Who Let Him Play Yugioh? (Re-Upload)

Somewhere in the city.

At the end of a narrow, dimly lit alley, although right in the middle of the city, it feels completely isolated from the world.

This is a place only those who know the right way can enter.

A bar.

Soft lights cast dappled shadows on the surroundings. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and tobacco, and something even heavier and murkier. An old-fashioned gramophone plays a strange melody, each note seeming to blend into the ever-present shadows.

It’s as if an invisible darkness envelops the whole space.

This is a gathering place for shadow duelists.

But it’s not the only one. Although shadow dueling is still just a rumor among regular people nowadays—just as in the first season of GX, even Jaden and his classmates once believed in science and refused to accept the existence of shadow duels—in reality, so many years after the DM era, underground networks for shadow dueling have already formed worldwide.

Shadow duelists, like assassins who can’t show their faces, are scattered everywhere.

Many operate solo, taking on jobs through the underground network for money. There are also some organizations.

This development was inevitable. After all, shadow duels are incredibly efficient and versatile, leaving traditional assassination and espionage methods in the dust.

By dueling, you can eliminate a target without a trace, no guns are needed. If necessary, you can even add extra restrictions during the shadow duel so the victim is reduced to particles, leaving no remains at all.

And assassination isn’t all they do. If you can beat someone important in a life-or-death duel, you can easily pry any secret from them, or even brainwash them into obedience, influencing major events in the business or political world.

Of course, where there’s a spear, there’s a shield. The rise of this dark profession naturally attracted the attention of the upper class. These days, important people either have top-tier dueling skills themselves or are protected by duelist bodyguards.

This bar, named Blood Moon, is one such organization where shadow duelists gather.

The bartender is a woman with scarlet eyes and an eye-catching figure, generously displaying her assets to her colleagues.

That’s why, during meetings, ninety percent of the time everyone’s eyes are on her—even though she barely says anything.

A man in a suit at the bar slowly finishes his drink, sets down his glass, and says idly, ”One of our colleagues has left us.”

”Oh.”

”That’s a shame.”

”Too bad.”

Everyone expresses regret, but their gaze never strays from the bartender. She swirls her glass with elegant, practiced movements. The liquor spins in the glass, and her arm movements set the rest of her body swaying, prompting a chorus of ”oh” from those watching.

The man in the suit grows annoyed. ”We lost a comrade. Can’t you guys at least pretend to care?”

Someone pipes up, ”Aren’t you staring over there while you talk, too?”

The man ponders for two seconds, then says righteously, ”I can’t help it.”

The bar bursts into laughter, the atmosphere lively.

”But seriously, Genichiro was my good brother,” the man in the suit says solemnly. ”We knew each other before joining this organization. I can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

A guy with a center part tries to comfort him, ”We’re all in this business, we know the rules. Win and you live, lose and you die. So many duels, so many life-and-death moments. Sometimes you win, sometimes you die, that’s just how it is. Genichiro knew that too.”

”Besides,” another adds, ”do you even know who did it? Everyone in our line of work has a dozen or so enemies.”

”Before leaving headquarters, Genichiro was drinking with me the night before, and said he heard a rumor that the legendary duelist Rex Raptor was making a comeback.”

The man in the suit says quietly.

”Genichiro was very interested. Both dinosaur users, he’d always said he wanted to go up against Rex Raptor.”

”Man, that’s a legendary duelist,” says another on the center part. ”Are you sure about this, Fujimoto? Genichiro wasn’t weak; if even he couldn’t win…”

”Genichiro never beat me, either.”

The man named Fujimoto smiles slightly, stubs out his cigarette, and gazes upward at a forty-five-degree angle through the haze.

”There are times when a man just has to go for it. Besides, as duelists, if we’re always content with the status quo and never dare to challenge the strong, how can we ever improve?”

The other guy eyes him, ”If you’re so ambitious, why don’t you go challenge Yugi Muto?”

Fujimoto, in the middle of his grandstanding, chokes up, holds it in for a few seconds, and finally responds gloomily.

”Yugi Muto is way too strong.”

He meant challenging the strong to improve, not to die.

If you know your win rate is zero but still go, that’s just being an idiot.

Fujimoto sighs, reminiscing.

”Genichiro and I were both outcasts in the dueling world. We met through underground duels. I once promised him that if anything happened to him, I’d take care of his wife and kids.”

”But I never thought he’d go so suddenly, without even leaving a child behind—just a beautiful wife waiting for me to look after.”

So the matter of children will have to be handled personally by me, for my brother’s sake? At this thought, he shakes his head, sighing at life’s hardships.

A big guy pats his shoulder. ”Don’t be too sad, boss. If Genichiro’s watching from above, knowing he has such a reliable brother, he should rest easy.”

”You’re right.” Fujimoto pats his hand and nods.

Then suddenly feels a chill down his spine.

”Hm? Did you just feel a cold wind pass by?”

The big guy blinks, confused. ”Nope.”

”Weird… Could it be Genichiro urging me to avenge him?”

Fujimoto looks up solemnly.

”Don’t worry, Genichiro—I’ll find that punk Rex Raptor and drag his soul into darkness, avenging you!”

...

Elsewhere.

Since his crushing defeat at the Moonlight Cup, Rex Raptor’s comeback failed, so he went back into seclusion, studying his deck seriously again.

He’d thought he’d make a big splash this time but ended up making a mess of things. The king failed to return; instead, he handed his head to a rookie.

Especially since that rookie’s record was a complete blank before this tournament. Now, whenever people see the rookie: ”Whoa, isn’t that the guy who stomped Rex Raptor?”

The further that newbie goes, the more Rex Raptor’s name gets dragged through the mud.

Years in seclusion, only to fail and become a stepping stone—who could stand it?

”Fujiki Kira… Fine. I’ll remember you.”

Rex mutters darkly.

He has no choice but to find a chance for a rematch.

Until he wins against that kid, he’ll have to carry this stain, which will only get worse as the joke spreads.

As he thinks of this, his nose suddenly itches—”Achoo!”

He sneezes.

”Weird, why do I suddenly feel a chill?”

Rex rubs his nose, baffled.

Why does it feel like someone’s thinking about me?