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The nights are long and cold in the Arctic this time of year.
But that’s why they’re here.
The low temperatures enhance electrical conductivity in their machine. And with such a small source of Astralite available to them, they need to maximize energy output whatever way they can.
Christopher remembers enjoying the winter growing up. He loved sitting by the window, enchanted by the frosty stillness that set over everything when it snowed.
But the cold here isn’t like that at all. It’s harsh and rough and loud. The wind howls continuously, blowing ice and snow across jagged mountains and empty plains, lands untouched by true springtime for centuries.
Chris finds himself reluctant to spend more time outside than is absolutely essential. The rocky walls around the lab keep enough of the wind out of their workspace, but the temperatures are bitterly cold regardless.
Fortunately, at this point he’s more useful running calculations from the relative comfort of the observatory, stationed above the rocky passageway where Kaito and Orbital are assembling a rough framework for their portal.
If he was a better person he wouldn’t have been so grateful for the opportunity to come out to this desolate place. But he finds the solitary nature of the work comfortable as he meddles with his equations at a small desk under an icicle-covered window.
It hasn’t been easy trying to resume family life. Tron asserts his authority too inconsistently to adequately address every household matter. Chris tries to fill in, only to be challenged at every point by Thomas. It’s a frustrating cycle he can’t seem to break.
He did a poor job looking after his family in his father’s absence, and he can feel a deep distrust and resentment filling the space between him and his brothers.
The sapphire gem on his wrist glows faintly in the dim room, and straightens the sleeve of his shirt to cover it just a bit more.
He thinks about the other souls he’s tethered to and hopes his family is managing alright while he’s here.
Ultimately he wants to be angry that their world is in danger because Faker opened the portal that allowed the Barians to enter this world the first time.
But in truth his father played a role in that research as well. And now the Barian technology has become deeply ingrained in his family and their ambitions.
They have a lot to do. He and Kaito have to recreate years of their fathers’ research, and fix all the flaws. And if they don’t, the world will pay for their familys’ mistakes.
So he braves the harsh weather periodically … to make sure Kaito is alright.
It’s foolish to worry about him. Kaito can take care of himself. But in temperatures this low, bad things can happen fast, and he can’t imagine Orbital was built with particular attention to this type of climate.
“How’s it going?” he calls out louder than he typically would so his voice carries over the wind.
Kaito looks up and wipes a layer of frost from his goggles so he can see. “It’s fine. I’m just finishing up on this part now,” he says, leaning against a large metal panel to shove it closed.
He tosses the tool he had been holding to Orbital, and the bot extends its arm, nearly falling over to catch it, grumbling as it places the piece back neatly in the set contained in a drawer extending from its center.
To his credit, Kaito seems largely undaunted by the task at hand.
…and unbothered to be spending most of the day alone. Maybe Orbital is good company. Either way, Chris feels ashamed to be interrupting him because of his own growing sense of uneasiness.
“Is it late?” Kaito asks, his breath coming out in wisps in the frigid air.
“Not too late yet,” Chris admits. “I just wanted to see if you were hungry. I was thinking about making dinner.”
Kaito snorts. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I’m glad I can still surprise you,” Chris says.
Kaito slides his goggles up on his head and smiles slightly as he gets a closer look at his partner.
“You look a bit like your youngest brother when your face gets pink from the cold,” he says.
“Is that so?” Chris muses, holding a hand up to his icy cheek. “I can’t tell if you mean that in a kind way or not.”
Kaito shrugs. “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just interesting now that I finally got to meet your brothers. You used to talk about them a lot.”
“That’s true,” Christopher agreed. “I’m glad you’ve had the chance to meet them.”
It’s not quite the same though. He’s very aware his brothers have changed in his absence.
He wonders if the tougher, damaged versions Kaito met in battle make his stories seem strange. Is is believable that the two people who had tormented him when his brother was taken had once stayed up as late as they could, falling asleep in a makeshift pillow fort next to the front door while they waited for their older brother and father to return from their first expedition?
He’s relieved to have his family back, but figuring out what parts of them are the same and which have fundamentally changed is a tiresome puzzle.
Though neither of them would be here if Kaito didn’t have an affinity for solving complicated puzzles.
Kaito nods. “I’m glad you have them back.”
Christopher focuses on avoiding the patches of ice spreading out over the steps as they make their way back to the observatory.
Kaito was surprised Chris answered his call at all, let alone that he was willing to drop everything and come with him to the Arctic.
Despite being the most brilliant physicist Kaito could ever imagine, being fluent in probably a dozen languages, and knowing how to play at least three or four instruments, Christopher Arclight is probably the stupidest person to ever exist, Kaito thinks.
He dedicated life to revenge because Faker had sacrificed his father to open the door to the Barian World, but he accepted Faker’s son’s invitation to open a portal to another world before Kaito even had the chance to explain why he was doing it.
It’s probably for the best he didn’t have to waste time explaining the intricacies of Astral’s situation.
That’s always been the best thing about Chris; he rarely cares to hear people over-explain things to him. Maybe because he’s always five steps ahead already and simply doesn’t care for the redundancy.
It’s fine. Kaito doesn’t want to waste time with apologies or things of that nature anymore either. They don’t know when the Barians will attack. Every time a freezing wind blows and makes it difficult to breathe for a moment he remembers the heaviness he felt dueling in the Barian Sphere Field.
He’s grateful Chris is helping. No one else can do this kind of math quickly enough, and rationalize the kind of risks the solutions require.
“It’ll be close, but I think we can get it to work,” Chris says one afternoon when Kaito is inside getting warm.
He folds his arms, leaning back in his chair so Kaito can see the paper he’s scrawled the latest series of calculations on.
Kaito can’t read any of it. He remembers Chris having better penmanship than this. But that was a long time ago.
“… that’s good,” Kaito says. “Do you have time to update the blueprints? I still have a bit more construction work to do before I start on the circuitry or programming.”
Chris nods. “Of course. I can finish updating things today, then I’ll be able to help you build tomorrow.”
“That’s great!” Kaito says, and he means it. Chris really is brilliant, and Kaito wouldn’t mind having the company outside. Orbital’s incessant chatter is starting to grate on him.
The more he thinks about it, Kaito realizes he wouldn’t be able to sacrifice Chris, even to save Haruto. Or the world.
Taking souls of strangers was one thing. It had been easy enough to believe the people causing chaos across the city with numbers wrapped around their souls were evil when he needed their cards to save his brother. But ultimately, he was never put in the position to sacrifice someone he knew. Let alone someone who had given him the strength to collect numbers in the first place.
Chris had given him his number without his asking anyway.
Maybe Chris had already considered all this, and come to the same conclusion.
Eventually Christopher finishes the rest of the plans and joins Kaito in the assembly. The two of them make quick work of constructing the structure together, despite the harsh conditions.
They try to do most of the work during the limited hours of daylight, but Kaito has also installed bright floodlights above the portal to allow for the inevitability of working in the dark.
But when the temperatures drop after the early sunset, it only takes a few minutes for Christopher to feel like his face is burning in the icy wind, and the metal wrapped around his wrist begins to feel colder and heavier.
Kaito seems unaffected. He often stays working when Chris has to go back inside for breaks, and doesn’t complain much about anything. Unsurprisingly he’s much faster when it comes to putting things together too.
He’s the perfect person for the job, but that just leads to a bubbling resentment in Chris as he’s once again reminded of how inadequate he is next to Kaito.
Kaito has always been a more dedicated brother, stronger when it comes to dealing with his father, and now has even surpassed Christopher in dueling abilities.
Not that it’s a surprise. Chris isn’t even the strongest duelist in his family anymore. He doesn’t even know when Thomas got stronger than him.
“Im surprised you don’t get cold out there,” he finally says when they’re both inside the observatory on a break.
Kaito shrugs. “I do, I’m just trying to work fast,” he says. “We don’t know when the Barians will make their next move, and we still have a lot left to do.”
“I understand, I’m just concerned you’re not taking enough breaks,” Chris says. He hesitates, almost hiding behind a mug of tea, then adds, “… or is it possible you’re still dealing with side effects from your photon transformation?”
Kaito narrows his eyes as he watches Chris set his cup on the desk.
“That wouldn’t make sense. I haven’t dueled since we got here,” he responds coolly.
Chris shivers, pulling down the sleeves of his shirt a bit more to cover the cool metal around his wrist.
“I mean does it have a residual effect on your temperature?” Chris clarifies.
Kaito frowns. “Have you considered that maybe there’s nothing wrong with me, and that you’re just being a baby?”
Chris grits his teeth.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he admits. Kaito reminds him a bit of Thomas when he snaps at him like this. Or maybe Thomas reminds him of Kaito now.
Kaito waits a moment, expecting Chris to say something else.
He doesn’t.
So Kaito goes over to the doorway, grabbing the set of tools he left inside, hoping the frost would melt off of them while he was there. It mostly has.
“I’m going to go finish up the inner panels now,” Kaito grumbles as he puts his boots back on.
“You can do that tomorrow,” Chris insists. “You shouldn’t be out there alone for too long, and I’m not up to going back out just yet.”
“It’s fine, Orbital is still out there,” Kaito says before unlatching the door and disappearing out into the darkness.
The observatory is silent again, except for the muffled sounds of the howling winds.
There are times when Kaito wonders if he really misses the countryside where he grew up, or if he’s just sentimental about the simplicity of his life back then.
But when he looks at the sky now, swirling with stars and glimmering galaxies he hasn’t been able to see through the city lights for years, he remembers the time he used to spend making up constellations with Haruto. And maybe despite his growing ties to the city he finds himself missing their old home just a little.
But when he looks closer at the stars he finds they’re set up all wrong at this latitude, and he can’t find the same constellations he remembers.
“You were kind of rude to Christopher considering you asked him to come all the way out here to help you,” Orbital says, following behind Kaito. His wheels make irritating clicking sounds as they pass over the stones on the walkway.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he says flatly.
Despite not having lungs, Orbital makes a huffing sound at him. “He’s just concerned about your health. I know you are too, otherwise you’d have left me back home with Haruto instead.”
Kaito is beginning to understand why his brother has been telling him that he doesn’t need Orbital around as much lately. The robot’s intense caregiver programming has made him overbearing in ways Kaito hadn’t been able to appreciate before his photon transformation began to weaken him.
“I brought you here because you’re a powerful portable source of electricity and an effective way to transport tools,” he says.
“I’m more than that!” Orbital insists, spinning his head around indignantly, releasing a bit of steam from between his panels. “I could do all the calculations he’s doing, probably in half the time!”
“I doubt that,” Kaito says. “You’re not programmed to do the kind of problem solving Chris has to do.”
Orbital makings a whirring sound as he retracts his arms to fold them dramatically over his middle, mimicking the way Kaito looks down at him now. “I think you just want more time with him because you’re waiting on an apology.”
Kaito moves his arms, burying his hands in his coat pockets in fists so his fingers will warm faster.
“You don’t understand at all,” he says through gritted teeth. “I was upset back then, but leaving was the best thing he could have done for me. I needed to learn how to stand up for myself. There’s no need for anyone to apologize.”
“If you say so, boss,” Orbital says, shaking his head before resuming his work. “You should go back inside though. I can do this part faster without you,” he says, without looking back at Kaito.
Kaito fights his instinct to reprimand the robot. He’s exhausted and doesn’t really want to be out here anyway.
When he gets back to the observatory he finds Chris sitting at his makeshift desk, holding a pencil and staring at the ceiling.
He’s been forced to start braiding his hair again to keep it out of his face while he’s working, but he hasn’t had the time to redo it each day, and parts of it are coming loose, sticking out in odd directions. The glasses he wears when he needs to look at things closer also have a deep crack across one of the lenses after dropping them outside in the cold as well.
He looks very wild and unkept; very much the opposite of what Kaito is used to.
He startles a bit as Kaito fights to close the door through the wind.
He takes a deep breath, sitting in a chair across the room as Chris eyes him carefully.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m doing fine, and I have Orbital here to make sure we’re both managing safely in the cold,” Kaito says.
“… I understand. I apologize for overstepping.”
Kaito exhales sharply. “It’s not that.
I probably don’t feel the temperature quite right. I have some lasting nerve damage from training after you left. I just don’t want you to waste time worrying.”
He eyes the metal bracelet Chris is twisting absentmindedly around his wrist. “…if anything I’ve been concerned about you. It’s not ideal to have metal on you in this cold.”
Chris stops messing with his wrist and laughs lightly. “Yes, it’s not ideal. But that just gives me some extra considerations for the next versions.” He purses his lips. “I’m sorry your training was like that though. I remember getting glimpses of some of the research on training duelists that was going around there at the time, and it didn’t look…exceedingly ethical.”
Kaito snorts. Chris has a funny way or phrasing things sometimes.
“I was lucky you already trained me to have sharp dueling instincts, or I wouldn’t have been able to come out on top,” he says.
In truth, that’s really why he’s worried about Chris.
When he was younger, Kaito was so starstruck by the cool older kid who saw something in him worth training that he failed to see just how recklessly Chris had been acting when he agreed to train him for a solid week.
He didn’t really understand it until he found himself doing the same in his number hunting days; taking unnecessary risks that could be rationalized by helping others, but objectively weren’t worth endangering his life for.
Chris is different from how he was back then, Kaito thinks. But he isn’t sure if he’s better or worse.
“I’m glad it worked out,” Chris says. “You have a very unusual talent. I’m grateful I get to see it being realized.”
It’s rare for Chris to praise him, and despite his age, Kaito finds himself a bit flustered by it.
“I don’t need to be the strongest. I just need enough power to accomplish what I’ve set out to do.”
One night Chris finds Kaito watching the recording of his interrupted duel with Mizael. He’s seemingly mesmerized as the dark dragon roars on the screen, its deep violet glow reflected in his eyes.
“What do you know about making cards?” Kaito asks, his eyes still fixed on the mechanical beast.
“I’m decently versed on the process,” Christopher admits, delicately placing his chair next to Kaito.
Kaito pauses the video as the golden Barian reveals the rank up magic spell card in his claws.
“I was told that my deck was created by my father and Mr. Heartland. So I was surprised to find another Galaxy-Eyes user. But it’s even stranger than that,” Kaito says, his eyes flickering up at Chris before he minimizes the video to pull up photos of a large stone tablet with brightly colored carvings.
Chris blinks stupidly. “… is that Galaxy-Eyes?” he asks. He pulls down his glasses from the top of his head and looks closer. “… and Tachyon and Neo Tachyon. I don’t recognize the other one.”
“Right,” Kaito says. “But this monument is centuries old. My deck was made five years ago.”
Chris tilts his head slightly. “That doesn’t mean that Galaxy-Eyes didn’t exist in some form before. I’m guessing you asked me about the process of making cards because you know it dips into less understood sciences.”
“Less understood sciences,” Kaito repeats. “You mean magic. Arcane rituals like the one Tron performed on Haruto.”
“I mean a type of science where the mechanisms it functions by aren’t fully understood yet,” Chris says.
Kaito leans back in his chair, studying Chris’s expression. “Go on.”
“We know of the Astral World and the Barian World. But some believe there are other worlds where the spirits of duel monsters reside,” Chris says.
“It’s also true that number cards, while originating from the Astral World, ultimately take their form in this world based on their user’s deepest desires.”
Kaito hums thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s not entirely unprecedented if you consider it as an extension of the observer effect.”
Chris smiles slightly. “Yes. Just like photons behave differently when they’re being observed, cards have been known to change when they’re picked up or even used.”
Kaito nods. “So it’s possible Galaxy-Eyes Photon Dragon has always existed, and was brought into this world through a card somehow.”
“I suppose.“
“… and if I need the missing dragon?” Kaito wonders aloud.
“If it hasn’t guided some other power to add it to this world yet, your best opportunity would be picking up a number card. One that comes to you, not someone else’s,” Chris says.
“Astral technology to fight against Barian technology then,” Kaito muses. He turns to look up at Chris again. “How did Dyson Sphere appear to you?”
“I found it between the pages of a book I was reading,” Chris says distantly.
“… what book were you reading?”
He can feel Kaito eyeing him sharply as he leans against the frigid window beside his desk, studying the familiar icicles forming under the structure’s roof.
“It was just an old dueling textbook, nothing remarkable. I’m not sure how it found its way in there,” he says.
Kaito frowns.
“Why were you reading an old textbook then?” Kaito says. “You know how to duel.”
It was when he was figuring out what effects III and IV could use to best take down Galaxy-Eyes. He had been the last one in his family to find a number card.
“I’m sure you know why,” Chris says dryly.
Kaito studies the dragon carvings on the screen again. “I figured it wasn’t a coincidence. Dyson Sphere is a structure meant to absorb light. Its attack is just 200 points lower than Galaxy Eyes, so it will trigger its effect.”
“We should get some rest soon. It makes sense to run the next series of tests before the sun comes up. When the night is at its coldest,” Chris says, getting up from him chair.
Kaito mumbles something in agreement, but stays staring at the computer screen for a few moments longer before shutting it down and disappearing to his side of the room.
Chris is back working inside again, fine tuning the calculations and numbers to get everything to work.
It’s still an issue of probability though. They can maximize their chances of the portal working, but ultimately there will be no guarantee it will function correctly.
And the uncertainty, along with the darkness and time constraints, is getting to him. The numbers he’s coming up with don’t feel right. Some are too heavy and some are too light, and they’re all technically within the ranges of what he and Kaito anticipated, but when he thinks of someone actually using the portal a sense of dread weighs on him.
He runs through the equation again. The answer is the same. He leans over to grab a new piece of paper to try it again, swiping the rest of his work to the floor, but his pen knocks against his bracelet and he jumps.
He leans over the bracelet to inspect the gem for cracks, or the metal for scuffs. Anything that might cause problems for the soul tethered to it, or the others connected to it further down the line. But it all looks fine.
He exhales slowly, his breath shaky. He always knew the crests were tied to their father’s but experiencing the ramifications of losing a numbers duel had shown him just how dark the technology they were playing with truly was.
He knows logically the bracers should tether their souls to the correct bodies and mitigate some of the risks. But it’s still new, and he can’t afford for anything to go wrong.
Just then, the front door of the observatory opens, sending a freezing draft across the lab. Kaito rushes in, attention focused on a tablet in his arms.
“The storm is dying down,” he says. His face is still pink from the cold. “Orbital thinks we might be able to send a message out if we try soon. I’m updating Haruto on our progress. What do you want to send to your family? It’s pretty late back in Heartland right now, so there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to get back to us before the wind knocks out communications again,” he says.
Chris waves his hand. “That’s alright, I don’t need to send them anything yet.”
Kaito finally looks up, surprised. “Are you sure?”
Chris nods. “They’re not expecting anything from me at this point.”
Kaito looks at him strangely. “… they haven’t heard from you in days. You don’t want to just let them know you’re alive?”
Chris sighs.
“My brothers don’t like me much,” he admits. “They’re angry at me for leaving them before. I think they’d prefer not to hear from me at all.”
“If they’re mad at you for leaving them alone, how will disappearing with no communication help,” Kaito says slowly and pointedly, as if he’s explaining a simple addition problem to a child for the hundredth time.
Chris doesn’t have an answer.
“Come here, I’ll help you write something,” Kaito says, motioning for Chris to hurry.
“You’re an engineer, I shouldn’t be surprised you think everything can be fixed,” Chris mumbles.
“We’re seeking a key that can rewrite anything that has ever been or will be across the universe,” Kaito says. “Of course everything can be fixed.”
Ultimately Kaito helps him send a message to his brothers, updating them on the status of their project.
Despite the time difference and limited window of time they have to get a message back before the next storm rolls in, they do get a brief response from Thomas:
“You should hurry up. III is getting worried about Yuma.”
Kaito rolls his eyes at the implication that they’re working slowly, but Chris is pleased to hear from him.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to summon the other dragon,” Kaito admits one evening.
They’ve hit another wall with their work. It was easy to be optimistic when they started. It had felt like there were infinite possible ways things could fall into place, and they had time to figure it out.
But now they’ve built a physical thing and have a concrete catalog of its shortcomings and errors. And they’ve used up precious time getting here, so they don’t have the ability to start over any more.
They need to get the portal to stabilize with this machine, and they need to do it before the Barians start their next wave of attacks, which seem like they’re long overdue at this point.
“The numbers have never chosen me. Even Neo Galaxy-Eyes is from Haruto’s power rather than my own,” Kaito continues, drumming his fingers against the desk impatiently.
Chris nods thoughtfully. “I might have something for you.” He shuffles around the room, sliding papers on the floor until he uncovers a set of three matching spell cards.
Kaito is pretty familiar with Chris’s deck, but he doesn’t immediately recognize them. Upon closer inspection the image on the spell seems to include all of the Arclights’ crests.
“What card is this?” he asks.
“It’s one I made,” Chris says. “It’s a version of their rank up magic card that we can use.”
Kaito’s recoils away from the card. “That’s Barian technology. It won’t help me summon the missing dragon. I’ve already determined it comes from the Astral World.”
“No, it won’t,” Chris agrees. “But if you aren’t able to get the card you need, you can at least use it to give yourself a better chance of defeating the Barians.”
Kaito looks closer at the card, frowning slightly. “Maybe. But if I have a backup plan it could lessen my will to fight and decrease my chance of getting the number to materialize.”
“It would be a last resort anyway,” Chris admits. “Our bodies aren’t fortified the same way Barian ones are, so using it would be painful at best. Possibly dangerous depending on your condition.
“But I think you should take it anyway, and remember that my brothers and I died to give you enough time. I know you’re not above keeping a card in your deck for sentimentality,” Chris says, holding the card out to Kaito.
Kaito glares at him. “Acting like you’ve already lost before the battle has even started… your will is weak. This is why I’ve already surpassed you.”
He takes the card from Chris’s hand.
“You might be right,” Chris says finally. “But I know you won’t lose.”
“We shouldn’t attempt the final stage of testing,” Kaito says, shaking his head.
“It would be foolish not to test it before sending Yuma through,” Chris insists.
Kaito frowns. “I don’t think either of us would be an ideal candidate for testing. At least not the same way Yuma is.”
“Why is that?” Chris says, eyes narrowed. He shuffles the papers on his desk impatiently. Maybe the dark and cold are finally getting to him, Kaito thinks.
“I suspect there are variables we can’t control for,” Kaito says simply.
“What variables?” Chris asks sharply. He nervously turns his bracelet around on his wrist so the hazy blue stone is facing upright.
“Yuma’s father was able to travel to the Astral World before. It’s possible he’s still there now. But both of our fathers have only been able to go to the Barian World,” Kaito says slowly.
Christopher’s eyes widen. “… you’re suggesting there might be something genetic that determines where the portal will take someone?” he says, incredulous.
“Not specifically. I’m saying there just seem to be more variables than we understand. But Yuma’s father left the coins for him to find. So whatever the variable is, it seems he’s assured Yuma can make it through,” Kaito says.
Chris clenches his jaw, and Kaito senses he’s running a series of rapid calculations through his head.
“I should at least try,” he says finally. “I’ll be quick and come right back. Even if it’s not the right destination, I’ll still know the rest of it works. And we can make a call about sending Yuma later.”
Kaito feels ill at the thought of it. His father had a noble goal for sacrificing his friend to the Barian World, too he supposes.
“… fine. But we should wait until the coldest part of the morning to run it so the resistance is minimized,” Kaito finally says.
Chris looks relieved. “That’s right,” he agrees.
“And we should get some rest until that time,” Kaito says. “We have at least five more hours.”
His partner nods. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try to sleep at least,” he says, laughing lightly.
As Chris turns to walk away, Kaito stops him. “Chris…” he mumbles, not quite meeting his eyes.
“…yes?”
“You know I’ll always make sure you come back, right?” Kaito asks quietly. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Of course,” Chris smiles at him warmly. “I wouldn’t try it if I thought otherwise. I really will be right back.”
“… yes, right back,” Kaito agrees.
Somehow after what seems like hours of listening to the screeching winds on the other side of the walls, Christopher finally manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.
But when his alarm cuts through the early morning darkness he finds the station oddly quiet. He looks out past the icicles hanging over the back window to find the jet they had flown in on together gone, and his heart sinks as he finally realizes what Kaito had meant the night before.
He paces up and down the short hallway, three times, four times, five times, grabs the desk Kaito had been working at and flips it over sending his computer crashing to the ground and papers fluttering across the tiled floor of the lab. He stops, panting and adjusts his bracelet once more, roiling blue gem facing up.
Theres nothing he can do but wait until Kaito comes back now.