A/N: This my Blueshipping (SetoxKisara) fic for Computerfreak101's YGO writing contest. I have to say that I love and hate this fic to pieces. It's… bizarre to say the least, but I hope you understand it. I've always wanted to write a long drama fic.
Disclaimer: If it belonged to me there would be about two million more episodes and two million less card games.
Notes: Though the assigned pairing is Blueshipping, their will also be Euroshipping. It amuses me that I have written two different stories titled after fruit and both have starred Kaiba and Ryou.
Strawberries
Red. It streaked across the morning sky as the sun broke over the horizon, crimson fingers filtering though a window and stroking lazily though the tousled brown locks of a sleeping figure. They ran gently along his smooth cheek, illuminating the small twitches and spasms that marred his fair countenance as he floated from the realm of dreams into the limbo between consciousness and slumber.
Seto Kaiba groaned as he felt the first lights of dawn break through his open window, the curtains of which his housekeeper had once again neglected to close. Letting out a long drawn out hiss of frustration, the young man sat up and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his vibrant blue eyes, kicking the sheets away from his form and setting his bed-warmed feet against the night-chilled floor. The biting cold beneath his skin was not a pleasant sensation, but it served the purpose of shocking his senses and rousing him fully.
Seto did not appreciate having his sleep so rudely interrupted, and he growled many harsh things about firing certain staff under his breath as he shuffled his way to the glaring light.
If the man that stood before the window possessed any appreciation for the beauty of nature, then he might have noticed that the sun that rose that morn was a deeper shade of red than any he had ever beheld before in his life. It was as though the heavens were placing scarlet kisses upon the earth, painting everything in hues of crimson while the rest was bathed in blackest shadows.
But Kaiba never had a mind for such things. He drew the heavy curtains closed with an angry whip of his arms, completely dismissing the surge of recognition that ghosted through the shriveled thing that resided in his chest as his eyes glimpsed the outside world.
And the sky the color of strawberries.
--
Before the perils of his early youth had sunk their claws into his soul, Seto Kaiba had a heart. The thing that beat in his breast now, that dead, dry thing that resembled a raisin, had once been full of something deep, something meaningful.
Something like love.
--
She had come to him in a dream.
They stood in a field of yellow daisies, their bare feet buried in the cool, rich soil of the earth. She rested silently by his side, a pillar of pale white cast against the violently blue sky and the gently swaying yellow flowers.
He was a small child, a pathetic little thing that cowered in the shadow of her blinding presence. She was so beautiful, his adolescent mind could easily perceive the grace that rolled off of her form in almost pungent waves. She did not speak nor meet his gaze as his eyes roved over her form with the curiosity of youth. It did not occur to the child to wonder where the woman had come from, or how he had come to stand beside her in this sifting sea of nature's gold.
Suddenly the woman turned her head towards him, waist length blue-white hair caught in the breeze so that it fanned outwards in a voluminous curtain. Her face was almost too much to take full on, the unearthly grace of it all causing the confused child to stick his thumb into his mouth and suck it furiously for reassurance. He was not scared of the woman, but more afraid for whatever punishment he believed would be dealt to him for gazing upon her. It was as though he had been caught in some forbidden act, his hand still inside the cookie jar as an adult strolled into the room. He knew what usually followed such actions, and it frightened him to say the least.
But the deep azure eyes that looked down upon him were not angry or even stern. In their radiant depths, he saw a spark of something that mirrored the brilliant smile upon her face. Her expression was soft and sweet as she reached out towards him. And he felt so small beside her, so frail beneath that gaze that bespoke of wisdom and some other strange something…
She gently laid delicate fingers upon his wrist and drew his hand away from his face, his thumb from his mouth. Her skin was smoother and softer than the finest satin, and the small child couldn't help but notice the slightly dusty pink hue of her palm.
The color of strawberries.
--
Mokuba chirped happily beside him, his black head bobbing up and down as he chatted on and on about some silly little goings-on at his school. Seto only half listened to the speech, intent as he was about the most recent files he had received from his company over their latest release. Though, garnering even the slightest bit of attention from Seto Kaiba was a near impossible feat that many of his personnel considered to be the highest of honors.
So greatly regarded was such praise by his staff, merely because it was so rarely given. One could speak with Seto Kaiba for hours and hours and the man would be able to relay everything that had been said back to you with perfect accuracy and precision. But he would never hear you.
He would know the facts, understand the message you were trying to convey, but he would never listen to you. That gift seemed to be reserved for the shock of black hair beside him.
For if Seto Kaiba had a heart, then it only beat for one person. Him and him alone.
--
She never spoke to him.
They sat alone in that vast field of flowers, utterly silent with only the sounds of the wind rustling through the foliage to break the calm. Kaiba didn't mind the silence…not really. It felt…safe and familiar, as though sharing this woman's presence was a daily practice of which he had been somehow too busy to take part in until now.
He tilted his head so that he could peer at her from the corner of his eye, peeking out from underneath the shade of his bangs. She was not looking at him but up at the brilliant sky far too blue to be of this world (something in the boy's mind told him it wasn't) It was all almost too perfect- the warm breeze, the cool earth, the peaceful air unbroken by any revolting sounds…
The woman fairer than any goddess could ever dream to be.
She had noticed his stare. Brilliant sapphires fixed upon him, radiating with that strange yet familiar something that had no name…
Hair as pale as winter's first snow, eyes as deep and rich as the ocean's swirling depths and lips as lusciously red as fresh picked strawberries… She was far too beautiful to be of this world.
And something in the boy's mind told him she wasn't.
--
There were many things that Seto Kaiba preferred to do… managing his company, talking with his brother, challenging his mind with various games and puzzles…None of these things did he love to do, but he certainly chose them over other …less favorable options-like going to the beach. The only problem was that Mokuba loved the beach.
And Kaiba loved Mokuba.
He sat lazily in the shade of his beach umbrella, leaning back in his recliner with a sheaf of work documents settled in his lap. Mokuba had protested quite loudly that he put his work aside for once and just relax. The poor boy was obviously oblivious to the fact that "relaxation" didn't quite fit into Kaiba's vocabulary.
As he took a small sip from his water- having point blankly refused the fruity-tutee liquid-vomit with a little pink umbrella straw that had been offered to him upon arrival- Kaiba watched Mokuba splash happily around in the sea's crashing foam.
Kaiba didn't smile, it was as though his face muscles had never quite learned to do the motion correctly, but, as he watched his younger brother being swallowed by yet another wave as he attempted (and failed miserably) to surf on its crest, there was something like light that flickered behind his cold cobalt eyes and a warmth somewhere in the region of his stomach.
Seto hated the beach. He hated the way that the sun beat mercilessly down upon you, the salty sting of the sea spray that made its way into your eyes and the fact that sand got practically everywhere. But he found that he didn't quite mind it all so much as a black haired ball of fuzz raced up to him, his skin a blotchy, mottled red.
Mokuba bit his lip and refused to show his pain, though Seto could read it in the boy's dark, watery eyes. The elder Kaiba let out a small breath of exasperation, drawing his brother near and rubbing aloe over the whimpering child's seared skin, raw like the flesh of a strawberry.
And that thing, that shriveled, miserable thing that resided in his chest, beat softly.
--
She wasn't an adult
They stood side by side in that same familiar field, the wind whipping gently about them, tossing her gorgeous locks about like a cascading mass of rippling clouds. She was so beautiful and so…short.
The woman -no- girl was almost a head shorter than he was now, her deep azure eyes tilted upwards so that she might gaze into his own. Kaiba felt the breath seize in his throat as their eyes locked. The angle of her face caught the sun's rays perfectly her cerulean orbs so that they shimmered like molten sapphire.
Alight with that strange, familiar something that had no name…
The girl had to be somewhere around his age, maybe a year or two older. She didn't speak, but the intensity of her gaze brought fire to her companion's cheeks. She smiled gently up at him, the light reflecting off her brilliantly bright teeth and dazzling the poor boy before her senseless.
Kaiba felt himself gulp depressingly loudly in the near-silent field, and the heat of his cheeks radiated further up until his whole face was practically blazing crimson. And then something remarkable happened.
The girl laughed.
The sound was like water trickling over rocks in a small stream, like the musical soars of bird calls in spring, like harmonious chiming of bells in a light breeze…
And Kaiba felt himself laugh along with her. He didn't know why or what they were even laughing about, but it seemed as though the strain of months, years, decades or even millennia was finally lifted off his shoulders through the gesture.
He fell to his knees, his fingers groping at his sides as tears of mirth streamed down his face. The girl crumpled beside him, that musical laughter thrilling almost too loudly in the still of the clearing. And still they laughed on, falling on their backs and rolling around in the cool earth until their clothes were soiled with dirt.
Finally the noise died down to a few chuckles and giggles interspersed with heavy gasping. Kaiba turned on his side, his breathing heavy and looked upon his companion.
The girl lay on her back, her beautiful, unearthly eyes directed towards the sky. Her hair fanned about her like currents of silver ribbons, the fallen petals of the surrounding flowers sprinkled in throughout like flecks of gold. Her cheeks were flushed a soft, strawberry-red and a smile to stop hearts stretched her angelic features.
As if of its own volition, his hand drew itself inexorably forward until the coarse pads of his finger tips met the velvety soft skin of her face…
And Kaiba smiled.
--
The road was dark, the street lamps casting yellowish pools of light against the ebony sea of the scenery, outlining the passing cars for mere fractions of a second before the automobiles sped off into the gloom. Through the dismal night hour Kaiba drove, his long fingers clutching the steering wheel of his vehicle, his empty dark eyes mirroring the void that stretched out in front of him.
He did not know what had compelled him to go out on a drive, and that single fact frightened him slightly. Seto Kaiba was a man of logic; he did what he did because his brilliant mind ruled it to be a wise idea. Going out for a drive in the god-awful hours of the night for no particular reason definitely did not fit into the detailed mold he had composed for himself. The fact that he had acted on an impulse was worrying to say the least.
And what made matters worse was the fact that he didn't even know why.
Kaiba rounded a sharp corner, his mind lost in twisting itself up in thoughts while his body acted on autopilot, guiding him down familiar roads he'd traveled quite often. So lost as he was in his own personal conundrum that Kaiba didn't even notice the small silver car puttering ahead of him, cruising along at a much slower speed than his own…
WHAM
With a bang like gun fire the two vehicles collided. Kaiba jerked horribly in his seat, flying forward so that his scalp slammed against the steering wheel. The world was spinning around him in a black and gold vertigo, stars dancing across his vision as he rebounded backwards and crashed his back against the leather of his seat.
Moaning, the small, and still logical, part of his chaotic brain noted that the crash could not have been catastrophic seeing as his airbag had not depleted. Still, Kaiba grimaced, feeling something hot and wet trickling down from his hairline as his dead weight of a head lolled back and forth on a neck that had gone rubber.
Somewhere in the distance he heard the slamming of a car door and hurried footsteps. Suddenly the cool night air was assaulting his features as well as a slightly jumbled voice yelled a garbled statement into Kaiba's ear.
The brunet mouth contorted as he tilled his head away from the jarring noise, trying to focus his thoughts and assess the situation. He opened his eyes and gazed up into a familiar hazy face. Seto let out a sharp gasp, his heart seeming to have stopped beating in his chest. It couldn't be, it was just a dream that's all…it couldn't be…
And it wasn't.
As his vision began to right itself, Kaiba realized that the figure hovering above him was familiar for an entirely different reason. Ryou Bakura gazed down at him, brown eyes wide with concern, his white hair falling in disarray around his pale face. Kaiba noted the boy's busted lip and the scrape that trailed along his face from his temple to the corner of his mouth.
His still half-foggy mind concluded that Bakura must have been the person he had hit, but the boy seemed to be perfectly fine judging by the way he was now dabbing at Kaiba's face with some gauze he'd procured from the first aid kit in Kaiba's glove compartment (something Mokuba had insisted he kept in the car with him).
"Cut that out!" the brunet attempted to snap out, though it sounded far too soft to be intimidating. Still the pale boy relented, placing the gauze in the furious brunet's hand, the latter snatching it up and tending to his wound.
The two stood in awkward silence, Kaiba still half slumped in his seat and Ryou practically leaning over his lap. Finally Kaiba broke the tension more out of irritation than anything else.
"Why are you helping me? I hit you remember, or is it just a requirement of all Motou's friends to be idiotically heroic?" The brunet spat out sarcastically, glad that his statement caused the white haired male to back up a few steps.
"I apologize for having a soul Kaiba." Ryou's voice sounded as though he was attempting spite, though it just came out extremely pitiful. "You're paying for that by the way." He added, motioning towards the football-sized dent in the back of his tiny silver car.
Kaiba merely grunted in response, pulling the gauze away from his forehead now that he knew the cut had ceased bleeding.
"What were you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway Kaiba?" Ryou questioned, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I could ask you the same thing." Was the brunet's short reply.
"I have a job that happens to have long hours." The pale boy cut back, his brown eyes narrowing slightly. "I was going home, and you have yet to answer my question."
"I needed to think." Kaiba didn't know what made him say it. Maybe it was the fact that Ryou didn't seem threatening in the slightest, maybe his head was still reeling from the accident, maybe because the snowy white hair of the boy before him was slightly reminiscent…
"Does that thinking involve slamming into unsuspecting drivers as well?" The words sounded snide, but his tone was amused and a smile graced his features. He had a rather nice smile, Kaiba couldn't help but notice.
"Well, I'm going to head back home. Hopefully there will be no more homicidal billionaires on my trail this time." He turned to leave then stopped, facing Kaiba. "You're okay to drive right with the…" he gestured towards the brunet's head, still stained with dried blood. Kaiba gave no answer. 'I'll take that as a 'yes'." Ryou smiled before turning on his heel and heading back for his car. "I'll be expecting a check for that." He added, jerking his thumb towards the dent in his bumper.
"Wait!"
Kaiba didn't know what made him do it, perhaps the way his hair caught the light, glimmering like ribbons of silver… The next second found the brunet's long finger's curled around a pale wrist and a pair of wide, surprised brown eyes gazing into his own.
"Do you…uh…" Seto Kaiba did not stutter. Seto Kaiba did not fraternize with Motou's cheerleaders. And Seto Kaiba most certainly did not act on impulses…impulses…
Ryou's cheeks were flushed pink like strawberries.
"…Want to get a cup of coffee?"
--
She was beautiful in sleep.
She lay beside him, her near-translucent eyelids closed and her ample chest rising steadily up and down like the gentle rocking of a boat in a calm breeze. Her gorgeous lips were parted ever so slightly as she breathed, a soft cooing leaving her as she let out a breath.
Kaiba smiled, running his hand through her blue-white tresses. Smoother than satin, it glided gently between his fingers like water. His eyes lazily traced the contours of her figure, tracing the delicate curve of her neck and shoulders, around the lithe bend of her small waist and down her smooth legs till he reached the fragile carvings of her ankles. Every inch of her screamed perfection and it almost felt wrong as he allowed his lips to ghost over her flawless brow.
Five thin fingers curled in his hair, and he felt a cold stab of fear penetrate his chest. Had he done something wrong? But then the hand guided his head gently downwards till their noses were mere centimeters apart. Kaiba gazed into the depths of deepest azure, alight with that strange familiar something that had no name…
And the girl kissed him with strawberry lips.
--
When Kaiba awoke in the mornings, he felt that dead, dry thing in his chest beat ever so softly as he glimpsed the white mane of hair that lay beside him.
He would allow his lips to graze the shallow curve of a pale neck, his nose to breathe in the scent of the bedraggled snowy locks…
And as sleepy brown eyes flickered open, he would see that strange, familiar something that had no name lingering in their depths…
And he would ignore the icy stab to his chest…the twisting cold agony of…
Disappointment.
--
There were things that Ryou Bakura had wanted from the world: a stable job, friends, the annihilation of a certain parasitic being from his soul…
He wasn't quite sure when Seto Kaiba had been added to the list.
--
Ryou Bakura wanted Seto Kaiba's heart… all of his heart.
He knew this. He could feel this. He never missed anything. So it was the same for the stab of jealousy Ryou felt as Kaiba's eyes seemed to light up for one being and one being alone.
He never missed anything….He knew what Ryou wanted even if he didn't know it himself.
And he would give it to him.
--
The child asleep in his bed, his dark black head resting peacefully against his pillows as chest rose and fell gently in time with his breathing. So vulnerable…so weak…
A dagger glinted in the moonlight, a pale hand caressing its length lovingly.
Mokuba didn't even have time to scream.
Crimson splattered the walls and ran down the bed sheets leaving a stain that would forever linger. The small body twitched feebly before falling limp and lifeless, the sap of its veins coloring the tanned throat a delicious shade of scarlet.
The gore-marked blade met blood –spattered lips and a pink tongue flicked out to taste the strawberry juices that dripped over its surface. A crooked smile curled a twisted face, matched by a pair of hellish, frenzied eyes…
He knew what Ryou wanted even if he didn't know it himself.
--
She was crying.
The tears poured down her angelic face, glistening like diamonds against her ivory skin. The shimmering of moisture in her eyes made their blue depths dance as though the ocean was reflected in them.
She held one gentle white palm out towards him almost consolingly. Kaiba didn't understand the reason for such behavior until he felt a trickle of moisture fall upon the hand he had reached out to grasp her own.
He was crying too.
--
Gone. Gone. It was all gone. His heart. His soul. All were dead. All were gone. All were lying in a bleeding screaming, writhing mass upon the ground and he could do not but slowly die with them.
And that thing, the pathetic, shriveled thing within his breast, ceased beating.
--
Ryou reached a hand out towards Kaiba, needing to hold him, to soothe him, to do something to stem the bleeding that was flowing from every pore of the man's body. His very essence was leaking out of him as though he were some inflatable toy a child had poked a hole in and who was slowly observing the air gush out of it until it was nothing more than a crumpled heap of unintelligible plastic.
Kaiba slapped his consoling hand away, leaving a ghastly red mark against the pale skin.
Ryou could do nothing but watch as Kaiba lost his soul.
--
She kissed him.
It was soft and sweet, the edges lingering with salt as her tears poured down her face. Kaiba kissed her back just a fiercely, his hands forcing her closer, needing to feel the velvety soft skin, taste the strawberry lips, memorize forever the sweet smell of her downy hair….
Because somewhere in his soul he knew this was the last time.
--
Ryou wanted Seto Kaiba's heart…all of his heart.
The man lay in his bed, his long, lanky form looking pathetically small beneath the sheets. His face was strange in sleep…relaxed and at ease with a small smile gracing his thin lips…
A twisted leer stole over the crazed face, the sharp brown eyes hazy with the thrill of adrenaline and insanity. The knife's shimmering steel blade flickered in the waning light. Fitting that the same tool that bound earthly love with the hellish agony of loss should set love free from its bonds.
The wielder of love's liberation rose high before plunging into the unconscious man's chest. But Kaiba was not like his brother.
The brunet let out an agonized wail of pain, his blue eyes flying open as he was wrenched from whatever fantasy had eased his sleeping mind.
The leer of Death's face grew wider as he drew the knife across the man's chest, carving a deep hole into the center of his body. Kaiba screamed and screamed, his tortured cries mingled with Death's mad laughter.
The pale hand reached into the dying, writhing body and ripped out his still beating heart. The form upon the bed went quite still, his thrashing ceased and his blue eyes wide and unknowing.
The warm organ no longer pulsed beneath crimson drenched fingers, but its warmth still radiated. Pale hands gripped the squelching mass tightly, its juices oozing outwards in a delicious, ruby cascade…
Ryou wanted Seto Kaiba's heart…all of his heart.
A Bakura stuck the end of the luscious organ in his mouth, feeling the delectable gush of blood that trickled down his chin as he bit down.
Devouring Kaiba's heart like a strawberry.
--
The world would wake that next morning to the anguished cries of one Ryou Bakura. It would open its eyes to see the pale man crouched upon the floor, cradling the head of a mutilated lover as tears roved down his cheeks and he fought the urge to vomit. But it wasn't his lover…not really. Pale, bloodstained would make their way through tousled brown locks already slicked back with blood.
And if the man that knelt beside he dead body had not been tearing himself to pieces, then might have noticed that the sun that rose that morn was a deeper shade of red than any he had ever beheld before in his life. It was as though the heavens were placing scarlet kisses upon the earth, painting everything in hues of crimson while the rest was bathed in blackest shadows.
With a sky the color of strawberries.
--
A/N: Umm…Yeah…how about I explain a bit?
1. So I hope that you understand the main gist of the story here. The strawberries are supposed to represent Kaiba's heart. The things that he loves are often described as having something to do with strawberries. This is because in many ways the strawberry itself resembles a heart. It is also the reason why Bakura eats his heart like a strawberry in the end.
2. Kaiba didn't love Ryou. He could have cared about him, but the real reason he went out with him was because Ryou reminded him of Kisara.
3. Kaiba's dreams of Kisara have him steadily aging. He dreams of her almost every night of his life, so the first snap shot depicts him as a toddler, the second as a ten year old, and he just keeps getting older from there.
4. Bakura (That means Yami Bakura or Dark Bakura) isn't really the true killer. Kaiba was never really "alive" to begin with. His heart died with Kisara all those years ago, and the only reason he was still "alive" was because of his love for Mokuba. He really didn't have a heart to give in the first place. The true villain is really Kisara, who tormented him from beyond the grave and took away whatever happiness he might have had if he could just love someone other than her.
5. The look that Kaiba keeps seeing in Kisara's face is love.
6. Bakura only killed Kaiba because he was doing what Ryou wanted in his own twisted little way. Just like when Ryou wanted friends in the manga so he trapped peoples' souls inside miniature figurines so that Ryou would never be lonely.
I hope you liked this extremely twisted bizarre-o fic. I know I liked writing it. ^^