Of Gods and Glass Towers
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Gargoyles belongs to Disney/Buena Vista. I'd happily own both, but neither seems willing to give up the copyright.
Authoress' Notes: My first crossover fic, I got the idea for this at 4am while lying in bed and trying to fall asleep. Gargoyles was the first fandom I ever wrote fanfiction for, and YGO is the one I'm most familiar with.
Special Thanks: Vathara, for letting me use Seto's locket with the Eye of Horus on it. And for putting up with my questions, all of them. Christine Morgan, for clarifying where the PIT group came from. Matt Morwell for letting me ramble on and on about plot holes and timelines, and dutifully taking notes while I drove the car. I'm am truly spoiled.
No trees were harmed during the production of this fanfiction, however, a large number of electrons were seriously inconvenienced.
Prologue: Life in Miniature
Kame Game Shop
Domino City, Japan
Yugi mumbled in his sleep, pulling the blanket tighter around him, and buried his face against the pillow. Not now, he thought dimly, the sun's not even all the way up yet... With a mental groan, he tried to block out the voice whispering inside of him with a growing insistency.
The other voice was unrelenting, tickling at the fringes of his consciousness, and yet possessed a certain petulant whine that came only with familiarity.
Even a hikari can only take so much.
/Yami. I love you as the other half of my soul, but it's 6 AM on a Saturday, and if you don't stop trying to wake me up, I'm going to take apart the Puzzle, put it back in the box, take the box back to Egypt, and bury it in the sand./
For a moment, there was blissful silence, but then, //But aibou...//
/Near camels. I will bury the Puzzle near camels./
Horrified silence reigned.
Satisfied, Yugi went back to sleep.
Manhattan, New York
Ryou muffled a yawn conscientiously into the back of his hand, and tucked the novel he'd been holding in his lap back inside his carry-on bag. He had been reading, but after 13 hours on the red-eye flight from Tokyo to New York, the words started to blur together and he gave up. Now, he looked blearily out the round window as the plane taxied towards the hanger. In the pre-dawn light, the buildings of JFK International Airport seemed cold, grey, and unwelcoming.
He passed groups of people waiting to greet their loved ones as they came through the terminal, but didn't pause; there was no one waiting with his name on a sign, no one waiting to spot him amid the press of people all trying to fit through the same corridor. Once he'd cleared most of the crowd, he exited the building and chose a taxi from the parade of them waiting curbside.
The cabbie opened the trunk and Ryou hefted his suitcase inside, then climbed in the back. "The Regency Hotel," he said, repressing another urge to yawn.
"Park Avenue," the driver acknowledged, starting the meter. Ryou settled back on the patched seat and tried to keep himself from falling asleep by watching the stirring bustle of the streets. New York may be the city that never sleeps, he mused, but at least it's quieter at this time of morning.
The traffic was mercifully light, and so they arrived at the hotel relatively quickly. Glad he had exchanged his yen before leaving Japan, he handed the cabbie his fare and a tip. A bellhop greeted him as he climbed out of the vehicle. "Good morning, sir. Shall I get your luggage ?"
"Yes, please," Ryou answered, and the bellhop fell into step behind him as he entered the hotel lobby. The front desk was staffed by an older man, who looked up at Ryou's approach. The engraved gold tag pinned to his shirt identified him as the manager.
"Welcome to the Regency Hotel, sir. How may I assist you ?"
"Reservation under Bakura, please ?"
The manager checked the computer, and then slid a form across the counter. "Fill this out and sign here and here, please. Have you photo identification ?"
Ryou fished his license from his wallet, handed it over, and signed his name neatly. Watching him, the manager asked kindly, "How was your flight ?"
"Long," Ryou answered simply.
The manager nodded, as though hearing that answer often, and checked the signature with the one that had reserved the room. Ryou was glad that his father had registered the room jointly, knowing that the teen would be the first one there. The manager seemed satisfied with the verification, and handed Ryou a keycard. "You're in Suite 266. Elevators are past the lounge and to your right. Raymond will bring your bags up to your room."
Suite 266, as was the style of all the rooms in this particular hotel, was finished in mahogany wood, cream and marble accents, and traditional style wooden furniture. He turned and saw the aforementioned Raymond waiting politely for a tip. Too tired to calculate what an appropriate percentage would be, Ryou handed him a twenty and watched in weary amusement as the man beat a hasty retreat, probably before Ryou could ask for change.
I should call the museum and see what time the curator asked for the pieces to be brought over, Ryou thought blearily, looking around for the suite's phone.
//You should sleep.//
Ryou started a little, having not heard anything from his yami since he had gotten on the plane in Tokyo. He didn't think the spirit had fallen asleep -- indeed, he wasn't sure his yami ever slept -- but he occasionally would stay quiet for lengths of time.
/But, the museum --/
//Sleep.// This time it was an order, the tone brooking no argument.
With a sigh, Ryou acquiesced, laying down on the bed. /You're right. A few hours sleep would be nice./
There was no response, only a fleeting feeling of satisfaction of obedience, and Ryou fell asleep.
Kame Game Shop
Domino City, Japan
Two and a half hours later, he climbed out of bed and padded on sock feet down the hallway to the bathroom. Turning on the water, he splashed his face and reached for his toothbrush. A knock on the door made him jump, and he turned to find his grandfather standing in the doorway, beaming from ear to ear. "Good morning, my boy !" He said heartily.
"Morning, Grandpa," Yugi answered warily. He knew his grandfather was an early riser, but enthusiasm of this caliber usually meant he'd decided it was time to clean the Game Shop top to bottom, or alphabeticize the inventory, or something equally tedious and mostly unnecissary (in Yugi's opinion.)
Instead, Solomon Motou
thrust an envelope into his grandson's hands, the thousand-watt smile
unwavering, and exclaimed, "We've been accepted !"
"We have ?" Yugi asked, clueless.
"Yes !" With no other explanation forthcoming from the elder Motou, Yugi opened the envelope and read the typed letter aloud.
Dear Mr. Motou,
We at the commission board with to thank you for your application. As you know, the IBCGA hosts an annual convention in New York for game distributors. Although these are primarily for corporate store chains, we are happy to extend our invitation to you, under the Kame Game Shop. Enclosed, please find two permits, as well as a travel packet with hotel tickets. We look forward to seeing you !
J. Bremmer, Chairman, IBCGA Commission
Yugi suddenly understood why his grandfather was so happy. The IBCGA -- International Board and Card Game Association -- was something that his grandpa had tried to resgister the Shop for many times, and had always previously been rejected. As a personal business without corporate sponsership, repeated rejection notices had outlined that the Shop simply did not meet the qualifications.
Apparently, this had since changed.
"Congratulations, Grandpa !" Yugi beamed, and Solomon picked up the teen, toothbrush and all, in a hug.
"Have your bag packed by tonight, Yugi," the elder Motou said, "Our plane leaves Narita International tomorrow afternoon."
JFK International Airport
"Mr. Kaiba, we'll be landing in approximately four minutes," the captain spoke respectfully over the intercom.
"Good," Seto muttered, looking out the window of his private jet. Though the view was partially obscured by clouds and smog – some days, it was difficult to tell the two apart – he could pick out several landmarks he knew by reputation, and a few that surfaced as blurry memories. Neither of the two previous times he'd been to New York held particularly pleasant memories. The most recent being Pegasus' guest at the Inter-continental Championship, where he'd witnessed Pegasus beat Bandit Keith. Before that, when Gozaburo had taken him on a business trip, a few mere months before...
He pushed that stream of thought to the back of his mind, and instead leaned over and put his hand on his brother's arm, where the younger Kaiba had fallen asleep in the adjoining seat.
"'Nii-sama ?" Mokuba said sleepily, "... there yet ?"
"We're about to land," Seto replied.
Mokuba's expression changed to one of excitement. "Thank you for letting me come with you, Seto. I know it's your business trip, and I promise not to distract you," he said eagerly.
'You're old enough to come.' The reply almost tumbled out before he realized he'd heard that phrase before.
"You're old enough
to start learning more about KaibaCorp's international business, boy."
"Yes, Mr. Gozaburo, sir."
Instead, Seto gave his brother one of his rare smiles; enigmatic and brief, but genuine. "I wanted you to come," he said.
The plane settled onto the runway with a gentle thump.
Additional Information: The title comes from Gary Kasparov's quote, "Chess is life in miniature," and replaced the original prologue chapter, "Opening Moves". Please read and review.