A/N: In commemoration of Kokoro's one million hits did I write this. Yay, Kokoro! It was a bit slow, but whatever; we've got a success story. I'd like to have a beta-reader, but they are to come by their own volition and not by my instruction. Presenting the fourth installment of V-OBLIQUE!

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! trademark is the copyright of Kazuki Takahashi, Kagamine Rin of Crypton Future Media, and Kokoro of toraborutaP.

Theme #4:
Il Cadavere di un Angelo
Inspired by Kagamine Rin's Kokoro

"Brother, brother!" Mokuba cried as he banged his fists against the basement door. "Brother, let me out!"

Ultimately, however, he doubted his brother could even hear. Mokuba sighed; his brother can't be with him all the time, but to actually disregard his well-being was a completely different story.

"It's not his fault," Mokuba scolded himself. "You'd entered the basement and shut the door when you saw—" He paused. Turning around, he scrutinized the large metallic container that may have filled the entire room if not for a narrow walkway that tiled along its round side. The floor itself, however, was covered by strings of wire that led to plugs on the opposite walls.

Mokuba took careful steps as he crossed the walkway, his palm over the rusty metal. When he reached the center, he felt a crack, and discovered a door embedded in the shelter. He found the hinges, and a lever door handle. Standing in front of it, Mokuba pulled the lever and tugged the door backwards before leaning his head in.

There was darkness at first, but he can make out the wires that webbed the inside of the container, and, like a captured fly, lay a body at the center. Mokuba opened the door completely and light revealed to him a pale, young body.

Mokuba's mouth stood agape: a body? He never new Gozaburo to have any affection with children; he'd despised him and his brother from the very start. Maybe, he thought, he killed this kid before he took us in.

But Mokuba saw no wound. Poison? And why the bed of wiring? A more proper burial could have easily been paid for; a cremation was even cheaper. There was no danger of stepping into the niche and grabbing the body—a boy's—except that he may repeat the same mistake he'd done with the basement door.

Mokuba stepped back and left the door ajar before finishing the walkway and entering an alcove where the computers were built. The desk was quite messy; though clearly unattended for a long time. He noticed a red-skinned journal at upon everything else on this desk. He plucked it up and leafed through the faded pages. The entries were all properly dated, but they all said the same thing:

"Kokoro ga mada nai," Mokuba read aloud, and he murmured, "It doesn't have a heart yet. Or does it mean a mind? Or both?"

Mokuba continued flipping through the last page, to the last entry. He read, "To my miracle…no, to Noa…can you read this? Have you found your kokoro? I have not been able to create it. You'll forgive me, won't you? Though it turned out like this, I still believe that you are a miracle, because you can smile even without a kokoro. And a smile can make such wonders, let me tell you…" Mokuba turned the page again, and surely enough, there was nothing else written.

Mokuba returned to the hatch where the body slept, and noticed a stain on his—Noa's—face. Leaning his head forward, he identified it as rust: an odd line of rust that ran down his cheek from his eye.

"Impossible," he gasped, "he cried? But he had no—" He paused again, and reread the journal. He gazed at Noa's face, and a smile was indeed frozen on his lips.

And Mokuba grew still. It was not because of the epiphany of the whole thing, but of the uncertainty of his next move. Was he to enter this coffin and remove the body, or close the door? What of the journal? What of the room? Was he ever getting out?

Mokuba imagined he'd found an angel that God had missed. It was a frightening thought; lasting a night with such this beautiful corpse.

And yet, he could really do nothing but wait.

Wait for his brother to open the door for the outside, and for God to bring salvation to this lost child.

What a certainly frightening thought!