The tournament registration office was located in a building that looked like it had been designed by someone who had seen a skyscraper once, from a great distance, and had then tried to recreate it from memory while suffering from a high fever and an unhealthy obsession with chrome.
It was shiny.
It was tall.
It had more glass panels than any building reasonably needed.
And it was absolutely full of duelists who looked like they actually knew what they were doing.
Takeda stood outside for approximately fifteen minutes, watching people come and go, trying to work up the courage to enter. Every single person who walked through those gleaming doors had a duel disk that wasn't held together by tape. Every single one of them had hair that defied at least three laws of physics. Every single one of them walked with the confident stride of someone whose deck contained cards that had actual synergy.
The Kuriboh on his shoulder made an encouraging sound.
"Easy for you to say," Takeda muttered. "You're a floating ball of fluff. No one's going to judge you for your life choices."
"Kuri," the Kuriboh said, in a tone that suggested it was judging him quite harshly for his current choices, actually.
"Fine. Fine! I'm going in. I'm registering for the tournament. I'm going to humiliate myself in front of the entire city, but at least I'll have tried. That counts for something, right?"
"Kuri kuri."
"That didn't sound like agreement."
The Kuriboh didn't deign to respond.
Takeda took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked into the building.
The interior was even more intimidating than the exterior. Holographic displays covered every wall, showing highlights from famous duels, advertisements for booster packs, and what appeared to be a live feed of a duel happening somewhere else in the city. A massive Blue-Eyes White Dragon hologram dominated the center of the lobby, roaring silently at anyone who dared to approach.
The registration desk was at the far end, staffed by a bored-looking woman with hair that was a completely normal shade of brown and styled in a completely normal way. She was, Takeda realized, the first person he'd seen in this world who looked like she might have existed in his old world.
He walked up to the desk.
The woman looked at him.
Her eyes moved from his face to his clothes to his duel disk, and her expression shifted from bored to something that might have been pity or might have been mild disgust. Possibly both.
"Registration?" she asked, in the tone of someone who already knew the answer and was dreading it.
"Yes, please."
"Name?"
"Takeda. Just... Takeda."
The woman typed something into her computer. Her eyes flicked to the screen, then back to him, then back to the screen.
"You're not in our system."
"I've never competed before."
"Obviously." She sighed and pulled out a form. "Fill this out. Entry fee is five hundred yen."
Takeda's heart sank.
"Five hundred yen?"
"Five hundred yen."
He had twenty yen in his pocket. Twenty yen and an expired energy drink in his stomach and a Kuriboh on his shoulder and absolutely no way to pay the registration fee.
"I don't suppose," he said carefully, "there's a... reduced rate? For first-time competitors? Who are experiencing financial difficulties?"
The woman looked at him for a long moment.
Then she looked at his duel disk.
Then she looked at the Kuriboh on his shoulder.
Then she sighed again, more heavily this time, and reached under the desk.
"Charity cases," she muttered, pulling out a different form. "Every tournament, there's at least one. You're lucky the Kaiba Corporation sponsors slots for 'economically disadvantaged duelists.' It's a tax thing, apparently. Sign here, here, and here. You'll be entered in the preliminary rounds. If you lose three times, you're out. If you somehow win enough matches to make it to the main tournament, you'll receive a proper duelist stipend."
Takeda signed where she indicated, not entirely believing his luck.
Then he remembered that he apparently had supernatural luck that he wasn't aware of, and he wondered if this was it activating, and then he decided not to question free things when free things presented themselves.
"There," he said, sliding the form back. "I'm registered?"
"You're registered." The woman stamped the form with more force than was strictly necessary. "Preliminary rounds start tomorrow at nine AM in the Central Duel Arena. Don't be late. Don't embarrass yourself too badly. And for the love of all that is holy, please get a functional duel disk before then. That thing looks like it's going to explode."
"It probably is," Takeda admitted.
The woman stared at him.
"That was supposed to be hyperbole."
"I know."
She stared at him for another long moment, then shook her head and gestured toward the exit.
"Go. Practice. Do something. Just... go."
Takeda went.
The problem with practicing, Takeda reflected as he wandered through the streets of Domino City, was that it required having someone to practice with.
He had no friends.
He had no money to pay for practice time at one of the many duel arenas scattered throughout the city.
He had no reputation that might convince someone to spar with him willingly.
What he did have was a deck of living cards that wanted him to succeed, a Kuriboh that refused to leave his shoulder, and approximately eighteen hours before the preliminary rounds began.
"Okay," he said to himself, "how hard can it be to find someone willing to duel? This is Yu-Gi-Oh world. People duel constantly. Someone must be willing to fight a random homeless-looking guy with a terrible deck."
As if in answer to his rhetorical question, the universe provided.
"HEY! YOU!"
Takeda turned.
A boy—maybe ten or eleven years old, with bright orange hair that stuck up in random directions like he'd lost a fight with an electrical socket—was pointing at him with the intensity of someone who had found their mortal enemy.
"ME?" Takeda asked, looking around to make sure there wasn't someone more duel-worthy behind him.
"YOU!" the boy confirmed. "I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO DUEL ALL DAY AND EVERYONE KEEPS RUNNING AWAY! BUT YOU LOOK WEAK ENOUGH THAT I MIGHT ACTUALLY WIN! PREPARE YOURSELF!"
Takeda blinked.
"Did you just challenge me to a duel because I look weak?"
"YES!"
"That's... actually the most honest thing anyone has said to me since I got here."
"STOP STALLING! DUEL ME!"
The boy was already activating his duel disk—a battered but functional model that was still significantly better than Takeda's tape-wrapped catastrophe—and his eyes were burning with the kind of determination that only children who had never experienced true failure could muster.
Takeda looked at the Kuriboh on his shoulder.
The Kuriboh made an encouraging noise.
Fight, the voices of his deck whispered. Even if you lose, you will learn. And we will learn with you.
"Fine," Takeda said, activating his own duel disk and praying that it wouldn't immediately fall apart. "Let's do this. What are the terms?"
"If I win, you give me your best card!"
Takeda thought about his deck. His best card was probably Raigeki or Dark Hole, both of which he could not afford to lose.
"And if I win?"
"THAT WON'T HAPPEN!"
"Humor me."
The boy thought for a moment, his face scrunching up in concentration.
"If you win... I'll give you a card too! Any card you want from my deck!"
"Deal."
The duel disks hummed to life.
Well, the boy's duel disk hummed to life. Takeda's duel disk made a noise that was somewhere between a wheeze and a death rattle, but it technically activated, which was more than he'd been expecting.
DUEL!
Turn 1 - Boy
"I'LL GO FIRST!" the boy announced, drawing his card with far more dramatic flair than any child had a right to possess. "AND I'LL START BY SUMMONING HINOTAMA SOUL IN ATTACK MODE!"
A pillar of flame erupted from the boy's duel disk, and a creature made of living fire appeared on the field. It was... well, it was essentially a fireball with a face, floating menacingly in the air.
Takeda checked the stats on his duel disk's flickering display.
Hinotama Soul - Level 2, Fire, Pyro. 600 ATK / 500 DEF
Six hundred attack points. That was actually... not terrible. It was weak by any competitive standard, but it was stronger than most of the monsters in Takeda's deck.
"I'll set one card face-down and end my turn!" the boy continued, a holographic card appearing behind his fireball. "YOUR MOVE!"
Takeda drew.
His hand contained: Watapon, Mokey Mokey, Skull Servant, Book of Moon, and Mirror Force.
Mirror Force. If the boy attacked, he could destroy all attack position monsters on the opponent's field. That was useful.
But he needed something on the field first.
"I summon Skull Servant in defense mode," Takeda said, placing the card on his duel disk.
A skeleton in a purple robe materialized on the field, immediately crouching into a defensive position. It looked almost apologetic about its own existence.
Skull Servant - Level 1, Dark, Zombie. 300 ATK / 200 DEF
"AND I'll set two cards face-down," Takeda continued, placing Mirror Force and Book of Moon in his spell/trap zone. "Turn end."
Turn 2 - Boy
"THAT'S IT?" the boy shrieked, his voice cracking with incredulity. "THAT'S YOUR OPENING MOVE? SKULL SERVANT? THE WORST CARD IN THE GAME?"
"It's not the worst card," Takeda said weakly. "It has... flavor text. The flavor text is nice."
The boy stared at him.
Takeda stared back.
"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" the boy concluded. "HINOTAMA SOUL, ATTACK SKULL SERVANT!"
The fireball launched itself across the field, flames trailing behind it.
"I activate Mirror Force!" Takeda announced, flipping his trap card.
The holographic trap shimmered into existence—
—and then immediately fizzled out.
Takeda stared at his duel disk.
His duel disk stared back at him.
Or rather, it displayed an error message: TRAP CARD MALFUNCTION. ACTIVATION FAILED. PLEASE CONSULT YOUR LOCAL KAIBA CORPORATION SERVICE CENTER.
"What."
"HAHA! YOUR DUEL DISK IS AS PATHETIC AS YOUR CARDS!"
Hinotama Soul crashed into Skull Servant. The skeleton exploded into pixels. Takeda's life points dropped to 4000—no wait, defense position, so no damage. But Skull Servant was still gone.
"My Mirror Force," Takeda said quietly, staring at the useless trap card that was now being shuffled into his graveyard by his malfunctioning duel disk. "My Mirror Force just... didn't work."
"I'LL SET ANOTHER CARD AND END MY TURN! YOUR MOVE, LOSER!"
Turn 3 - Takeda
Takeda drew.
Penguin Soldier.
A flip effect monster. If it was flipped, it could return up to two monsters to the hand. That was actually useful.
But after what had just happened with Mirror Force, could he trust his duel disk to actually resolve effects correctly?
"I set a monster in face-down defense position," Takeda said, placing Penguin Soldier on the field. "And I'll set one more card. Turn end."
The Book of Moon was still in his spell/trap zone, though he had no idea if it would actually work.
Turn 4 - Boy
"MORE DEFENSE? YOU'RE SO BORING!" The boy drew aggressively. "I SUMMON RAGING FLAME SPRITE IN ATTACK MODE!"
Another monster appeared—a small, impish creature wreathed in flames.
Raging Flame Sprite - Level 3, Fire, Pyro. 100 ATK / 200 DEF
One hundred attack points? That was terrible. That was worse than most of Takeda's monsters. What was the point of—
"RAGING FLAME SPRITE CAN ATTACK DIRECTLY!" the boy announced gleefully. "AND EVERY TIME IT DOES, IT GAINS 1000 ATTACK POINTS! GO, RAGING FLAME SPRITE! DIRECT ATTACK!"
The tiny flame sprite zipped past Takeda's face-down monster and struck him directly.
Takeda LP: 4000 → 3900
Raging Flame Sprite ATK: 100 → 1100
Oh.
That was problematic.
"NOW HINOTAMA SOUL, ATTACK HIS FACE-DOWN!"
The fireball launched itself at Penguin Soldier.
"I activate Book of Moon!" Takeda shouted, flipping his spell card. "I'll flip your Hinotama Soul face-down!"
The spell card shimmered—
—and actually worked.
Hinotama Soul vanished, replaced by a face-down card on the boy's side of the field.
"WHAT? NO! THAT'S NOT FAIR!"
"That's literally what the card does."
"YOU'RE CHEATING!"
"I'm really not."
The boy grumbled but ended his turn, unable to attack with his now face-down monster.
Turn 5 - Takeda
Takeda drew.
Creature Swap.
His brain, which had been desperately trying to remember Yu-Gi-Oh strategies from his college roommate's countless explanation sessions, suddenly sparked with an idea.
"I flip summon Penguin Soldier!" he announced.
The face-down card revealed itself, showing a cute penguin in military attire.
"Penguin Soldier's effect activates! I can return up to two monsters to the hand! I return your Raging Flame Sprite!"
The flame sprite vanished, returning to the boy's hand.
"NO! MY SPRITE!"
"Now I activate Creature Swap!"
The spell card appeared on the field, showing two duelists exchanging monsters.
"We each choose one monster to give to each other. I give you Penguin Soldier—"
"YOUR PENGUIN IS TERRIBLE!"
"—and you give me your face-down Hinotama Soul."
"WHAT? BUT—BUT—"
The monsters switched sides. The penguin waddled over to the boy's side of the field, while the face-down card slid over to Takeda's.
"Now I'll flip summon Hinotama Soul!"
The fireball reappeared, now on Takeda's side.
"And I'll use it to attack Penguin Soldier!"
"BUT THAT'S MY—I MEAN YOUR—I MEAN—"
Hinotama Soul launched itself at the penguin. The penguin exploded.
Boy LP: 4000 → 3700
"Yes!" Takeda pumped his fist. "I did a strategy! That was actual strategy!"
Well done, the voices of his deck whispered, sounding genuinely pleased. You are learning.
The Kuriboh on his shoulder made an approving sound.
"I'll set Watapon in defense mode and end my turn."
Turn 6 - Boy
The boy drew, his face red with frustration and embarrassment.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART? WELL I'LL SHOW YOU! I SUMMON LITTLE CHIMERA IN ATTACK MODE!"
A small cat-like creature with flames for a mane appeared.
Little Chimera - Level 2, Fire, Beast. 600 ATK / 550 DEF
"LITTLE CHIMERA INCREASES THE ATK OF ALL FIRE MONSTERS BY 500 AND DECREASES THE ATK OF ALL WATER MONSTERS BY 400!"
Hinotama Soul ATK: 600 → 1100
Little Chimera ATK: 600 → 1100
Raging Flame Sprite ATK: 100 → 600 (still in hand)
Takeda's own Hinotama Soul had become stronger... but so had the boy's monsters.
"NOW I SUMMON RAGING FLAME SPRITE AGAIN!"
Raging Flame Sprite ATK: 600 (after Little Chimera boost)
"RAGING FLAME SPRITE, DIRECT ATTACK!"
The sprite zipped past Hinotama Soul and struck Takeda.
Takeda LP: 3900 → 3300
Raging Flame Sprite ATK: 600 → 1600
"LITTLE CHIMERA, ATTACK HIS HINOTAMA SOUL!"
Wait, but both monsters had 1100 attack—
The two monsters clashed in a burst of flame. Both exploded simultaneously.
Takeda LP: 3300
Boy LP: 3700
"MY CHIMERA!" the boy wailed.
"That's what happens when you attack a monster with equal attack points," Takeda said. "Both get destroyed."
"I KNEW THAT! I WAS TESTING YOU!"
"Sure."
"END TURN!"
Turn 7 - Takeda
Takeda drew.
Baby Dragon.
He looked at his hand. Mokey Mokey. Baby Dragon. No way to deal with a Raging Flame Sprite that now had 1600 ATK and would gain another 1000 if it attacked again.
"I summon Baby Dragon in defense mode," Takeda said, placing the card on the field.
A cute orange dragon appeared, curling up defensively.
Baby Dragon - Level 3, Wind, Dragon. 1200 ATK / 700 DEF
"I'll also flip Watapon into defense mode and end my turn."
Turn 8 - Boy
"RAGING FLAME SPRITE, DIRECT ATTACK!"
The sprite flew past both of Takeda's monsters.
Takeda LP: 3300 → 1700
Raging Flame Sprite ATK: 1600 → 2600
"YOUR MONSTERS CAN'T PROTECT YOU FROM MY SPRITE! AND NOW IT HAS 2600 ATTACK! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT THAT?"
Takeda had no idea what he was going to do about that.
Turn 9 - Takeda
Takeda drew.
Dark Hole.
Finally, something that could turn this around.
"I activate Dark Hole!" Takeda announced. "This card destroys ALL monsters on the field!"
A massive vortex appeared, sucking in every monster—Baby Dragon, Watapon, and most importantly, the 2600 ATK Raging Flame Sprite.
"NO! MY SPRITE!"
The field was empty.
Takeda LP: 1700
Boy LP: 3700
He was still behind in life points, but at least the immediate threat was gone.
"I summon Mokey Mokey in attack mode!"
The rectangular fairy appeared, looking utterly indifferent to its own existence.
Mokey Mokey - Level 1, Light, Fairy. 300 ATK / 100 DEF
"Mokey Mokey, direct attack!"
The rectangle floated forward and bumped into the boy.
Boy LP: 3700 → 3400
"THAT BARELY DID ANYTHING!"
"It did 300 damage. That's something."
"THAT'S NOTHING!"
"It's 300 more than nothing."
Turn 10 - Boy
"I'LL SHOW YOU! I SUMMON BLAZING INPACHI IN ATTACK MODE!"
A wooden figure wreathed in flames appeared on the field.
Blazing Inpachi - Level 4, Fire, Pyro. 1850 ATK / 0 DEF
Eighteen hundred and fifty attack points.
That was... significantly more than Mokey Mokey's 300.
"BLAZING INPACHI, ATTACK MOKEY MOKEY!"
The flaming wooden creature charged forward. Mokey Mokey didn't even attempt to dodge. It just sort of accepted its fate, because that was what Mokey Mokey did.
Takeda LP: 1700 → 150
"HAHAHA! YOU HAVE ONLY 150 LIFE POINTS LEFT! ONE MORE ATTACK AND YOU'RE FINISHED!"
Takeda looked at his hand.
Ojama Yellow.
That was it. That was his entire hand. Ojama Yellow, with 0 ATK and 1000 DEF.
Trust us, the voices of his deck whispered. Draw. Believe.
Takeda drew.
Turn 11 - Takeda
He looked at the card.
Polymerization.
His heart sank. He had Polymerization, but no fusion materials. Baby Dragon was in the graveyard, not in his hand or on the field. And even if he could somehow get it back, he didn't have Time Wizard to fuse with it.
But wait.
The voices had said something about fusing without proper materials. About believing hard enough that the rules would bend.
Now, the voices urged. Now is the time. You are desperate. You are about to lose. This is exactly the situation we spoke of. BELIEVE.
Takeda looked at the Polymerization card.
He looked at his empty field.
He looked at the graveyard, where Baby Dragon rested.
And he thought about what it would mean to lose this duel. To have to give up one of his precious few good cards to this orange-haired child. To start the tournament tomorrow with an even worse deck than he already had.
Something inside him refused.
Something inside him said no.
Something inside him decided that if the rules of this world bent for people who believed, then he was going to believe harder than anyone had ever believed in anything ever.
"I activate Polymerization," Takeda said, his voice steady despite the absurdity of what he was about to attempt.
"THAT'S STUPID! YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FUSION MATERIALS!"
"Don't I?"
Yes, the voices said. YES. Do it. Believe. Spite the very rules of the game. MAKE THEM BEND.
"I fuse..." Takeda hesitated.
What was he fusing? He had nothing. He had Ojama Yellow in his hand and Baby Dragon in the graveyard and those couldn't possibly—
Anything can fuse with anything, the voices insisted. If you believe. If you need it badly enough. The universe will provide. It always provides. Because you are LUCKY, Takeda. Luckier than you know. Luckier than anyone has any right to be. Now USE THAT LUCK.
Takeda closed his eyes.
He thought about Blue-Eyes White Dragon. The most iconic monster in the game. The symbol of power and dominance. Three thousand attack points of pure, overwhelming force.
He thought about how much he wanted to summon it.
He thought about how much he wanted to see the look on this kid's face when he did.
He thought about spite.
"I fuse the Baby Dragon in my graveyard," he said, "with the Ojama Yellow in my hand!"
"THAT'S NOT HOW POLYMERIZATION WORKS! YOU CAN'T—"
"I FUSE THEM INTO—"
The world shattered.
No, not shattered. That wasn't the right word. The world... bent. Reality curved around Takeda's words like water around a stone. The air crackled with energy that had no name, no source, no explanation.
The Polymerization card in Takeda's hand began to glow with a light that had nothing to do with holographic technology.
The Kuriboh on his shoulder began to glow as well.
Every card in his deck began to glow.
And from the center of that glow, from the impossible fusion of a baby dragon and a yellow gremlin in a speedo, something emerged.
It was not possible.
It should not have been possible.
But it emerged anyway.
White scales, gleaming like polished ivory.
Blue eyes, burning with ancient power.
Wings that spread across the entire battlefield, blocking out the aggressively blue sky.
A roar that shook the buildings around them and sent nearby pedestrians scrambling for cover.
BLUE-EYES WHITE DRAGON - Level 8, Light, Dragon. 3000 ATK / 2500 DEF
The boy's jaw dropped.
Takeda's jaw dropped.
The Kuriboh made a sound of utter astonishment.
"WHAT," said the boy.
"WHAT," said Takeda.
"WHAT," said several passersby who had stopped to watch the duel and were now reconsidering every assumption they had ever made about the fundamental nature of reality.
"I don't—" Takeda stared at the massive dragon now hovering above his side of the field. "I don't know how I did that. I have no idea how I did that. This shouldn't be possible. Baby Dragon and Ojama Yellow don't fuse into Blue-Eyes White Dragon. That's not—that's not a thing."
It is now, the voices of his deck said, sounding extremely pleased with themselves.
"HOW?" the boy screamed. "HOW DO YOU HAVE A BLUE-EYES? ONLY KAIBA HAS BLUE-EYES! THERE ARE ONLY THREE IN THE WORLD!"
"I don't HAVE a Blue-Eyes," Takeda said desperately. "I just... made one? Out of a baby dragon and whatever Ojama Yellow is? This wasn't supposed to happen!"
The Blue-Eyes White Dragon looked down at him.
It made a sound that might have been amusement.
Hello, a new voice said—deeper than the voices of his deck, more resonant, more powerful. I am not normally accessible via fusion summoning. Especially not through... those materials. However, I was curious to see what was causing such a disturbance in the natural order. And I must say, I am... intrigued.
"You're INTRIGUED?"
You have an interesting energy about you, duelist. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Lucky in ways that defy explanation. I have decided to participate in this duel. Once. Consider it a gift. A taste of what true power feels like.
"That's very generous of you, but I actually have no idea how to use you."
...What?
"I've never controlled a Blue-Eyes before. I don't know any of its effects or strategies or anything. I just know it has 3000 attack points."
You summoned me without knowing how to use me?
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO SUMMON YOU! I was aiming for... I don't know what I was aiming for! Thousand Dragon maybe? This is my first actual duel!"
The Blue-Eyes White Dragon stared at him.
Takeda stared back.
The boy stared at both of them.
The Kuriboh made an awkward "kuri" sound.
Attack, the Blue-Eyes finally said, its voice carrying the weight of millennia of dragonic exasperation. Just... declare an attack. On the fire creature. It has 1850 attack points. I have 3000. This is not complicated.
"Right! Right. Okay. Um." Takeda pointed at the boy's Blazing Inpachi. "Blue-Eyes White Dragon, attack his... the fire... the wood thing!"
The dragon stared at him again.
"The wood thing."
"I don't remember its name!"
The Blue-Eyes sighed—an actual sigh, a gust of wind that ruffled Takeda's hair and nearly knocked the Kuriboh off his shoulder.
Fine. "The wood thing." As you wish.
The dragon opened its mouth.
White light gathered between its jaws—pure, concentrated destruction, the kind of power that ended civilizations and reshaped continents.
And then it unleashed that power upon "the wood thing."
The Blazing Inpachi didn't even have time to look surprised. One moment it existed, a flaming wooden creature with 1850 attack points and dreams of victory. The next moment it was atoms, scattered across the field in a blast of white lightning that left afterimages on everyone's retinas.
Boy LP: 3400 → 2250
"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" the boy wailed. "YOU CHEATED! THAT FUSION WASN'T LEGAL! I'M GOING TO TELL—"
"Turn end," Takeda said weakly, still staring at the dragon.
The dragon hovered above the field, looking majestic and slightly annoyed.
I'm only staying for this duel, it reminded him. After this, you're on your own. Don't get used to this level of power.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Turn 12 - Boy
The boy drew, his hands shaking.
"I—I set one monster in face-down defense position," he said, his voice much quieter than before. "And—and I set two cards face-down. End turn."
Turn 13 - Takeda
Takeda drew.
Sakuretsu Armor. A trap card that would destroy an attacking monster. Useless when he was the one attacking.
"Blue-Eyes White Dragon," Takeda said, "attack his face-down monster."
With pleasure.
The dragon opened its mouth again. White lightning gathered.
"I ACTIVATE NEGATE ATTACK!" the boy shouted, flipping one of his face-down cards. "THIS TRAP NEGATES YOUR ATTACK AND ENDS THE BATTLE PHASE!"
The dragon's attack dissipated harmlessly against a barrier of energy.
Annoying, the Blue-Eyes commented. But acceptable. This is what traps are for.
"I set one card face-down and end my turn," Takeda said, placing Sakuretsu Armor in his spell/trap zone.
Turn 14 - Boy
"I flip summon my face-down monster! FIRE SORCERER!"
A woman in red robes appeared, flames dancing around her hands.
Fire Sorcerer - Level 4, Fire, Spellcaster. 1000 ATK / 1500 DEF
"FIRE SORCERER'S FLIP EFFECT ACTIVATES! I RANDOMLY BANISH TWO CARDS FROM YOUR HAND, AND YOU TAKE 800 DAMAGE!"
Takeda had no cards in his hand.
"I... don't have any cards in my hand."
"WHAT?"
"I have zero cards in my hand. You can't banish two cards from nothing."
The boy's face went through several colors in rapid succession.
"THEN I—I ACTIVATE MY OTHER TRAP! JUST DESSERTS! FOR EVERY MONSTER YOU CONTROL, YOU TAKE 500 DAMAGE!"
Takeda had one monster. Blue-Eyes White Dragon.
Takeda LP: 150 → -350
Wait.
Negative?
TAKEDA LOSES
The Blue-Eyes White Dragon looked down at him.
You lost.
"I lost."
You had me. You had Blue-Eyes White Dragon. And you lost.
"I lost."
To a ten-year-old.
"I lost."
With a burn deck.
"I KNOW I LOST."
The dragon dissipated, returning to whatever realm it had come from, its parting words echoing in Takeda's mind: Don't summon me again until you know what you're doing. This was embarrassing for both of us.
The boy was jumping up and down in celebration.
"I WON! I WON! I BEAT BLUE-EYES WHITE DRAGON! I'M THE GREATEST DUELIST IN THE WORLD!"
Takeda stood in the middle of the street, surrounded by the holographic remnants of a duel he had somehow lost despite summoning the most iconic monster in the game.
"Kuri," the Kuriboh on his shoulder said sympathetically.
"Yeah," Takeda agreed. "Kuri indeed."
The boy demanded Raigeki as his prize, because of course he did. Takeda handed it over with the resignation of a man who had already come to terms with the fact that rock bottom was just the beginning.
And then the boy ran off, shouting about how he was going to tell everyone he beat a Blue-Eyes White Dragon, leaving Takeda alone with his shame and his Kuriboh and his deck that was now even worse than before.
"That went well," Takeda said to no one in particular.
You learned things, the voices of his deck offered.
"I learned that I don't know how to play this game. I learned that my duel disk doesn't work properly. I learned that even when the universe hands me literally the best monster in the game, I can still lose to a child with a burn deck."
Yes. Those are valuable lessons.
"They don't feel valuable."
They will. Eventually. Perhaps. Probably not. But you should try to be optimistic.
Takeda looked at the Kuriboh.
The Kuriboh looked back at him.
"Kuri," it said, which could have meant "I believe in you" or "you're pathetic" or "I'm hungry." The Kuriboh wasn't very expressive.
"Right," Takeda said. "Okay. One loss. That's fine. The tournament doesn't start until tomorrow. I have time to practice more. I just need to find another opponent."
He found another opponent.
He lost.
He found a third opponent.
He lost again.
He found a fourth opponent—an old woman sitting in a park, feeding pigeons, who apparently used an Exodia deck and assembled all five pieces on turn three through sheer luck and also possibly witchcraft.
He lost so fast he wasn't entirely sure the duel had actually happened.
By the time evening fell on Domino City, Takeda had fought seven duels and lost all of them.
His record was 0-7.
His deck was missing Raigeki (lost to the orange-haired boy), Mirror Force (malfunctioned during the first duel and never properly recovered), and three other cards he'd been forced to give up as ante in various losses.
He had gained nothing except bruises from falling over after losing too many life points too quickly, and a profound understanding of exactly how terrible he was at this game.
"Okay," he said, sitting on a bench as the sun set over the impossibly clean city. "Okay. This is fine. This is all fine. I have a tournament tomorrow that I am absolutely going to lose. My deck is worse than when I started. I still have no money and no food and no plan. Everything is completely, totally fine."
You're panicking, the voices observed.
"I'M NOT PANICKING. I'm calmly and rationally assessing my situation, which happens to be TERRIBLE."
Perhaps some card acquisition would help?
"Card acquisition requires money. Money requires winning duels. Winning duels requires cards. I'm in a loop. A terrible, inescapable loop."
Or... you could find cards that others have discarded.
Takeda paused.
"Discarded?"
Thrown away. Abandoned. Forgotten. In this world, many duelists replace their cards frequently, always seeking stronger monsters, more powerful spells, better strategies. The cards they discard often end up...
"In the trash."
Yes.
Takeda looked at the nearest trash can.
The trash can looked back at him.
Or rather, it was a trash can, and trash cans don't have eyes, but there was definitely something in there. Something that glinted in the fading light. Something that looked suspiciously like...
"You're telling me I should go dumpster diving for cards."
We're telling you that resources are resources, regardless of source. And your pride is significantly less valuable than your survival.
"I have pride?"
A small amount. We recommend discarding it.
The Kuriboh made an encouraging sound.
Takeda stood up.
He walked over to the trash can.
He looked inside.
And there, sitting atop a pile of burger wrappers and empty soda cans, was a small stack of Duel Monsters cards.
The first card was Petit Angel.
Petit Angel - Level 3, Light, Fairy. 600 ATK / 900 DEF
No effect. Just... a small angel. Looking very petite. Utterly unremarkable in every way.
"Great," Takeda muttered. "Another useless monster."
But wait—Petit Angel was one of the fusion materials for Fusionist. And he had Fusionist in his Extra Deck. Now he just needed Mystical Sheep #2, whatever that was.
He dug deeper.
The second card was Mystical Sheep #2.
Mystical Sheep #2 - Level 3, Earth, Beast. 800 ATK / 1000 DEF
Takeda stared at the card.
He pulled out his Extra Deck and looked at Fusionist.
Fusionist: "Petit Angel" + "Mystical Sheep #2"
He now had both fusion materials.
"Okay," he said slowly. "That's... that's actually useful. I can now summon Fusionist. Which has 900 attack points. Which is still terrible. But it's better than nothing."
See? the voices said. Resources are resources.
Takeda kept digging.
The third card was Silver Fang.
Silver Fang - Level 3, Earth, Beast. 1200 ATK / 800 DEF
A wolf. A regular wolf. No effects, no special abilities, just a wolf with 1200 attack points. That was actually decent for a Level 3 monster. Why would anyone throw this away?
He flipped the card over.
There was a small note attached to the back: "Replaced by Gene-Warped Warwolf. You served me well, Silver Fang. Goodbye forever."
Someone had written a farewell note to their card before throwing it away.
This world was insane.
But hey, free card.
He moved to the next trash can.
This one was behind a card shop that had closed for the night. The pickings were even better here—apparently the shop disposed of their old inventory regularly.
He found:
Firegrass - Level 2, Earth, Plant. 700 ATK / 600 DEF. A burning blade of grass. Also a fusion material for Darkfire Dragon, which he had in his Extra Deck. Now he just needed... wait, he already had Petit Dragon. HE COULD ACTUALLY SUMMON DARKFIRE DRAGON NOW.
Sangan - Level 3, Dark, Fiend. 1000 ATK / 600 DEF. When sent from field to graveyard, add a monster with 1500 or less ATK from deck to hand. This was actually GOOD. Why was this in the trash?
He flipped Sangan over. Another note: "Banned in tournaments as of last month. Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules."
Ah. Banned. That explained it.
Wait, if it was banned in tournaments, could he use it in the tournament tomorrow?
He'd have to check the rules.
He kept digging.
Mask of Darkness - Level 2, Dark, Fiend. 900 ATK / 400 DEF. Flip effect: add one trap from graveyard to hand. Not bad for recycling.
Giant Soldier of Stone - Level 3, Earth, Rock. 1300 ATK / 2000 DEF. A big rock soldier. 2000 defense was actually respectable.
Armed Ninja - Level 1, Earth, Warrior. 300 ATK / 300 DEF. Can destroy one spell card on the field when flipped. Situational, but potentially useful.
Castle of Dark Illusions - Level 4, Dark, Fiend. 920 ATK / 1930 DEF. A floating castle. Increased the ATK and DEF of all Zombie monsters by 200. Takeda had Skull Servant, which was a Zombie. That was... something resembling synergy.
Ryu-Kishin Powered - Level 4, Dark, Fiend. 1600 ATK / 1200 DEF. Finally, something with respectable attack points. No effect, but 1600 ATK for a Level 4 was decent.
He moved to another trash can.
And another.
And another.
By the time full darkness had fallen over Domino City, Takeda had accumulated a pile of discarded cards that was almost respectable. Most of them were terrible—vanillas with low attack points, effects too situational to ever be useful, fusion materials for fusions he'd never be able to summon. But some of them were actually usable.
He spread out his haul on a park bench and started sorting.
Keep:
Petit Angel (Fusionist material)Mystical Sheep #2 (Fusionist material)Silver Fang (decent attacker)Firegrass (Darkfire Dragon material)Sangan (if not banned)Mask of Darkness (trap recycling)Giant Soldier of Stone (wall)Armed Ninja (spell destruction)Castle of Dark Illusions (zombie support)Ryu-Kishin Powered (best attacker he'd found)
Trash:
A severely water-damaged Sparks that probably wouldn't even register on a duel diskHalf of a Monster Reborn (literally torn in half, useless)Something called "Oscillo Hero #2" that had 1000 ATK but also had a coffee stain that covered its entire effect textA trap card that was in a language Takeda couldn't read and might have been from a completely different card gameAn entire stack of Beaver Warrior cards, because apparently someone had opened a lot of packs looking for something better
"This is my life now," Takeda said to the Kuriboh. "I'm dumpster diving for children's trading cards in an anime world, trying to build a deck that can survive a tournament I'm going to lose anyway."
"Kuri," the Kuriboh said sympathetically.
You found Sangan, the voices pointed out. That's genuinely a good find.
"It might be banned."
Only one way to find out.
Takeda sighed and started shuffling his new acquisitions into his deck.
His deck was still terrible.
But it was slightly less terrible than before.
That was progress.
Sort of.
He found a relatively dry spot behind the closed card shop and settled in for the night. The Kuriboh curled up on his chest like a furry hot water bottle, providing warmth and comfort and a constant reminder that his life had become absurd beyond all reason.
Tomorrow, the tournament would begin.
Tomorrow, he would face real duelists with real decks and real strategies.
Tomorrow, he would probably lose three times and be eliminated before noon.
But tonight, he was alive.
He had cards.
He had a Kuriboh.
And somewhere, deep in his chest, underneath the hunger and the exhaustion and the lingering embarrassment of losing seven straight duels including one where he had managed to summon Blue-Eyes White Dragon, he had spite.
So much spite.
The universe had killed him with celery.
Then it had reincarnated him into the body of a poor, friendless nobody in a world that ran on card games.
Then it had given him a terrible deck and a broken duel disk and no resources whatsoever.
And he was going to make it regret all of those choices.
Eventually.
Probably.
Maybe.
"Kuri?" the Kuriboh asked, sensing his troubled thoughts.
"I'm fine," Takeda said. "Just... processing. Tomorrow is going to be rough."
"Kuri kuri."
"Yeah. I know. One duel at a time."
The Kuriboh made a satisfied sound and settled more firmly onto his chest.
The stars overhead were unfamiliar—arranged in patterns that hadn't existed in his old world, constellations that probably had names tied to ancient card game tournaments or legendary duelists. But they were beautiful, in their own strange way.
Takeda closed his eyes.
Rest, the voices of his deck whispered. Tomorrow, we fight. Tonight, we rest. And tomorrow, when everything seems hopeless, remember: you summoned Blue-Eyes White Dragon today. You lost anyway, but you summoned it. You made the impossible possible, even if only for a moment. That means something.
That means the rules can be bent.
That means we can win.
Eventually.
Probably.
Maybe.
Takeda smiled despite himself.
"Encouraging pep talk," he murmured.
We're working on it, the voices admitted. We've never had a duelist quite like you before. It's a learning experience for all of us.
"Great. We can learn together."
Yes. That is the plan. Now sleep. Tomorrow, we have a tournament to somehow not lose immediately.
Takeda slept.
And in his dreams, cards danced around him—terrible cards, wonderful cards, impossible cards that shouldn't exist and shouldn't work and shouldn't be able to fuse with each other but did anyway because he was too stubborn to accept that they couldn't.
The Blue-Eyes White Dragon appeared briefly, looking down at him with those ancient, knowing eyes.
You're interesting, it said. Weak, incompetent, and deeply out of your depth. But interesting. I'll be watching.
"Thanks," Dream-Takeda said. "I think."
Don't disappoint me too badly, the dragon said, and then it was gone, replaced by a swirling vortex of cards and destiny and the vague sense that tomorrow was going to be the most ridiculous day of his life.
Which, considering his life had recently included death by celery and reincarnation into an anime, was really saying something.
But that was a problem for Future Takeda.
Present Takeda was asleep behind a card shop, cuddling a Kuriboh, dreaming of dragons.
It was, all things considered, not the worst way to spend a night.
And tomorrow...
Tomorrow, everything would change.
For better or worse.
Probably worse.
But definitely change.