Work Text:
It wasn’t on purpose.
At least, that time, in that moment, in that life, he didn't want it to be and he had hoped it wouldn't.
However, the gods, or destiny —he would call it anything else before recognizing and using its true name —have ways and ideas incomprehensible to frail humans. Yami, or rather Atem, his first and oldest “self,” had to be tricked to know it.
And it took him a few centuries to understand it.
But before that, his first and oldest “self” had decided to trust blindly and had naively believed that a great desire did not come at a high cost. That being the faithful representative of gods whose faces he didn’t know, in front of subjects whose faces he is no longer able to recall, had been worth something.
That hugging the dying body of his childhood friend, the love of his life, while praying with all his heart to have another chance with her, was worth something in front of the gods.
But obviously, Yami —Atem, was wrong.
“Oh I'm sorry!” she is the first to speak, then, perhaps because he is slow to do so, assimilating all the information and memories and feelings that suddenly flowed into his soul and mind like a loud avalanche.
His papers and pencils are scattered on the floor, and he is afraid to look up even though it no longer matters. He's seen her.
His mouth feels dry no matter how hard he swallows and he hears his heartbeat so loud in his own ears that for a second Yami thinks he's going to faint.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice hurried with concern, and he knows, of course he knows, that the next thing she'll do is crouch down to his height, squat down, and meet her gaze with his own.
And it’s because she is like that, kind and friendly by nature, beautiful to the core, she has always been that way and she will continue to be that way...
Until what has to happen happens.
Yami nods then, and doesn't give her time to offer a helping hand when he jumps up.
“Yes, I…” he is a little surprised to hear his own voice, like the first time, like all the times that happens. As if he hadn't been hearing that same voice since he hit puberty in that life, as if it wasn't his. However, he knows it is. He knows that even though he no longer remembers what he sounded like in the past, that is no longer his voice. “I'm fine.”
“You sure? You look sick…”
Sick, yes. He suddenly feels sick. A curious way to describe it. Sick of loneliness. Sick of tiredness. Sick of love... Sick of everything. But even if he wants to say it, or even joke about it, he can't. Because she wouldn't understand. She would ask him to explain it to her. She would seek to spend more time with him, inevitably, unaware of reason, unaware of what it entails.
“I'm fine,” so he repeats. A little abrupt, sharp, before bending down to pick up everything that has fallen. At that point, he doesn't mind crumpling the papers he had so carefully printed for his next class. He doesn't mind leaving behind a pen that has rolled too far.
And he convinces himself, albeit unsuccessfully, that he doesn't care about her hurt, confused expression —unable to understand why he's running away from her.
He tries to convince himself that he’s not mesmerized by the intense green eyes that he once saw for the first time several millennia ago; that he’s not fascinated by the fact that this time, in this life, they both look almost exactly the same as they did 3000 years ago.
But he forces himself to do so. No, he has to. He must.
For her.
Yami purses his lips and, under the curious gaze of those he may or may not know on campus, starts to run.
And he runs, and runs, and runs until his back is against his dorms’ bedroom’s door and he lets himself slide until he can hide his face between his knees. His throat hurts from trying to get oxygen through his mouth, his lips are dry, his eyes are bubbly. The artificial darkness provides him with a moderately safe place, but just as lonely and cold. Once again his things are on the floor next to him, the alarm on his phone, indicating his next class, rings, but he can only cry his heart out.
Because the moment he remembered everything —the moment he saw her for the first time again and remembered, he simply knew that they were doomed.
Once again.
The first time it happened, Yami —Atem, or whatever his name was at the time, was overjoyed. His heart jumped when he saw her, his soul was filled with longing to be with her again.
And so it happened.
And for a time they were happy together, they did many things that years ago they hadn’t been able to do. The rest of the world didn't matter. Whatever their responsibilities were in that life took a backseat. They were ecstatic.
And then, she died young, again, completely destroying his heart and soul like the first time it happened.
The next time he remembered, he also felt happy. A little weird and confused, but happy. The gods had given him a third chance. In another time, another town, with other positions and other duties to fulfill.
Unfortunately, the power of a single civilian could not win against the religious beliefs of people destined to perish right after sacrificing the maiden he loved.
And so it continued.
A princess and a guard, they were at one time, from an empire similar to Egypt —he died fighting for her hand.
Two lovers from feuding families, destined to communicate only with letters until the end of their lives.
A eunuch and a harem girl —she was hanged, accused of deceiving the king. He doesn't know how many hits it took for him to finally die.
A prince, a bastard girl —the family of his fiancé sent someone to get rid of her.
Two soldiers, each from a different kingdom —both were accused of crimes against their country and executed by their respective nations when their encounters were discovered.
And it went on —and goes on, until finding each other ceases to be an illusion and becomes a sentence.
Yami no longer remembered the order of his lives, or his own names, or his own faces, or the friends and enemies he’d made. Everything became diffuse after the first centuries, looking in the mirror became tedious, maintaining friendships, family ties or hobbies became insignificant, as if nothing more than themselves mattered.
Everything becomes expendable, except for her. As though she becomes the only constant and relevant factor in eternity... in his eternity.
And she is, just as he is to her. But what initially seemed like the red thread of fate, ended up being nothing but a dog leash, for a dog that thinks it's in control, only to end up getting run over every time it crosses the road.
“Just a curse dressed up as a blessing,” she said sooner rather than later, after a few too many lives.
And Yami can't say that he doesn't understand. Tragedy hits them with certainty every time, after all, as if it were a horrible joke.
So he just covers himself up to his head with his sheets when his roommate asks if he's okay. Well, he's not, and he won't be. Because leaving her alone is the best choice. Because her not remembering, him not becoming the love of her life in this lifetime, is the only option for her to have a long and happy life filled with events he may or may not be invited to. A life where only he has access to those memories and only he suffers.
That's the only option, if he still wants to remember.
“Ok, that's enough,” Yami doesn't know what's happening until someone, his roommate, pulls at his sheets until they're on the floor. He's ready for that day, dressed and clean, his brow furrowed and soon crosses his arms before speaking with concern; “Two days in bed and we just returned for the second semester. What’s wrong, Yami?”
Everything.
“Leave me alone, Joey,” he says and tries to reach the sheets again.
“I can't leave you alone, this is also my room.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You can't miss so many classes without an excuse…” he seems to surprise himself. “Look at me, I'm talking like you!”
But Yami doesn't laugh at his attempted joke and Joey just drops his arms to sit next to him. If he had tried a relaxed approach so as not to scare him, it clearly hadn't worked.
It's not like Yami doesn't appreciate his concern. He has known Joey since his first year, he knows his story, his goals, he knows that he is a very good person and one of the best friends he has made throughout his lives. But that is precisely why he already knows that even if he tells him, he won’t understand. That even if he sincerely tries to help him, to give him a solution to his problems, he won’t succeed. And Yami doesn't want him to feel bad about it. He doesn't want all of his efforts to be forgotten once he dies and is reincarnated in his next life.
“Come on, buddy,” Joey insists. “You know how delicate scholarships are. You don't want your life's effort to go down the toilet, do you?”
“It's just one life, anyway,” Yami blurts out in a whisper loud enough for Joey to hear. His own indifference no longer surprises him, but he understands why it would suddenly be alarming to someone else.
It's a drastic personality change, after all. Although he no longer knows if he really has one. As the centuries passed, the changing positions, the difference in cultures, the lines between king and commoner, warrior and civilian, himself and his past selves, simply became blurred at some point. He is no longer Yami Muto in this life, but he is not the Pharaoh Atem either. He’s a mixture of all his names, bodies and experiences, with no shape or purposes, of all different feelings that pull towards opposite sides whose only end is to drive him crazy.
So yeah, he understands why Joey is suddenly looking at him that way, lips pressed together, not knowing what to say or how to help him. He doesn't blame him. What's more, he wants to tell him that there really isn't any problem and that he's just homesick all of a sudden.
But Joey interrupts him.
“It's not just one life, Yami. It's your life.”
He shows him a pressed lip smile. If only that were true.
However, somehow Joey convinces Yami to go to his only class that day. More than convincing, Yami feels bad for putting his friend in that situation. And even though he stopped caring ages ago, he also thinks of his family… Yami's family, who did everything in their power to help him pay for the trip to university. He’d rather things continue looking like they were before. No memories back, no sudden change of points of view, no heartbreaks or loneliness.
Of course, it is never that simple and the gods just love to remind him of that.
“So, you and I, that’s it,” she says, beaming at him as if they were old friends. As though she isn't aware that they used to be old friends. “Who would’ve thought we have a similar schedule! I’m Mana by the way!”
Mana… His heart hurts. What a way the gods have to taunt him.
He isn’t sure when she takes a seat next to him, nor does he remember the type of assignment they now have to do as a group. But he knows he has to say something.
“My name is…”
“Yami Muto,” though she interrupts with a bright smile, resting her head on her hand. “I've seen you before and you were the only one who missed class these days.”
Yami nods, confused. Was she referring to the day before? Or another occasion? If so, it would be the first time she noticed him before he noticed her and he can't help but feel a little happy, even excited by her show of interest in him.
But again, it's the first time in centuries that Yami hasn't escaped an interaction with her. Maybe it’s just a new storyline that the gods are using to toy with them… with him.
Him, not Yami. He has to remember that.
Mana had never been boy crazy.
Sure, she had liked a few and she had dated others. She had experiences, she knew how to interact with them.
Until she saw Yami for the first time in a coffee shop and for some reason everything was different.
She didn't know how to make him notice her, even though something inside her was screaming at her that she had to do it.
She then saw him again, walking around the university she planned to transfer to.
And then she found him again, in a library. He was with his friends, laughing quietly, making jokes with each other. Enjoying life.
Mana wanted to talk to him, but at the same time she felt that she shouldn't interrupt.
What were the chances that not only would he be a stranger she was attracted to, but they would also bump into each other on the way to class one day and have similar schedules for that semester?
She almost sighs as she looks at him out of the corner of her eye. He hasn't looked at her since the teacher assigned the random groups, looking sad and serious, or maybe uncomfortable. Mana feels like a stalker and laughs at herself.
Things never happen for a reason. At least she doesn't think so. Her parents didn’t die in an accident for a reason beyond her understanding. She and her brother weren't separated growing up because fate wanted it that way.
Things happen and that's it, but for some reason this time she wants to believe something different.
“So, your room or mine?”
“Sorry?” he flinches and she smiles, putting her iPad in her bag.
“To start the project.”
Yami scratches his cheek. It might just be her impression, but he was different from how she'd imagined. Not in a bad way, though.
“We should, uh... Maybe it's better if we meet in the cafeteria or the library.”
Mana doesn't know if she manages to hide her disappointment, but it doesn't seem to matter because he's not even looking at her. At first he seems totally indifferent to her approach, but on the other hand...
She resists the grin that forms on her face when she sees the redness of his ears.
“The library it is, then,” she agrees and then they both go their separate ways when the class ends.
Yami should've said no. He should’ve told her that they could do their own research separately and then put it together. Today's technology was advantageous to him in that way.
But the more he sees her and talks to her, the more he thinks that he can't see her with someone else again. He doesn't want to.
He wants her to be happy and smiling and laughing just like she always does with him. He wants to be with her even if it's selfish. Even if it's a mistake.
And it seems she wants to too. Because of how she talks to him, because of how she looks at him and smiles at him. Yami has seen her like this before, in their past lives. He would even dare to say that she is more direct and obvious than she has been other times, before remembering.
Before recovering her memories of both of them.
And that is the problem. He swallows and forces himself down from the rainbow. She's only behaving like that because of the gods' new narrative, he has to remind herself.
Mana notices his change in mood. Her gaze is thoughtful and her gestures urge curiosity, as if she is unaware of the wall he is trying to keep up. And of course she is unaware of that and of the storm of contradictory feelings in his being that are torn between letting her go once more or imprisoning her at his side forever again.
“Why don't we take a break?” she asks.
“We just started, though,” he says.
She raises both eyebrows, silently asking if he was serious.
“Yami, it's a research project,” Mana locks the screen of her tablet and leans on the table, leaning slightly towards him since she can't raise her voice much. “Even if we wanted to, it's impossible to finish in a few days, just meeting for a couple of hours.”
He cannot contradict that fact and she continues;
“Besides, I think it would be good for us to get to know each other better.”
The second he's processing what she just said, Mana jumps up, the legs of the chair echoing as they rub against the floor, and he barely has time to blink when she grabs his arm. “It's been a week and I still can’t find the cafeteria in one go, come on!”
Yami is overwhelmed by Mana's energy and joviality. A feeling of déjà vu and nostalgia runs through him, like when they were kids and she took him out of his father's office to play instead of doing homework. So, both those times and at that moment, he isn't physically able to say no as something completely different leaves his lips.
“You're always so…”
Whatever he says, Mana can't hear it, as the librarian sternly shushes them just as they reach the door.
Always?
She wants to ask what he said or why he sounded so nostalgic, as if he had known her for many years, but she stops just in time when she sees him smile so softly, incapable of popping that bubble.
Mana has seen that kind of smile before, on her grandparents when they told her about their adventures when they were young. On her brother, when he told her about their parents. It’s a smile of longing, a mixture of sadness and happiness. He is remembering something, or someone, she realizes then, as she lets go of his arm and both start walking side by side.
And he looks so lonely because of it.
Yami sometimes sees her in dreams. With different faces and different names, with smiles and tears of happiness that are for and because of him.
And he also sometimes sees her in nightmares. With her face darkened by bad memories and feelings. With smiles directed at other people and cries full of resentment and sadness directed towards him.
Slowly, without really knowing why, Yami opens his eyes. His nose is not stuffy, but his head hurts like someone is pressing on it. He is not only lethargic, but also unwell. Lately it happens more often, every time he wakes up aware of his new life. He believes he is getting weaker, that the vow is taking a different kind of toll. He's a very old soul in a very young body after all, but it's the only indication that whatever is happening, won't be able to continue happening for much longer.
That's when he realizes that someone is next to his bed. One image is superimposed on another due to fever, surely. Something in the middle of a dream and a hallucination. Suddenly, for a few seconds, he is no longer in his room surrounded by silence and bathed in sweat, but in a hospital, bustling and desperate. Everything and everyone moves around him except for her, who stands, wearing her blood-stained white uniform, waiting for him to show signs of life while tending to his injuries.
“…” so he concedes, calling her name in a whisper and stretching out his arm to reach her, to tell her that he is fine and that he will be fine even though both know he's lying.
“That's not my name.”
However, what he expects to happen —which is for everything to disappear as soon as his hand passes through it, as on other occasions —doesn’t happen, and instead only the memory disappears and the dream comes true. She's there, holding his hand in hers and he's slow to back away from her. “Is that why you look so sad sometimes…?”
Yami enjoys her cold hands, but the question echoes in his mind.
“What?” he asks.
Mana smiles with pursed lips.
“Don't worry about it.”
But he does.
Yami sits up. The change in position makes him slightly dizzy and is a good excuse for her to let go of his hand, even though her touch is the most pleasurable thing in all his lives.
“What are you doing here?”
It's still early, he notes.
She tilts her head, her hands now resting carefully on her legs.
“Joey told me you were sick,” she explains and nods toward the nightstand, where bottles of water and sandwiches were patiently waiting. “It seemed like he had a test that he forgot about or something and asked me to bring you something to drink and eat.”
Yami doesn't say anything about it, mildly and genuinely surprised by the fact that Joey and Mana know each other, or at least, the familiarity with which she spoke about him made that obvious.
Then he remembers that at the end of the day they would always be united by coincidences planned by a greater force and the surprise fades away.
She interprets his silence as him still wanting to know more, so she continues; “I was going to leave as soon as I left everything, but…”
“But?”
At that, she blushes and looks away, embarrassed as he has rarely seen her.
“It looked like you were having a nightmare. I thought you might like to see a familiar face when you wake up.”
A mix between a sigh and a laugh escapes him. Makes sense. She has never liked to be alone.
“A nightmare huh…” Yami repeats and she, although her cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment, looks at him curiously. To some extent it was true and he had nothing to lose or gain by saying it out loud. “I was dreaming... that I was a wounded soldier in a war,” he said. “They were trying to save me, but I knew I would die anyway.”
Mana swallows, feeling a mix of empathy and pity. The thought that he's joking doesn't even cross her mind. The way he tells it is solemn and distant, almost indifferent, but at the same time calm, as if it had happened to him before, as if it wasn’t a strange dream.
And she looks at him in silence. Something urges her to ask the question that is stuck in her throat, more than curiosity it seems desperation. And Mana knows he's waiting for her to ask away, or maybe she just wants to believe that because he doesn't change the subject or continue his story. And she's never been known for being patient.
So she does it, without beating around the bush.
“Was there someone who looked like me in your dream?”
“I don't know…”
Whether it’s a lie or not, no one can say for sure. Each one with an expression indecipherable to the other.
Yami lies down again, then, and pulls the sheets up to his neck as he faces the wall.
“You should go to class. I'll have to borrow notes from someone,” he says, without looking at her, and Mana, who can't help but smile, feels her heart fluttering away as it seems that little by little he is letting her break through the walls he has built.
Mana knows what she wants to do about Yami.
He no longer knows what he wants to do about her.
“I don't understand,” Mana listens to Miho, without much intention of paying attention because she is completely focused and determined that her eyeliner will be perfect this time. Her roommate doesn't even look at her from the comfort of her bed when she elaborates; “Getting involved with a man who's still not over his former girlfriend is never a good idea, and you know it.”
Mana can't deny that, so she takes a few seconds to respond before putting her makeup aside.
“... No one talks like that about their ex.”
“Unless they were separated against their will,” Miho this time looks up from her phone and sees Mana in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “It's a minefield, Mana, especially if you both look alike.”
Mana nods, but the truth is that she doesn't think that's the answer. “Yami is… different.”
She doesn't know how, but it's what she feels. In how he behaves, in how he talks to her. From one moment to the next he seems tormented, although it's not like he says it out loud. Sometimes he could be surrounded by a group, even with her, and he would still look lonely and distant. Other times he would talk to her and say things, not as if he expected a certain behavior, nor as if he was comparing her, but as if he had already known her for many years and would always smile with a sweet calmness next to her when she was completely honest. For Mana, talking to Yami made her feel at home, whatever that meant.
She sounds crazy and far-fetched, she is aware of that much, but she can't help it. Mana wants to know him. Be more than his acquaintance or a classmate. Leave a mark on his present, help him forget that past that haunts him.
“You really like him, don't you?”
Mana takes her bag before putting away her ticket to the local museum, however she stops when she hears the question and ponders.
She really likes Yami, yes.
No?
Yes.
When the golden, pyramidal object calls him, Yami doesn't hear his name or a voice. He also doesn’t hear a strange melody or see mysterious signs that guide him.
When the Millennium Puzzle, an object that once represented his position, faith, and loyalty to forces greater than himself, calls him, Yami simply knows that it is calling to him. So he just walks away from the guide's group, silently, not wanting to bother Mana, who is so attentive and interested that she listens to the stories that he could refute again and again if he wanted to.
You haven't changed at all, it seems to tell him, because when he sees himself reflected in the glass that protects it on the pedestal, it is Atem he sees, and the pilot, and the guard, and the warrior, and everyone and none at the same time... However, with just a blink, he sees only Yami again.
No, he sees himself again and realizes that the Puzzle is not the same either. It is no longer polished, nor does it shine. Its corners and edges that were once sharp and defined are now curved and, in the worst cases, broken. The object that once represented so much no longer represents anything, lost among thousands and thousands of stories that followed his.
“...It is said that it has the power to summon Gods,” he almost jumped, for he didn’t feel Mana approaching. The light highlights her green eyes when she looks up at him and Yami notices the fine eyeliner she has. Maybe it was just because of the Egyptian theme of the event, but he can't help but be amazed. “Incredible, right?”
Yami blinks. She refers to the legend of the Puzzle. He knows it's not just a myth.
“And They have the power to grant miracles,” Mana tilts her head at his comment. “And condemn with curses.”
“Do you believe in Them?”
“No.”
Mana looks at his profile. His answer is definitive, but from her own experience, she knows that he doesn’t say it as an atheist. Rather the complete opposite. It's not about believing, it's about him being sure of their existence, without room for debate, without room for questioning, and at the same time, he is disappointed… As if he’d been let down personally. If his scowl and tight lip mean anything more than pure resentment.
“You know,” so she speaks again, taking his arm and moving away from the object that abstracts him like an old memory. “Shit happens.”
Yami turns to look at her, then, perhaps because of the language she decided to use more than what she said in itself and she smiles at his surprise.
“Shit happens whether you believe or not.”
She herself is not a believer, but she prefers him to be at peace with himself.
And what happens next surprises them both.
Yami laughs.
Honestly and gently, fleeting like sand that changes with the wind. It's not the first time Mana has heard him laugh, but it's the first time she feels like it means something. Without realizing it, she takes a step closer to appreciate it more closely. His smile under the warm light and golden reflections attract her like a prophecy.
On his side, Yami can't help it. Mana had never had a foul mouth after all, but it's not a fact that he finds unpleasant at all. At least, not this time, when she's trying to make him feel better. In which she, in some way, shows him that although she is still the same person, she is also very different.
He realizes that he doesn't want to lose her. This version of her.
He realizes that he would die again and again to not forget her; but that he would fight to the point of exhaustion for this Mana.
And he realizes that just in time to put his hand between her lips and his, just in time to prevent tragedy, although that might be already inevitable. They both know it's not the first time he's rejected her, but it's the first time he's been so obvious about it. Mana looks more stunned than hurt, almost like she woke up from a reverie, and she takes two full steps back in a second.
“I… I'm sorry,” he says first, however, before turning around and fleeing once more. No one around him is watching, but for some reason —perhaps because of the several Eyes of Horus around him —this time Yami feels completely watched.
He always knew it was a bad idea. A terrible idea that he should never have entertained.
He can't catch a taxi right on the way out, because Mana catches him at the entrance.
“Yami, wait, I'm sorry!” she tells him. Her tone of voice is different from the one he used to apologize. Clearer and more desperate, between gasps for having run after him. Her hand hangs from his arm, firm yet, not planning on letting him go. “I'm never that bold, I don't know what happened to me.”
And in fact, he knows that she didn't know. Like the princess attracted by the spinning wheel, perhaps because they had been resisting each other for a long time.
“But, it's just…” she gets lost in her own words. “When I'm with you —since the first time, I don't know, it feels... It feels special. I feel safe by your side. As if… As if…”
Do not say it.
“It's silly, I know, I don't even believe in these things, but it's like…”
Please no.
“Fate. Don’t you feel the same?”
Yami almost chokes on his own saliva and he can't stop her from brushing her fingers against his. If he feels the same? Of course he does. He feels safe next to her. He wants to kiss her and hug her, and he wants to wake up with her at his side for the rest of his life — lives —no matter how selfish it sounds. But he knows that the moment he lets that feeling take over, the moment he loses against that despair, it will all be over, and she will be tired again. Victim of a foolish desire that defied the very law of life. And her light will go out and her love for him will become a heavy stone in her heart.
It's not fair.
It's not fair that she gets to call it fate now when all this time she has called it...
“A curse.”
“Huh?” she blinks, confused, and he doesn't blame her for that. He really doesn't, but maybe, deep down, he's angry.
He’s angry, because he knows and understands that she is right.
“It's not fate, or destiny, it's a curse,” he continues, knowing she won't understand. “You called it like that over and over again. You will continue to call it that even though you feel this way now. And you will resent me until we are reincarnated again and meet again.”
“Yami,” Mana looks at him with her eyebrows curved downward in concern. “I don’t get it, what are you talking about?”
She doesn't know what he's talking about, but she knows that Yami wouldn't say random nonsense just because.
Maybe he dislikes her so much that he is forced to make things up? It breaks her heart to think that that is the case, but said heart is clear that it’s not that either.
She doesn't know what he's talking about, but the sadness in his voice and eyes is genuine.
“Deep down you know, right?” Mana doesn't know what he means. “It's odd, the way you feel about me.”
Mana tries to deny it. Just a few hours ago she was talking to Miho about it. She really liked Yami.
“No… Yes,” but she hesitates for half a second, before shaking her head. “Do I not have a say in this?!”
The question catches him off guard and he clenches his fists, pushing her hand away from his, which only makes her insist more and more. Mana no longer thinks about what she says, and she just says it, feeling as if an ancient raging fire has suddenly been lit.
“Why do you always have to be the one to decide?” she questions. “From the beginning, do you think I didn't know what it entailed?! Do you think I was upset with you? I just wanted to live, but instead I lost you more times than I care to remember and I died more times than I can remember and I just know that I missed you and… and…!” her voice fades as she realizes what she is saying. Mana frowns and Yami is just as confused, perhaps more akin to terrified. Her hand moves to her forehead, suddenly she feels that she is forgetting many important things. “And…what am I saying?”
At that point, it's even strange that people haven't stopped to watch them.
Yami knows something is wrong. Not just what surrounds them, but with Mana herself. She had never said similar things before, not without remembering. And although he still wants to say many things, think about others, he knows that he has reached a conclusion.
Showing her a slight smile, not because he was happy, but because he wanted to give her some calm, Yami surprisingly puts his arms around her.
Mana calls his name, some name.
“You don't want to know, trust me,” he answers.
“What are you going to do?” she asks instead and he feels her fingers tangle in the fabric of his jacket. “I don’t know why, but I have the feeling that I won’t see you again.”
Yami doesn't respond when he kisses her forehead.
The Puzzle had called out to him again three thousand years later, after all.
She doesn’t follow him, and even though he’s a little disappointed, he’s also glad. The place that was once crowded is no longer crowded, and the Puzzle that had lost its shine shines immaculately like the last time he saw it. It only took him three millennia to understand.
So that her soul doesn’t break and her life isn’t shortened because of him, Yami talks to Them for the first time in ages.
They have the power to grant miracles after all and miracles are not given to just anyone who feels worthy of them.
“Are you okay” she asks, her voice hurried with concern.
He's fine. Sore, but fine. His things are on the floor, oh boy he has to hurry or he'll be late.
“Are you going to Professor Akaba's class? There are still about ten minutes left,” the girl he has bumped into asks. Yami hadn't realized that she was helping him pick up his papers.
She has brown hair and very kind green eyes. She's pretty, but that's not what catches his attention.
Yami denies it. “No. Hawkins. Same pavilion, though.”
She laughs and hands him his things. Soon they are both on their feet. “It makes sense. I’m Mana, by the way, I transferred right at the start of the semester.”
He smiles. “Yami,” he introduces himself as well, but although he wants to stay and chat, he soon remembers that he is against the clock. He’s already about to say goodbye and start walking when she stops him.
“Um, have we met before?” she asks, before he can disappear into the classroom.
Yami frowns. Ah, that was what had caught his attention.
But...
“I don't think so, I’d remember you.”
For some reason, she laughs.
“Yeah, I think I’d remember too.”
Yami can’t help but smile. She’s a bit weird, though not in a bad way. “I’ll… see you around, then?”
Mana nods.
Hopefully, their paths will cross again. Someday, somehow.
“I’ll see you around, then.”