Donations + A Thank You
Sidelineâ°Stars, we have donated a total of $138USD to the Best Friends Animal Society! After nearly a year, this zine has come to full fruition! We have sent out all physical and digital copies to both our customers and our contributors, and have successful donated all our remaining profits to our charity of choice, a whopping $138!Â
All the mods are beyond amazed and grateful to each and every one who made this project possible, whether it was from the start or somewhere along the way. We couldn't ask for a better team and lovelier support, and we couldn't have created a more beautiful zine full of wonderful works by passionate and talent creators.Â
So, with shipping and donations completed, we now bring Sidelineâ°Stars to a complete close, so once again, thank you all very much for everything. Happy New Year's, stay safe and happy, stay Sidelineâ°Stars!
-The YGO Sideline Stars Zine Team
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Hounds and Jackals
[AO3] | [Dreamwidth]
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Sugoroku has lived a long and fulfilling life. He had seen many wonders of the world, up to and including his precious grandson. This was more than acceptable, and he gusted out a sigh, nodding to himself.
The Secretary General staring pointedly over the rim of her tea merely maintained her focused gaze. Her question, so bland it was nearly a statement, remained unanswered as he loitered over his own tea.
His distraction, made in the form of the stark, luxuriously sweet black tea common to Lady Ishizuâs home, was delicately savoured as the parry to the good ladyâs interrogation it was. It was a good blend, he mused, smooth and floral with just the slightest, bitter edge underlying the initial wash of honey on his tongue.
Much, Sugoroku thought, like the woman herself. It was an eponymous tea, its blending reflecting careful thought that both reflected Ms Ishtarâs roots and her ambitious archaeological career. This would be a delicately-wrought game, indeed, and he would need to watch his step lest he fall down some unerring trap.
Sugoroku smiled into his tea, How delightful.
He set his cup down with a delicate clink, relishing the placid crocodile stare of his opponent as he acknowledged his turnâs battle phase. âNeither I nor any of my family members are grave robbers of any sort.â
The near-silent sigh drawn out of Egyptâs premier hunter of repatriating cultural artefacts was its own admission of turn player changing, and it made him lean back into his chair with an intrigued slouch. Seeing Ms Ishtarâs hand being shuffled around in response to his riposte was its own unique gamble, and he could see she was a skilled player, scarcely a ripple of emotion across her face as she offered a refill of Sugorokuâs cup before her own.
âNo, thank you, Your Excellency,â He said, a congenial tone to the polite shake of his head. The glacial reprovement visible on Ms Ishtarâs face nearly makes him chortle, but he managed to restrain himself to an arguably gregarious smile.
âAs you wish, Mister Mouto,â She replied, expression warming to somewhere in the neighborhood of dispassionate. The steaming arc of tea was an enviable curve, elegant even as it displayed the quality of the Secretary Generalâs tea service.
Their repast lasted several moments more, taken in relative silence between cups of tea and the delightful assortment of pastries and cookies arrayed on a silver platter off to their side. Sugoroku transferred a piece of basbĹŤsah to his dessert plate, sighing in satisfaction at the taste of the soft cake. Truly, ever since he had left Egypt because of his last game, it had been a trial to eat genuine food from the country without leaving his home.
Though, given the nearly unblinking stare of his hostess, perhaps he should have braved the land of the pharaohs for another bite. Itâs not like his path didnât get him a partially unwilling audience with an astute, beautiful womanâ that sort of opportunity was once in a lifetime. Sugoroku chewed thoughtfully, thinking of his dear wife. Perhaps twice in a lifetime.
He was certainly a lucky man.
Well, this seemed a ripe opportunity to pay his dues, even if Ms Ishtar had levered some frightfully egregious accusations to him and his lineage. Sugoroku paused long enough to take another bite of basbĹŤsah, washing it down with his tea that had taken on a caramel tone in conjunction to his chosen dessert.
âYour Excellency,â Sugoroku opened his turn, if only to see the slight lapse in sternness as Ishizu Ishtarâs eye faintly twitched, âThere has been no theft.â
Her Excellency, poised admirably as she was, brokered a pause in her tea. The Tauk glimmered at her collar, a similar sheen to the womanâs eyes as she decided her next step. Perhaps she already knew how this conversation would endâbut then again, half the journey was the trip, and he fully intended to enjoy participating in one of the first robust games since his archaeological retirement so long ago.
âThere was no record of the Millennium Puzzle leaving the country.â Was her decided, plainly-laid joust.
Sugoroku hummed, curiosity in the tilt of his brows, âWas there a record of it at all?â
A sharp intake of breath. Aha , he thought, toasting his cup to her, Youâll need a different angle, dear general.
He pressed his offensive with a glib observation, âThe pharaoh chooses his own destiny.â
Ms Ishtar gave him a sour look, only faintly noticeable in the tenseness of her brow. After a moment of tense stand-off, she sighed, breaking her professionally-unsettling gaze to select one of the many expertly-arranged pieces of baklava.
Sugoroku nodded, accepting the repast for the counter that was. The tone of their silence was tinged with a more mutual mood of observing this battlefield, his latest strike shifting the terrain. Her baklava was eaten thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the pastâlikely on the juxtaposition of rules he presented her with.
For surely, if the owner consented to their property leaving the countryâas a gift, no lessâthen the Secretary General politely questioning him over tea cannot charge him with neither theft nor smuggling? It was, regrettably, a concern that said owner was long dead, but providential that one of the pharaohâs own guardians was also questioning him, in the same individual.
He grimaced faintly at his internal monologuing, remembering the corporeality issue his grandson was suffering as host to the pharaohâs soul. Ishizu Ishtar was her own person, and at best a reincarnation of the pharaohâs priestess.
As if catching his thoughts, Her Excellency glanced up, breaking her gaze on the past. She pursed her lips, back straight and looming as she weighed her judgement. âI believe,â She said, words careful and grave, âThat youâre a most honoured guest in Egypt.â
He grinned.
âDespite your dubious predilections,â Ms Ishizu finished, expression tilting into reprovement.
âWell,â Sugoroku said, lifting his cup in jovial admission, âAs the lady says.â
--
Author's Notes
This was originally a zine submission for Sideline Stars (on tumblr as @ygosszine), which ran during 2021. Another Ishizu-centric fic of mine, dbḼt-Ḽtp, was actually written after this one - pertinent because I had realized the worldbuilding issues of Ishizu's status within the SCA and attempted to course-correct in that fic where I had stumbled in this one. Nevertheless, the plot should be intact here, and I immensely enjoyed two characters that were so crucial to DM's plot and yet likewise remained as beloved side characters.
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