He knew he might just as well turn off his computer as soon as he heard the front door open and close again. A loud yell for “Otou-chaa~aan! We’re home!” followed, immediately silenced by a “Hush, Sumi-chan! Your father is working!”
A smile graced his face as he reached for the ‘off’ button - in fond memory of his ancient typewriter he used to write his manuscripts with - and was just in time before his daughter stormed into his office and immediately jumped on his lap, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.
“Otou-chan, we’re home again!”
“So I’ve noticed,” Yuugi deadpanned as he stroked his daughter’s hair, his heart melting at her joyful exuberance. She looked so much like her mother, with her dark brown hair framing her face like that, and those wide, blue eyes looking up at him. Despite being a little rambunctious every now and then, Mutou Sumi in general disposed over much elegance and grace, with the distinct walk of a prima ballerina copied from her mother. She had inherited her father’s love for playing games and was quick to accept challenges.
Yuugi didn’t need to look up to see the woman he loved standing in the door opening, but he tilted his head anyway, smiling at his wife to greet her. Anzu heaved an exaggerated sigh and moved her hand up to unravel her hair, twisted into a bun. She shook her head a few times for the strands to fan out over her shoulders and returned Yuugi’s smile.
“That’s the last time I go last-minute shopping.”
“I’m sorry, I could’ve run the errand if I knew...”
“It’s okay,” Anzu said as she unbuttoned her coat. “We didn’t want to disturb you, and we were able to get everything we wanted. I’m going to get started on dinner, all right?”
Yuugi nodded and shifted Sumi on his lap. The girl laughed happily and as always, reached for his keyboard to start ‘typing’. He often felt guilty about how his family threaded so careful around him, to not disturb the author of the famous Pharaoh series as he was working on a new book. Not one moment in his life had Yuugi dreamed about or considered becoming an author; he graduated high school with average grades and started working in his grandfather’s GameShop. After Sumi was born, he had started telling her stories about a Pharaoh who didn’t know his name and searched to find it. It was loosely based on what happened in his own life, but he kept it simple for his daughter to understand.
Little Sumi was very excited about the story and wanted to know if the Pharaoh would find his name, so Yuugi started telling more, blending reality with fantasy. Before he knew it, he was putting his story to paper and much to his own surprise, the series turned quite popular. Children were eager to read about the adventures of the young Pharaoh and Yuugi’s publisher kept asking for new installments in the series. There was a shelf on the west wall of the room, containing every book of the on-going series about the Pharaoh and his friends. Yuugi sometimes wondered how Atemu would’ve felt about being ‘chibi-fied’; the Pharaoh in his story shared some obvious character traits with the former Spirit of the Sennen Puzzle. Well, obvious to Yuugi and his friends of course, as they had known him in person.
No matter what, Atemu had been a part of his life, and after he had left, Yuugi realized the influence he had had on him…and still was having on his life. It felt strange without the Pharaoh around, without the Sennen Puzzle, without Duel Monsters the way he was used to play it. Yuugi had surpressed his thoughts, his memories, not knowing the right way to deal with it. He moved on, finished high school, started a job, married Anzu… and still, the Pharaoh was there, not every day, not every second, but just… there. Lately, and maybe because of the books, Yuugi felt that Atemu was increasing his influence on his life, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Surpressing everything what had happened hadn’t been the right way, and he didn’t want to deny Atemu his rightful place. With the books, he felt he had Atemu close, acknowledging him, without getting too much involved. It sounded silly perhaps, but this was the only way for Yuugi now to deal with it.
Sumi looked around, the keyboard boring her already. Her eyes darted through the room and finally halted at a large, framed picture on the desk.
“Otou-chan,” the girl said, “who are those people in the picture?”
“You know them, Sumi-chan,” Yuugi said. “These are my friends.” He leaned forward to pick up the picture, using his fingers to point out the person he was talking about. “This is Honda-kun and next to him is Jounouchi-kun, they opened up a car repair shop together. This is Otogi-kun, who owns the Black Crown stores all over town.”
His thumb moved. “And you know who this is…”
“Kaa-san,” the girl immediately supplied. “Who’s standing next to her, otou-chan?”
“Shizuka-chan, Jounouchi-kun’s younger sister,” Yuugi explained. “This is Bakura-kun…” His voice trailed off. He stared with sudden sadness at the picture.
“Otou-chan?”
“Hmmm, what?”
“What’s wrong, otou-chan?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Yuugi said and lowered his head to kiss his daughter on the nose. “Why don’t you go help kaa-san in the kitchen? I think she’s making daifuku!”
“Yum! Daifuku!” Sumi clapped her small hands together and slid off of his lap, ecstatic at the thought of the sweet dessert. She ran out of the room, leaving Yuugi with a wistful smile and the picture in his hands.
The rice was almost done, and Anzu added the last of the ingredients to the stir fry she was preparing. Her feet were slightly hurting; she’d had to hurry to get the last of the grocery shopping done. She’d only discovered late this afternoon that she had been all out of miso and soy sauce. No, she’d never be a well-organized housewife, but at least there would be a well-prepared dinner on the table tonight; she liked cooking.
“There you are,” Anzu said as she noticed her daughter entering the kitchen. “You’re just in time to help me out.”
Like many children her age, Sumi adored imitating her mother, and she loved to help out. She climbed onto a chair, movements fast and nimble. Anzu mostly gave her little tasks like stirring into a bowl or putting the napkins on the table; this time she allowed Sumi to put the finishing touch on the salad.
“Otou-chan showed me the picture, kaa-san,” she said, her face serious as she sprinkled the ingredients into the salad bowl.
“What picture, sweetheart?”
“Of otou-chan’s friends,” Sumi answered and Anzu knew what she was talking about. It was taken at the party after their graduation, and everyone of their friends had the same picture framed somewhere in their house.
“It’s a lovely picture,” Anzu agreed. “We were all very young back then, and we just had finished school.”
“I like school,” Sumi said and tried to spread the ingredients as evenly as possible, using a large spoon. She was so caught up in her task that she didn’t hear her father coming down for dinner. Anzu turned around to pick up Sumi and the large salad bowl and ushered her into the dining room. Yuugi entered the kitchen, his face painstakingly neutral, but with an already familiar sadness in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her.
“How long has it been?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, inhaling his familiar scent, she said: “Eight years, four months and two weeks, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” Yuugi immediately said and tightened his grip on his wife. She didn’t protest, instead moved her hand up to stroke his hair; she knew how much he liked that. It always soothed him, calmed him. “It’s not your problem.”
“I’m your wife and your best friend,” she said, voice soft. “I was there when it happened, Yuugi. And you still think it’s not my problem?”
“I don’t want it to be your problem.”
“It is,” she said curtly, but kept stroking his hair to take the sting out of her words. “You know what I felt for him, Yuugi. I…”
“It never went away, did it?” His voice was breathless.
“Neither did it for you,” she answered. Anzu had reconciled herself a long time ago with the fact that one person in particular would hold a part of Yuugi’s heart, a part she would never have or could ever reach. It was ruled from beyond the grave, a part of his soul that was caught in the Afterlife when Atemu passed onto it. She didn’t notice how her own fingers clenched at her husband’s shirt.
They didn’t marry each other out of passion, but not out of pity either. They truly loved one another, but there was someone else who had brought them together, was keeping them together and driving them slowly apart at the same time. How long would it take before he ruled over their lives so much that they had no other choice…? Anzu didn’t want to think about it. Clinging to Yuugi, she remained in his arms until she softly said: “Sumi-chan will return any second now.”
He nodded and let go of her, but not before he kissed her on the forehead.
“Kaa-san, tell me more about the picture,” Sumi said when her mother was tucking her into bed. Anzu couldn’t help but smile and wonder where the Kaiba-like tenacity came from. Last time she checked, she was married to a Mutou, not a Kaiba.
“Why do you want to know about the picture so bad, Sumi-chan?”
“Otou-san was very sad when he looked at it. Why was otou-chan sad?”
Anzu and Yuugi had decided when they would be having kids, to raise them with respect and honesty. They both believed in truth, and in answering questions to the best of their abilities, no matter how grave or awkward the question. Anzu didn’t like to sugarcoat her words, even if she wanted her child to be a child as long as possible, not confronted with the harshness of the truth…but on the other hand, she didn’t want her daughter to grow up too sheltered and naïve. She heaved an inaudible sigh.
“You see, someone is missing in that picture,” Anzu said finally and continued tucking little Sumi in, carefully smoothing out the blankets.
“Really?” The girl widened her eyes again, a trait she obviously inherited from her father. “How come he’s not there?”
“He… couldn’t make it,” Anzu said. “He had to leave.”
The girl mulled over these words. “Leave? Where to?”
“Someplace he couldn’t return from,” Anzu said and caressed her daughter’s cheek.
“You mean.. he’s dead?”
Anzu couldn’t help but smile, albeit a little forlorn. Their daughter had always been quick to pick up on things like this.
“Yes, he’s dead, Sumi-chan.”
“Who was he?”
“He was your father’s best… special friend,” Anzu said. “A very best, very special friend.”
“Is that why otou-chan is so sad when he looks at the picture?”
“Yes. He would love to see his friend also in the picture.”
“What was his name?”
“Atemu,” Anzu said after a small hesitation. “Atemu.”
“That’s a really weird name, kaa-san…”
“He was Egyptian.”
“Egypt-ti-an?”
Anzu smiled. “A land far, far away from here. Now you need to sleep, darling. No more talking about pictures.”
As she was getting up, Sumi blinked at her, cheeks a little rosy, eyes half-lidded with sleep. “What did Atemu-san look like, kaa-san?”
“Exactly like your father. Very slight differences,” she smiled at the memory, “his eyes were red, and smaller, narrower - and he had a few more golden bangs in his hair. But now it’s really time for bed,” Anzu added sternly, and het hand moved towards the light switch. “Goodnight, Sumi-chan.”
“Goodnight, kaa-san,” the girl muttered sleepily.
In his former-attic-room-turned-office, Yuugi stared at the monitor in front of him, noticing the words who failed to form coherent sentences. For all that his Pharaoh series was popular, it took Yuugi quite some time to complete a new book. The memories involved started to weigh heavier with every new chapter, and his fingers more often than not fell silent on the keyboard. The only sound in the room was the soft muttering of Sumi, who was on the floor with a bunch of coloring pencils and a few pieces of paper.
He was easily distracted by her, not that he really cared - his wife and his daughter were his everything, and just as Yuugi considered calling it a day and quit writing for now, his eyes fell upon…
…the picture on his desk. He stared at it. Something was different, it didn’t look the same as before. Yuugi reached for it and picked up the wooden frame. Somehow, before he had entered his office, Sumi had climbed upon his desk and removed the picture from its frame - to add another person to it with her color pencils. He had no trouble whatsoever to recognize him, despite the crude lines of a children’s drawing. She had used black to outline his face and hair, bright yellow to add more golden bangs to it, and a startling deep crimson red for his eyes. She had drawn Atemu right into the picture, next to his father, between Yuugi and Jounouchi.
With a blue crayon, she had drawn Atemu’s arm over Yuugi’s shoulders. A friendly gesture, as his other arm was around Jounouchi’s; just like all their friends were close, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. He could almost feel Atemu’s arm on him and he reached for his own shoulder, only to not feel it there.
Sumi beamed up at him. “Now your friend’s in the picture too, otou-chan…”
Moving from his chair, he picked his daughter up from the floor and settled her on his arm as he held the picture, eyes focused on the addition she made to it.
“Thank you, my darling. It’s wonderful. It really looks like him. He…”
He fell silent as he saw Anzu in the door opening again. She simply nodded, a wistful smile on her face, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Sumi didn’t notice as she was happily holding onto her father, and he would make sure their daughter wouldn’t see the both of them cry, even if it was in silence. Anzu knew what her husband wanted to say.
He looks so alive.