still nothing.

Kite shifted, moving just slightly into Mizar’s line of sight, trying to draw his eyes away from the screen.

“Mizar…we’re not there anymore.”

He kept his voice low, steady–like grounding someone from the edge of a nightmare.

Slowly, Mizar’s lips parted. But no sound came. His eyes finally flickering away from the monitor, unfocused, before settling–hesitantly–on Kite’s face.

And Kite saw it clearly now…the mask was cracking. Whatever had just resurfaced wasn’t anger. It wasn’t embarrassment, or even grief.

It was fear–and sorrow.

Kite froze, startled by the sudden collapse of composure of the man who had once seemed untouchable. Silent, trembling tears had begun to fall down Mizar’s cheeks, leaving faint, glistening trails in their wake. Unrestrained and raw.

It wasn’t like him. And that was what shook Kite most.

Mizar…could feel?

Of course, he could. The thought that he couldn’t was irrational, and Kite knew better–he’d seen the care, the effort, the small but deliberate ways Mizar had been trying to open up. But this–this wasn’t effort, this wasn’t practice, and this wasn’t one of those carefully measured moments of emotional honesty that Mizar had been slowly learning to give.

This was real and unfiltered.

And Kite realized, with a quiet ache in his chest, that this was the first time he’d ever seen Mizar cry.

Even in their most vulnerable moments–through pain, through confession, through the slow-burning intimacy–Mizar had always cut himself off before that. Kept the mask in place. Kept the world at a distance.

But this old memory, this broken echo of the past, had cracked something open.

And Kite hadn’t known. He hadn’t known Mizar had grieved for him like this. Not back then. Not following that moment.

Because he hadn’t been there to see it.

His throat tightened at the thought and without hesitation, Kite stepped closer, his arms moving around the Barian without a word, drawing him in and holding him tightly against his chest.

Mizar didn’t resist. He couldn’t. Almost instantly collapsing into Kite’s embrace, eyes clenched shut, breath trembling as he buried his face into the crook of Kite’s neck.

Kite’s hand coming up slowly in response, fingers threading through long strands of blond hair as he pressed a soft kiss to Mizar’s temple.

“...It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “I’m here.”

His other hand found the small of Mizar’s back, anchoring him. Holding him like the world might shatter if he let go. “I'm here,” Kite repeated, quieter this time. Not as a reassurance–but a promise.

Mizar’s voice cracked before the words even formed. “I’m sorry...”

His voice catching Kite offguard as he blinked, his hold tightening slightly. “Mizar–”

“I knew you were reaching your limits. I knew, and I still… I kept pushing. Like it was just another Duel–like there weren’t risks to dueling in space... Like it was just another rivalry.”

Mizar exhaled sharply, shoulders trembling, his face burying against the warmth of Kite. “I thought I had time to figure it out. To figure us out…but then I lost you. And all I could think was–if I hadn’t–if I had just held back–”

Kite shook his head, quiet but firm. “That’s not on you.”

But Mizar didn’t seem to hear him. His voice was barely more than a breath. “...Even when Yuma and Astral brought all of us back… I kept my distance because I didn’t know how to be near you without seeing that moment every time I looked at you…”

Kite said nothing. He only adjusted his grip–an anchor in the storm of Mizar’s guilt. His hand slowly and deliberately continuing to brush through Mizar’s hair in a quiet act of comfort, trying to ground the other man against him.

Mizar trembled more with each word, the weight of five years finally spilling loose. “And…when we were forced to come face to face after all those years–when my shadow appeared… I convinced myself we were still rivals because that was the only way I knew how to feel safe again.”

Kite’s breath caught in his throat. Mizar finally looking up to meet his gaze–eyes raw, unguarded, and still full of fresh tears. “...You were right about the serum… I made it because I could never stop thinking about what happened last time…”

A long silence passed between them. And in that silence, something broke open inside of Kite. Quietly. Deeply. All this time, he’d thought the distance between them had been bitterness, maybe damaged pride, or stubbornness.

But it was fear, guilt, and grief–laced with a love Mizar couldn’t comprehend at the time.

This wasn’t just a man learning how to feel. This was a man who had loved Kite perhaps long before Kite himself had even realized he loved him back–and to whom had buried that love beneath duty and shame, convinced it had no place to exist.

And still… Mizar had tried to show that care. He had come back with the modified serum, just to be certain Kite would be okay, that he would recover.

“Mizar,” Kite whispered, his voice unsteady with understanding.

He drew Mizar closer–one arm still wrapped tight around his back, as the other cradled the back of his head, holding him like something precious. Because without a doubt, he was.

“You’re allowed to care...you’re allowed to feel.”

Mizar tensed against him–at first like he might argue–but then slowly relaxed, the words settling into him like truth he didn’t know he needed to hear.

Kite letting out a slow breath, steadying both of them. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said gently. “Not of how you feel. Not of me. You don’t have to act so strong all the time… We have each other now, and we can lean on one another.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just quiet, still, and safe. Then Kite drew Mizar in, pressing a kiss to his lips–slow, steady, and grounding. Pouring every unspoken word into that exchange before they finally pulled apart, foreheads barely touching.

“What happened...wasn’t your fault. I don’t want to hear you punishing yourself for it anymore,” Kite said, his voice low but unwavering. “So, if you really want to make up for it, do it by being here for me now.”

He paused, the softness of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Like I told you on the ship... I love you, Mizar. Stubbornness, pride, Barian flaws and all.”

Kite even attempted to mimic Mizar’s usual superiority complex, raising a brow in exaggerated fashion. “‘Humans and their emotional inefficiency,’ right?”

And to his surprise, a small laugh escaped Mizar–quiet, but real. The trembling in him slowly fading, as a softness returned to his blue eyes. “I love you too, Kite…”

A smirk tugged at Kite’s lips. “A little louder–I don’t think I caught that,” he teased.

A flustered expression crossed Mizar’s face, his mouth already parting for a retort–when a familiar voice suddenly chimed in.

“Ma-Master Kite! I know I shouldn’t intrude on your moment…but I believe I found something!” Orbital-7 exclaimed.

Kite and Mizar shared a glance, understanding passing silently between them. There would be time to speak more later–but for now, duty called.

“Good,” Kite said, turning back toward the monitor. “Best not to meet the others empty-handed.”