(G, Setocentric. Betaed by Kari Izumi.)
Seto Kaiba wasn't entirely sure why he was out so late.
It was almost midnight, and most everyone in Domino City was asleep. He, too, should have been in bed, or at least in his office working – Mokuba would be worried if he knew his beloved brother was out wandering the town.
And wandering seemed to be the right word. He was just walking, without any sense of direction. Turn right here, left there – go down this street, pass that one by. He didn't worry about getting lost. He had GPS in his cell phone, and he knew Domino City well.
The skyscrapers towered over him, tall and dominant over everything else in the scenery. Some were totally black, and some were spotted with a few lights, and some were lit up like there was a star in every window. Disliking the lights that still lingered, Seto turned away to a darker, older area of town, one with less tall buildings.
He had originally left the office to get some fresh air, but soon his body went on autopilot and his mind wandering. After all, it couldn't hurt to get his mind on things besides his latest project, so that when he came back he could look at it with fresh eyes. He always paid some attention to his surroundings, though - it wouldn't do any good for him to have his pocket picked, or worse. Domino was a rough city, especially at night.
He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone back yet – he really should have been heading back, and it was far too late for him to be wandering. He was comfortable in the night, much more than he was usually in the day, with cameras and fans and people vying for his attention. Right now, it was quiet. Nevertheless, he decided to turn around and head back. It wouldn't take him more than twenty minutes to get back to the office.
However, Seto was distracted from that when he saw that he had been walking next to the large wall of one of the largest and oldest cemeteries in Domino City. He knew where he was, as he'd been there before. He usually went once or twice a year, in fact – Gozaburo Kaiba was buried in this cemetery, and Seto's absence would be noted on the anniversary on the man's death.
He wasn't sure why he went there on the man's death date – if it was simply to please the press, or to prove to the rotting man that he was still breathing, still winning their never-ending battle. (Because it never would end, it would go on forever, even after they both die and rot they'd still be fighting.)
Seto wondered if they would bury him next to his stepfather. He hoped not.
Seto wandered into the cemetery, thinking that it couldn't hurt to stay out a little longer, weaving around the tall trees and stepping over gravestones, and idly noting the state of some of the headstones. Some were in perfect condition, but some were so worn that he could barely read the name. When he got to Gozaburo's grave (as he knew he would – where else would his feet lead him here?) he noticed how well it had been taken care of. It was sharp and defined, and the inscription was still clearly readable.
He wasn't sure who had cared for the gravestone – it certainly hadn't been him. Maybe the cemetery staff, knowing he was famous and people would look, or perhaps a maid that he had paid some accidental kindness to once.
It didn't really matter, anyway. After time, the stone would wear and crack and crumble, and by then no one would care.
Seto wasn't sure what Gozaburo would think of his gravestone – that his last imprint on the world would be something so finite, so easily destroyed.
He snorted. That wasn't true and he knew it. Gozaburo's weapons would last longer than his gravestone, and the effects (scars?) he had left on people's lives longer still.
Whoever said time heals all wounds was a liar.
Seto scowled, hating the fact that Gozaburo still had an effect on him, even so long after his death. There were wounds, deep within him, that still bled sometimes. (He didn't like thinking about how most of those were his own fault.) He couldn't deny that as much as his actions were because of his love of Mokuba, they were also caused by how much he hated Gozaburo and wanted to defeat him (or maybe just his memory) and undo what he had done.
He paused, not knowing if the actions he wanted to reverse where his stepfather's or his own. Then again, there was a certain point where it was hard to tell who was responsible for what had happened.
Seto wasn't sure why he was thinking so much about his stepfather. He didn't usually – there were already enough things for him to think about, and to think about Gozaburo (past the memories that came and he brushed out of his mind) would be a distraction that he didn't want.
Seto paused for a moment, sensing a shard of untruth in that belief. Or maybe not so much 'untrue' as 'incomplete'. He knelt down on the grave, thinking.
It was true that thoughts of Gozaburo were a distraction – extra thoughts that took up unnecessary space in his mind. (And Seto Kaiba was little if not efficient.) But was that all?
Was he…afraid?
Seto wasn't sure where that thought had come from, and he scowled deeper. He wasn't afraid. But he couldn't deny that those thoughts caused him a certain…discomfort. A hesitance that he usually obeyed.
He shook his head. It didn't matter why he didn't like thinking about Gozaburo – the man wasn't worth his thoughts, anyway. Or so he told himself. .
Standing, Seto turned to leave. He should have left a long time ago, before he had gotten distracted.
He wasn't sure why he had stayed so long in the first place. He had more important things to do, and he had spent long enough out of the office that he would be able to focus on his work. He reached the foot of the grave when a thought he had earlier came back to haunt him like the memory of his stepfather so often did.
Are you afraid?
He shook his head. There was no reason to be thinking that. He wasn't afraid, and that was that.
Once again, he paused, sensing untruth in that. But how could that be untrue? He wasn't afraid of Gozaburo. He could defeat Gozaburo, and had before. (But at what a cost!)
And it certainly had cost him much to defeat Gozaburo. His happiness, his love for his brother, even his sanity had to be tossed away to the wind, instead of forming the armor that they should have been. He had thought that he was giving up weak points, destroying things that could be used against him, but later he found he was ripping off the only protection he had, the only things that made and kept him human. The only things that kept him from being Gozaburo.
When the battle between the two of them reached its climax, they were two demons locked in battle, differing only in what they were fighting for, and in the end, not even that.
But that was then. Things were different now. He was different now.
...Because he was, wasn't he?
Seto shook off the thoughts, the little voice in the back of his head that told him that not all darkness could be cast out...
Suddenly some two pieces of a puzzle clicked together in Seto's mind. He understood why he was so hesitant, what was so untrue. He turned back to face the grave and, softly so that only he and any spirits around could hear, he whispered,
"That's it…I'm not afraid of you, I'm afraid of becoming you."
That had to be it. And it wasn't like it hadn't happened before – Seto remembered the hatred that had consumed him, the jealousy and the evil and the tournament named "Death". He had become that which he hated – ruthless and heartless, cold, and caring about no one as long as his goal was achieved. He had truly become Gozaburo's perfect clone, his perfect successor.
Seto didn't like thinking about that. He did anyway, but he didn't like doing it.
But then there was a ridiculously skilled boy, a loss that should never have happened but needed to, and six long months in the shadows with nothing but shattered pieces of his glass heart for company. And now he was different.
But Seto wasn't really sure that he was. It could always happen again….
He shook his head, turning back again away from the grave. He really did need to go back to the office, and this sort of thinking would distract him from his work.
He walked out of the cemetery, leaving the grave and memory of Gozaburo behind. It would come back later, it always did, but for now it was gone. The city was still dark, covered with shadows interrupted with lit-up windows. As he got to a lighter area of town, he turned his thoughts to lighter things. Namely, his own light.
Mokuba had always been there, always shining, always loving. Mokuba didn't always make sense to Seto, but he didn't need to understand in order to know that his light was something precious, something to be protected at all costs. But it was only later, after so much of his darkness threatened to swallow him that he realized that some sacrifices aren't worthy of the cause, and some protections destroy what they're supposed to defend.
It should have broken at Death-T, Seto realized, the belief and trust that Mokuba had in him. It should have shattered and crumbled like his heart did in the shadows. After that, Mokuba should have hated him, abandoned him, maybe even killed him.
Seto still wasn't sure why he hadn't.
He didn't understand how Mokuba could still trust him, how he didn't hate him. Then again, he didn't understand how Yuugi didn't hate him either. But Yuugi was foolish, trusting and naïve. All the things that Mokuba wasn't, or at least shouldn't have been. He should have known better. He should have learned better. After their birth parents, the orphanage, Gozaburo and Death-T, he should have learned not to trust anyone. But Mokuba trusted anyway, and Seto didn't know how.
Then again, he wasn't really sure it mattered.