Hidden Hand
After the events in Egypt, life returned to a slow, steady pace. Mutou Yuugi and his friends continued to attend high school, Kaiba Seto immersed himself in virtual reality projects and the general supervision of Kaiba Land, and Pegasus J. Crawford embarked on a long cross-continental sojourn, fancying himself in need of a drastic change of scenery to improve his spirits and, perhaps, to find inspiration again.
The result was a new soon-to-be-announced Duel Monsters event. Oh, not some boring old tournament, but a promotional charity ball, designed specifically to showcase a series of brand new cards created and illustrated by Pegasus himself and to give the papers something actually worth writing about. Pegasus had not yet completely made up his mind about directly involving Kaiba Seto (Kaiba Corp had already begun updating its holographic library for the event as per their contract with Industrial Illusions), but one thing was certain: there must absolutely be a grand Gala opening.
Guest of Honor? The King of Games himself, of course. No one else would do! And so Mutou Yuugi was personally invited by Pegasus J. Crawford himself – on a personalized Funny Rabbit greeting card, no less.
However, Pegasus' efforts were in vain. Mutou Yuugi had fallen very ill and would not be able to attend, came the reluctant communication from Mutou Sugoroku over the phone. Pegasus allowed himself a disappointed click of his tongue and a short, dramatic sigh. He inquired after him, but Mutou Sugoroku offered no details and excused himself to tend to his grandson. The phone conversation was soon over and Croquet confirmed within ten minutes that Mutou Yuugi had, in fact, received a check-up at Domino Hospital two days ago. His results were less than stellar; he would have, at the very least, benefitted from a few days of admittance, were it not for the fact that Domino City Hospital was quite full at the moment and Mutou Yuugi could not afford treatment elsewhere.
Pegasus clicked his tongue again, shaking his head. Fame is nothing without fortune, is it, Yuugi-boy, he thought to himself as he produced another Funny Rabbit greeting card from a nearby drawer and neatly penned it, expressing his best wishes for Yuugi's quick recovery. He soon lifted a graceful hand for Croquet to pluck the envelope from his fingers, and once the door closed, Pegasus merely flipped open his day planner and crossed out Yuugi's name. Far from him to make a fuss over such a minor inconvenience. Somebody less famous would just have to do. Kaiba Seto, for instance.
The implications made Kaiba furious, of course.
Evening found Kaiba Seto by the glass wall of his office, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the rain-whipped trees, water gathering in the cracks of the pavement to light up into a myriad of shining scars. Domino surrendered to another stormy night, its colors washed away to leave but a mixture of dark and dreary blues that melted seamlessly into Kaiba's eyes.
There was a familiar sequence of small knocks on the door and Kaiba's lips twitched into a soft whisper. Isono. The office echoed with the smart grey taps of his smart grey shoes.
"Seto-sama."
The answer was a quiet hum. Kaiba would not turn, not yet; he didn't have to. His reflection lifted its eyes to Isono, motionless as though his every atom were fixed on him.
"I have checked with Domino City Hospital at your request, Seto-sama. There are no vacancies, nor do they expect any for at least another week." Kaiba quirked an eyebrow, twisting slightly to shoot a sharp glare at Isono.
"And what have you done to remedy the situation?"
"I have taken the liberty of consulting several patients, offering care by our own certified medical team. Tomorrow morning, Mutou Yuugi shall receive a phone call informing him that a single room had been reserved for him at Domino City Hospital and treatment will be entirely covered by… his insurance. The cost of one week's stay—"
"Cost is irrelevant."
"…Yes, Seto-sama."
Kaiba's face softened into a small, dry smile. What it meant or whom it was intended for, Isono could not tell. His own face felt unbearably tense, as though his muscles had been rigged to some direct token of affirmation and his Seto-sama had merely played a light finger over the trigger.
"Seto-sama…"
Another hum. Isono closed his eyes. He was about to ask why it would not have been easier to just directly offer medical care to Mutou Yuugi himself, but he felt he had found the answer, the real answer shrouded by obstinate, useless pride, and the idea wired his jaws shut.
"Will that be all, Seto-sama?" he forced out the words against the silence draped heavily between them. Kaiba hummed reflexively, his eyes growing dull as he turned back to the darkness yawning just beyond the glass wall, missing that small upward twitch of Isono's hand that he could not stop but quickly subdued.
"Good night, Seto-sama," said Isono, his voice low.
"Good night, Isono," came the quiet reply, and a moment later, Isono was gone.
The next morning, there was indeed a phone call, and Mutou Sugoroku watched with a heavy heart as his daughter began packing Yuugi's things, not having the heart to wake her son for such a small, tedious task. She picked out his best pajamas, gathered some necessary toiletries and searched the desk and drawers for small knick-knacks to make Yuugi's hospital stay more tolerable: his Duel Monsters cards, his music player, that lovely resin statue of the Dark Magician. As her hand fumbled blindly in the bottom drawer, her fingers brushed against the links of an empty chain – cold, dead metal. She shuddered and slammed the drawer shut with more force than she intended. Yuugi flinched under the covers.
"Good morning," his grandfather greeted him, stepping over to the bed.
"Morning, Jii-san," mumbled Yuugi, barely awake.
"Shower and get dressed, Yuugi. There was a call from the hospital. They have a room waiting for you!" said Sugoroku, a cheerful smile on his face that Yuugi could not return.
"But Jii-san, we can't afford—"
"They said your insurance would cover everything," informed his grandfather, looking mighty pleased with himself as though he had been the benefactor, rather than a mere harbinger of good news. "Don't you worry about money for one moment. As if we wouldn't give all the world so you'd be back on your feet… now come on, hurry and we'll call you a taxi."
"Jii-san… I don't want to go," the words slipped, dissolving into confused silence. Father and daughter exchanged glances; explanations followed of how lucky Yuugi was to even be admitted to Domino City Hospital, how he would have free access to all the treatment and medication he needed to recover faster… until Sugoroku finally realized what was wrong.
"Yuugi…" he said, his voice low, "We will visit you every day, and I'm absolutely certain your friends won't mind going to the hospital instead of the Shop to see you… especially Anzu-chan, hmm?"
Pale though he was, Yuugi's cheeks flushed a tender pink above his smile, small and tired and relieved. Sugoroku laughed.
"You're a good kid. Now, go get ready!"
Having successfully arranged for Yuugi's treatment, Kaiba Seto began to consider, with some degree of reluctance, the idea of a hospital visit. A quick and formal one, nothing more than a short inspection on his part – it was his investmentafter all –, preferably in the evening when Mutou Yuugi might be on the verge of sleep or had already crossed that threshold into the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness. The mere idea of idle chit chat with an invalid, of having to sit in a small plastic chair by his bedside and inhale the fetid air of illness was enough to twist Kaiba's mouth in resentment. He would not have it. Five minutes should be ample and even those five frugal minutes would have to wait a few days. He couldn't just barge in there on the very first day as though he could hardly wait. On the second perhaps, or even the third… casually as it were.
And so on the third day of Mutou Yuugi's admission to Domino City Hospital, at exactly fifteen minutes to nine o'clock in the evening, Kaiba Seto forced himself to close his laptop and rise from his desk where he had been sitting in a fresh, crisp suit for the last half an hour, minding his posture not to crease the fabric. If he was to make a public appearance, the least he could do was reflect in every minuscule detail the impeccable state of his affairs, personal and business alike, and looking in the mirror, he fancied that the reflection might have even surpassed its object – a suspicion that Isono tactfully confirmed as he escorted Kaiba to his limousine and held the door open for him. His Seto-sama rewarded him with one of his dry smiles as he entwined his long, slender fingers over his thighs, his back held an inch apart from the backrest to spare the immaculate lines of his suit jacket. Isono drove in silence, tackling evening traffic with surgical precision. Everything was going according to plan.
And then Yuugi's annoying friends had the insolence to appear in the hallway, ruining Kaiba Seto's perfectly calibrated plan. He did anticipate minor glitches – an incompetent receptionist, a slow elevator –, but he felt he was hardly at fault for supposing regular visitors would have been long gone by this hour. Family he would have allowed for. That he would have understood. There was no excuse here. Just looking at the way they moved towards him, schoolbags casually thrown over their shoulders, he had no choice but to deduce that they had been loitering in the hospital for at least six hours, overstaying their welcome as always. They all looked tired and unpresentable, but Jounouchi in particular looked almost filthy. Kaiba's eyes narrowed.
"Kaiba-kun?" came Anzu's voice as they stopped in their tracks, obviously surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"A little late for a hospital visit, isn't it?" said Jounouchi, straightening his shoulders and lowering his school bag. "Or do they extend visiting hours for rich scum like you?"
Kaiba's lips twitched and then smoothed out again with a small hum and a smirk, dry as the desert.
"Jounouchi. You should be thankful you were even allowed inside a hospital. They hardly ever make exceptions for dogs. Today must have been your lucky day."
Jounouchi's shoulders tensed, his hand instinctively releasing the handle of his school bag and clenching into a tight, hungry fist. Catching the motion, Honda's hand shot up the next moment, curling firmly around a loose fold on Jounouchi's back.
"I do not have time for you," Kaiba spoke again, soft and dismissive as though he had been addressing a petulant child. His eyes flitted away from Jounouchi, sinking into the depths of the hallway, and he stepped forward to pass. Jounouchi, however, would not be ignored. Hot anger scorched his senses and he turned after Kaiba, whipping up his fist – only to feel the iron grasp of a practiced hand catching him mid-punch. He did not even realize that Isono had been there the whole time, but now he made his presence felt, intercepting Jounouchi like clockwork.
"I suggest you leave," he said, keeping his tone strict, polite and professional. His Seto-sama kept walking unthreatened and unharmed, a small, content smile on his face that nobody was allowed to see. Jounouchi yanked his fist away.
"Fine," he growled, glaring at Isono as he snatched his schoolbag off the ground. "Who wants to be around him, anyway," he added with a mouth full of bile and acid, loud enough for Kaiba to hear.
"Nobody," replied Honda, and this time, he lifted his hand to give a firm, friendly pat on Jounouchi's shoulder. "Let's go." Anzu rolled her eyes but said nothing – there would be plenty of time later to remind Jounouchi that he had to keep his temper in check if he wanted to come back and see Yuugi again. The three of them passed Isono in silence and Anzu was the only one glancing back, her face perfectly calm but her eyes large and stormy. Isono suppressed a sigh. Everything seemed to be about his Seto-sama… and at the same time, nothing ever was.
By the time Kaiba reached Room 604, no one was left in the hallway but Isono, who had stopped a few feet away from the door with his back turned not to put any undue pressure on his Seto-sama, to spare him from an audience as he hesitated for a moment and then lifted his hand to knock firmly – or so he imagined the light taps of his knuckle to be firm, though they hardly made a sound. There was no reply, but he was almost glad for it. Yuugi might be asleep after all, bored to death by those idiots he keeps for company. It was just as well. What could they possibly have to say to each other? Nothing. Who wants to be around him, anyway? Kaiba's hand trembled over the handle and then pushed the door open, slipping in like a shadow.
Nice room, he thought. Not very large, but not a rat hole either. There was a small bathroom to his left complete with a shower cabin, but the air felt dry – those savages didn't even leave Yuugi time for an evening shower. The linoleum floor was soaked in moonlight pouring from the farthest window, the only one without blinds, and in the soothing cover of darkness lay Yuugi, small and still under the covers. Kaiba cleared his throat and straightened, neat and clean and yet utterly alien in this room.
"Yuugi," he announced himself, his voice almost a whisper. No response. Asleep as planned.
And yet Kaiba Seto knew not how to proceed. Memories of late-night vigils by Mokuba's sickbed flushed over him in waves, memories of holding a small, clammy hand in large, warmer ones, of dabbing his little brother's hot forehead with a cold, wet towel and whispering soothing nothings to Mokuba's dazed whimpers and pleading murmurs of Nii-sama – bittersweet, unhelpful flashbacks, mismatched patterns on a foreign template.
Perhaps he should move closer, and so he did, treading as softly as a cat on a roof, traversing dangerous heights with his head in the clouds and Yuugi in the deep, immersed in the stale fog of medication. He looked so weak, so unbearably frail and helpless in sleep it made Kaiba want to throw up. He had seen Yuugi sacrifice himself to save Jounouchi, falling limply to the ground – that was might. In the scathed ruins of that small body, he had seen true strength unwavering on the edge of death, yielding only once it had served its purpose. In this wretched hospital bed, he saw only infirmity, tepid sickness seeping from every pore. Disgusting. Miserable. Undeserved.
Yuugi's breath seemed slow and uneven, his skin pallid under those matted clumps of yellow and black hair. His eyes had sunk into their dark-tinted sockets. His lips were slightly chapped. Kaiba could not take his eyes off him, but the more he stared at Yuugi's mouth peeling away like parchment, at the puffy eggshell of his skin, the more his fingers curled into angry claws itching to rip off that festering cocoon and reveal something raw and strong and teeming with life beneath. Seeing Mutou Yuugi withering away was almost sinful, like a mocked, dying god that had betrayed his people with the false promise of immortality. Kaiba could not bear it. He could not allow it – not if there was something he could do… and so, as his hand hovered below Yuugi's jaw to palpate his pulse, Kaiba's fingers curled around his neck, encircling his jugular in a steady, merciful grasp. His hand was so large and the throat underneath so small and tender. Mokuba's neck felt like this at the darkest nights of his life.
Just one firm press of Kaiba's fingers could collapse that throat; one sharp motion could dislodge those vertebrae and he would never, ever have to see Yuugi so terribly weak again. His eyes were hazy, his mind swelling with illusions of being a benevolent deity that spares his subject the humiliating agony of wasting away and takes him at the zenith of his life to preserve him as he ought to be: strong, proud and full of life. His strength was a gun, his fingers the trigger. He could save Yuugi from decay. He never had the courage to save Mokuba, but he could still save Yuugi…
His pupils dilated and shrank, the room swirling with vertigo. The moment roared in his ears to the inexorable strikes of a clock that only he could hear. Warmth oozed from his fingers, his heat trickling into Yuugi's skin as Kaiba's hand tightened around his neck, but Yuugi did not so much as stir as if he could not sense or feel him – as though… as though he were nothing. He could feel small throbs of life against his fingers, growing fast and stubborn on Kaiba's warmth, but Yuugi still lay soft and motionless. Perhaps he wouldn't have moved even if he had been aware of the way Kaiba's grip slowly consumed his throat, his trust an infinite well that Kaiba Seto had never known.
But no. Wait. He stirred, one hand fluttering upward until it came to rest lightly upon Kaiba's own hand. Kaiba's nostrils flared with the raw sting of adrenaline, eyes wide like some caught, frightened animal, but Yuugi's eyes remained blissfully closed… and he whispered a name.
"Jounouchi-kun…"
Kaiba's blood curled in shame, realizing he half expected to hear his own name. Madness. As if Yuugi would ever cry out for him in search of comfort, as if anyone could ever whisper his name with yearning tenderness, longing to glean pleasure from the heat of his skin, the tight proximity of his body against theirs. Madness… sheer madness. And yet, prodded by that soft, somber bout of insanity, Kaiba's fingers tightened just a little more and then grew limp and defeated under Yuugi's hand. Yuugi wasn't weak. He was.
Kaiba's fingers began to coax that small hand away from his own as gingerly as he could manage, shame searing his skin as he guided Yuugi's hand to rest on his pillow, and a moment later, he carefully slipped his hand away from Yuugi's throat. Yuugi shivered, Kaiba's warmth evaporating too fast, too soon, and Kaiba found himself pinching up the covers and tucking them around Yuugi's small frame, straightening the folds mechanically as though he wanted to wipe his trace away.
His last gesture of goodbye was a feather-light brush of his fingers over a rogue yellow tuft. Yuugi's lips slowly curled into a smile, but Kaiba pretended not to notice. Smiles were dangerous. They either seemed to hold promises that he knew would be broken or had been conceived empty and meaningless, and Kaiba wanted neither. All he wanted was his name, but the moment had passed and was gone forever. His shoulder tensed as he turned away, and a moment later, he, too, was gone.
Anzu, Honda and Jounouchi never saw Kaiba Seto in that hospital again. Yuugi could not recollect him, either. That's odd, he thought. Surely Kaiba-kun would have woken him up had he visited? The others thought so, too – so perhaps they were mistaken. Perhaps Kaiba was visiting someone else, suggested Honda, and Jounouchi seemed satisfied, happy to feed his resentment. Anzu thought it unlikely but decided not to pursue it, and so they turned to happier topics. Kaiba Seto was soon forgotten, and nobody spared him a single thought when Mutou Yuugi left the hospital three weeks later, finally well enough to recuperate in the comfort of his own home surrounded by friendly faces.
How could they have known that Kaiba Seto bore the entirety of Yuugi's expenses and Isono was obliged to bribe hospital staff so his Seto-sama could sit by Yuugi's bedside every night after visiting hours, watching over him? Nobody thought to ask him. Nobody.
It wasn't as though Kaiba Seto had a heart.