Title: Bejeweled Hearts
Author: AkizukiSakura
Series: Yuugi-ou
Genre: Romance/Fantasy
Rating: M/R
Pairing(s): Seto/Yuugi (Rivalshipping)
Spoilers/Warnings: Yami no Yami no Yuugi's real name, for one. This is heavily AU, and also a YAOI. Fair warning.
Disclaimer: Yuugi-ou belongs to Takahashi Kazuki-san and all subsequent copyrights. I make no monetary profit from the writing of this story.
Summary: When Kaiba Seto leaves for work one night close to Christmas, he doesn't expect to find a half-conscious boy on the way home. Nor does he expect his entire view of the world to be turned on end.
Notes: While Bakura and Ryou are separate people here, as are Atem and Yuugi, I do not classify "Marik" and "Malik" as separate entities. Marik is a spawn of Malik's anger, not a separate soul like Atem and Bakura.

Chapter 1: Crimson Snow

To the casual observer, snow should have been beautiful, a frosting of memories and bliss in an otherwise despondent season of gray skies and cold weather. As much as he pretended otherwise, Kaiba Seto was no exception to that general rule. To his employees and business acquaintances he never showed a smile or any other favorable expression – such whimsical emotions were, to them, below him and would certainly serve to undermine his authority should it ever get out that Seto actually had feelings.

It was late into December by now, so this wasn't the first snowfall Domino City had seen this season, but with Christmas only three days away the chances were strong that the people of Domino would be seeing a white holiday. Seto actually liked snow, for it brought back more pleasant memories of his and Mokuba's childhood, those rare moments that they were able to forget their orphan status and, later, their adoptive father.

Even so, however, Seto was not in the best of moods this night and probably would not be until shortly after everyone welcomed in the new year later in January and the shopping fanatics got in their credit card bills. Owning a huge, multi-billion dollar gaming corporation with the technology to create holograms for games could certainly be cause for the massive headache building in Seto's temples. The CEO of Kaiba Corporation detested the shopping holidays, especially the ones where his company unveiled new items to enhance Duel Monsters. This year his company had produced the gaming board, an upgrade of the gaming discs from the previous year, which would allow players to duel each other in any location. It had taken months to finalize the design and cost Seto several late nights until it was allowed to be put on the shelves in time for Christmas.

He was unsurprised when, in spite of his best efforts, his new product sold out within hours and there was a backlog of orders that would take too long to finish if he left it in the hands of his employees, hence his recent long nights. Today it had been almost eight o'clock by the time he was satisfied with the way things were going. If everything continued properly the next shipment would arrive at various times tomorrow afternoon and the day after to the stores that carried his company's products and parents around the world would be able to breathe sighs of relief. While he didn't particularly care if children got what they wanted or not, he had an image as being reliable to uphold and it was something of a dream of his to see the game he was champion of rendered in full holographic images. He was already planning a tournament.

It had been late when he decided to leave but he'd declined his secretary's offer to call the car around to take him home. A walk in the cool night air would help clear his head and soothe the heat of the mild stress fever he had so brilliantly gained. When he was ready he'd call the car to come get him from wherever he happened to be.

It was as he was walking that Seto noticed a scent in the air he happened to particularly like – the heady smell of fresh coffee assailed his nose and, without breaking his stride in the slightest, he followed the aroma to a small cafe tucked neatly away between a toy store and an electronics store. It wasn't one that he was familiar with but, then again, Seto rarely walked anywhere if a car could get him there faster. Mokuba would be expecting him home soon, as he'd called his little brother to let him know he was leaving the office, but surely a cup couldn't hurt before he went home. A slender hand reached out, pushing open the door; the tinny sound of tiny bells tinkled merrily, heralding his entrance, and rang again as the door swung in reverse to close with a soft snap.

Running, always running… He felt as though he'd been running for hours, for days, maybe even for months, though he knew he had only left that place a little while ago. It was this knowledge that kept him from stopping even though he was garnering odd stares from the people he passed, knowing that he would be pursued if he failed to put enough distance between himself and that man.

He knew people had to wonder what a child was doing out at this time of the night without an escort, dressed in powder blue pajamas dusted with stars, a curious gold amulet bouncing upon his chest with every step. It was only a piece of a whole, he knew – the raised design was native to Egypt, the eye of Horus a religious symbol. He would have tucked it back under his pajama top but it would only bounce out again and he did not have time to continually stop.

Where could he go? He knew it had been foolish to run, but he could not stay there, not with a man that knew who and what he was, not with a man that was working so hard to bring about the end of everything. It had been centuries – millennia, even – and the legend still held. He'd done his best, but now there was nothing left for him to do but run and hide, to pray that he would be able to keep this fragment safe.

It was cold.

He hadn't really noticed it at first, because then it had been a hastily opened window, a two-story drop using a tree to prevent injury, and running. Then it had been a vague hope that he could escape this cursed destiny, a destiny he did not want. But it was so cold! His pajamas were not very warm in weather cold enough to both yield snow and allow it to stick. His feet were bare; his hands likewise, and only messy, multicolored hair kept his ears even vaguely warm.

It was becoming harder to keep going. His footprints were becoming bloody from the harsh gravel of the driveway of the house and now from the concrete. Only the numbness inflicted by the snow allowed him to keep running now.

A cry of pain broke his ragged panting as he tripped and went sprawling for the third time, his legs protesting the half hour of running and his lungs threatening to shut down on him. Ignoring the people who stared – humans, the lot of them, none offering even a hesitant inquiry – he pushed his form painfully up and stumbled on, trying to ignore the tears in his pants from his fall, the scrapes on his palms, the snow caking his long eyelashes.

He pushed himself further, fear driving him on. Fear of being caught, fear of that room again, fear of being forced into the destiny he so avidly ran from. He didn't want to think of what that man would do if he caught up, but he knew what would happen – what had happened before.

Everything he had ever read – Greek, Roman, Indian, Indonesian, even Native American – told him that this was foolish. No matter the religion, no matter the gods, no matter the name of those who controlled fate, every story, legend, myth… All of them suggested that running was futile. Fate would catch up, always, but it would not stop him from trying to escape it.

Humans were self-centered, prideful, arrogant creatures with no respect, but he had met enough of the good ones to know that they didn't deserve to have their lives ended or enslaved, their beliefs forcibly suspended… He did not want to be a tool in that destruction and, gods and spirits be damned, he would do his best to avoid it.

He'd fallen again, breath puffing in front of lips taking on a blue tinge, and this time he knew he would not be getting back up. He'd pushed himself too long on too little and the form he was in was not accustomed to having those limits pushed. There was nothing more that he could do now except hope that his absence would be missed a little longer, long enough for him to…just…rest…

An hour was all that Seto had allowed himself to sit in the peaceful silence of the coffee shop before he knew he had to get home. Mokuba, the only other person Seto cared about, would worry about his big brother's prolonged absence. With a soft sigh, the CEO got to his feet, the white cloth of his coat swathing around his slender frame as he dropped his payment on the counter along with a precisely calculated tip – he wasn't a nice man, but he certainly wasn't going to stiff the waitress that had put up with him. The tinkle of the bell sounded once more, and the CEO turned the collar of his trademark white coat up against the biting wind as he stepped out into the frigid evening air once more.

At first, as he stepped onto the snowy sidewalk, boots crunching through the soft ice, Seto was unsure what the dark, meandering trail overlying the snow was. He walked on, gaze on the dark marks staining the purity of the snow. It was only when his mildly interested gaze landed upon the lump of something in the snow at the end of the tracks that his mind registered the dark substance to be blood and the form to be a body – a child's, if the size and proportions were anything to go on.

The heavy tang of metallic iron in the air, the scent half-remembered from when his stepfather killed himself and Seto had to identify the mangled body – broken after a drop from the top floor of one of Kaiba Corporation's many windows – was an unpleasant one. He slowed to a halt beside the ragged form of the child, confused. His eyes told him there was a child lying in the snow with no shoes and bloody feet – his mind was trying to figure out why a child would be out alone in this weather to begin with, much less in such a condition.

Seto glanced around, noting with mild surprise that the streets were surprisingly empty. It was amazing what a coffee shop sojourn could do to time, and what time and cold could do to a street full of people. Even so, that meant that this child was truly not with anyone. A parent would be out searching, police would have been informed. Another thought struck the CEO and the brunette knelt in the snow. Was this child even alive?

Intelligence and study had long since taught Seto to never move an injured body until damages could be ascertained. Luckily enough, this boy had fallen with his lips still visible and, though it was faint, his breath was clouding the chilled air in tiny puffs. So he was alive, but – if the blood was any indication – clearly unwell. Why else would a kid who looked about six be out in pajamas as nine-thirty on a cold winter night?

Casting a swift diagnostic glance over the child Seto decided that he wasn't injured in a way that would prevent him being moved. He might have hit his head, but the way he was laying in the snow suggested he had simply tripped and been unable to get back up. Reaching into the front pocket of his coat Seto pulled out a cell phone thin enough to be mistaken for a credit card and called his driver. Giving the woman a few short instructions he hung up, following that phone call with another to his private doctor.

Common sense dictated that he should take this boy to a hospital but Seto had a nagging suspicion that something was happening here. He overlaid that feeling with the much simpler knowledge that he had an infirmary at his mansion set to his doctor's exacting standards that would work just fine.

When the car pulled up and the driver opened the door for her employer, if she thought anything about the child in his arms wrapped in his trench coat she wisely kept her opinions to herself. She held the record for being the driver employed longest by the exacting Kaiba Seto and was not about to jeopardize good pay and benefits on foolish questions.

Kaiba Mokuba was used to his older brother's erratic schedule. That wasn't to say he liked it – quite the contrary. Seto was almost nineteen, Mokuba nearing his fourteenth birthday, and yet Mokuba was the more responsible of the two. Oh, sure, his big brother was CEO and president of Kaiba Corporations, but he was always neglecting his health. To Mokuba, taking care of oneself made one responsible.

Because Seto's schedule was always so strange – and Mokuba knew that part of the reason was because his brother would not delegate tasks – he only saw his brother on those rare days that Seto chose to take a break. Even when his big brother worked from the mansion Mokuba didn't really get to talk to him. Mokuba knew he was busy – that didn't stop him from wishing that Seto would work a little less. Mokuba would give up all of the wealth Seto brought them just to have his brother back.

Tonight Mokuba had waited up for his brother, as Seto had given him a call to let him know he would be home a little early. Mokuba had used to short notice to bake a batch of double chocolate chip cookies. Seto would never admit it, and Mokuba was under pain of tickle torture if he ever told, but the older Kaiba happened to have a bit of a sweet tooth and Mokuba wasn't half bad at baking.

It was something of a surprise, then, when the housekeeper came to Mokuba in the kitchen with news that Sakamoto-sensei, the doctor Seto hired privately to see to his and Mokuba's health, was here. Mokuba stared at the woman for a moment before snapping back to himself and telling her to show the doctor to the azure sitting room. Mokuba prepared a tray of tea and some of the fresh baked cookies as he tried to figure out why Sakamoto-sensei was here.

Ten minutes of thought yielded no explanations other than his brother calling the man because Seto had taken ill on his way home. He brought the tray to the sitting room. He could have had the housekeeper do it but Mokuba knew the woman was looking forward to going home and he was never one to inconvenience the servants. Even Seto was kinder than people might have suspected.

"Sakamoto-sensei," Mokuba greeted, closing the door with his foot and crossing the room to set the tray down on a dark wooden coffee table. He poured tea for the doctor and took a cup himself. Etiquette demanded that he wait until the doctor had a sip of tea before he would question the man. "Why are you here? Is something wrong with my big brother?" he asked almost as soon as the cup left Sakamoto's lips. The doctor smiled wryly at the raven-haired teen.

"He called me fifteen minutes ago and asked me to meet him here," he informed Mokuba. "He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, only that he was fine and that I should ask you to bring blankets and a pair of your pajamas to the infirmary." Mokuba blinked at the doctor for several moments. Why would his brother need pajamas? And why Mokuba's? He got to his feet with a sigh.

"It's best not to question Seto," he remarked. "I'd show you to the infirmary, but I know you know where it is, and I have to go get the blankets and stuff." He picked up the tray, shaking his head at his brother's strange behavior, grinning thankfully up at Sakamoto when the doctor opened the door for him. They split up in the hall – the doctor to the infirmary with his bag and Mokuba to drop off the tray and fetch what was needed. Had it been an emergency he wouldn't have made up a tray, but Sakamoto was a friend of the family and deserved courtesy when he visited.

He didn't know what he was expecting when his big brother finally made it home but this certainly wasn't it. Kaiba Seto was carrying a child in his arms. A child, moreover, wrapped in the white coat that Seto was so particular about people handling. The doctor was equally surprised but he accepted the child from the CEO anyway, eyebrows lifting at how light the boy was.

"Care to explain?" Sakamoto asked dryly as Seto brushed snow off his shoulders; he had not waited for the driver to hold an umbrella over his head. He set his piercing blue gaze on the doctor. Most people ran when Seto looked at them like that, especially after speaking to him so dismissively, but Sakamoto had been taken care of the Kaibas for years, had practically raised Mokuba, and was currently in the process of unwrapping the coat from the boy. Seto sat down in a chair sitting beside the bed. It was built to exacting standards – the whole room was – and had been purchased from a company that supplied the beds to hospitals.

"I found him," Seto said simply, watching Mokuba shift curiously out of the corner of his eye. When Sakamoto glanced at Seto, clearly needing more information, the brunette scowled faintly. "Outside in the snow, when I left a shop about half an hour ago. I'm not sure how long he'd been outside, or how long he's been unconscious."

By now Sakamoto had managed to pull the coat away from the boy. Absently he handed it to Mokuba, who hung it by the door to take down later. It would need to be dry cleaned. The teenager turned back in time to catch Sakamoto's glare, his expression darkening the more he examined the tiny youth. Muttering under his breath as he scribbled on a clipboard the doctor opened his bag. Catching the expectant stare both brothers were giving him Sakamoto sighed.

"Given the conditions you found him under, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he began, smoothing golden bangs from the youth's face to press the back of his hand to his patient's forehead, testing the temperature. "He has a fever, is suffering from mild hypothermia…" Unbuttoning the pajama top and pushing it from the child's pale chest Sakamoto scowled. "He's malnourished. He's probably been sick for a while." His gaze caught, briefly, on the jagged gold pendent hanging around the boy's neck before he returned to his diagnosis. "The scrapes on his hands and knees suggests he fell a few times tonight. Those aren't anything to worry about." Sakamoto pushed the cuffs of the starry pajama pants up, examining the torn skin of the child's feet.

"These will require time to heal, bandages, and a prescribed ointment," he finished. To be on the safe side he checked the boy's temperature with a forehead scanner and pulled out a stethoscope to measure his heart rate. Finally satisfied, he got to work cleaning the cuts and abrasions on the child's hands and knees before moving down to work on his feet.

"Food, rest, an antibiotic for the fever, and he should stay off his feet for a little while," Sakamoto said finally, tying off the bandages he had just finished wrapping before setting about changing the child into the pajamas Mokuba had brought. They were too big but the doctor simply turned back the sleeves and legs and covered the boy up, flicking a setting on the bed so that it would heat. He turned back to Mokuba and Seto, gauging their faces.

Mokuba, as expected, looked confused and horrified that a child was in such a condition. Sakamoto had expected the younger Kaiba's reaction to the news. He was surprised, however, by the contemplative expression on Seto's face. The only times he'd ever seen such a look from the CEO was when Mokuba was ill. Sakamoto lifted an eyebrow and turned away to wash his hands in a sink a few feet away.

"What will you do now, Seto?" he asked finally as he turned off the water and dried his hands on a towel. "He could stay the night at a hospital. I know a few good ones that are in most insurance plans. I'm sure his parents or guardians are worried." Even as he said it, though, the doctor had to wonder. Would they really be worried about this child? His feet suggested he'd been running, and his clothes said he'd run away from home. Why would a little boy run away from home in such a manner?

Sakamoto remembered the time he'd run away from home. Most children went through that phase at least once, and were generally home within the week. He also recalled having packed to leave – silly things like toys and things that were treasures to a child. This did not look like a typical case of a child denied a sweet or being sent to bed with no supper for a bad word. This looked like a child terrified of something.

"I'll keep him here for now," Seto's voice broke though Sakamoto's thoughts, startling the doctor into blinking owlishly at his employer.

"But… Are you sure? Have you thought this through, Seto? This child will need care. There's no telling what will happen when he wakes up. Surely a hospital would be a better choice…?" Even as Sakamoto spoke, though, he recognized the look in Seto's sapphire gaze when he directed it stubbornly at the doctor.

"That's why I have you," he said simply. Sakamoto rolled his eyes in exasperation. Seto would say it like that. Mentally he translated Seto's statement: I'm being stubborn. There was something else in his employer's posture that suggested this was a bit more than stubbornness for once. Something about this boy had intrigued or confused Seto, and Seto was not comfortable with things he did not understand.

"And me!" That unexpected input came from Mokuba, who had been temporarily forgotten. Both Seto and Sakamoto looked at him. The teen flushed faintly under their scrutiny but did not back down. "Seto's busy sometimes, so I'll help. He's just a little kid," he added more softly, his heart going out to a child in such a condition. Seto smiled faintly at his little brother, his own heart swelling a little with pride and love for Mokuba's big heart. He nodded to Sakamoto.

"It will be fine," he said finally, getting to his feet. "This room isn't far from mine or Mokuba's. Put a monitor so I'll know when he wakes up. We'll see if we can find out who he is and where he belongs." Seto paused, glancing at the child in the bed and then away, feeling rather peculiar. "Besides… No loving parent should be missing their child on Christmas," he added rather gruffly, thinking of how he'd feel if Mokuba was missing.

Sakamoto gave Seto a long, measuring look before he finally sighed and began rummaging in his bag for a mini monitor. He handed Seto the reception piece and clipped the transmitter on the boy's finger. A green light lit up on the piece of equipment in Seto's hand.

"It'll measure chemical levels every quarter of an hour through a pinprick on his finger," the doctor explained. "When he wakes up he'll probably be confused and maybe scared, and there will be an adrenaline spike. The light will turn red on yours," he nodded to the white prism in Seto's hand, "and will emit a whistle." He paused and glanced down at the child thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'll give him a small dose of sleeping medication to get him through the night. When he wakes up, feed him anything but clear soup and he'll probably get sick," he informed Seto, a humorous tilt to his lips. The older Kaiba sniffed faintly, knowing Sakamoto was needling him a little. The first time Mokuba had been ill enough to be bedridden Seto had fed him food that was too rough for his queasy stomach and had ended up needing a shower and change of clothes that didn't smell like vomit.

Pulling a bottle and syringe from his bag, Sakamoto cast a gauging look over the boy before measuring out a very small amount of clear liquid and slipping the needle carefully into a pale arm. He explained, "Since I don't know his medical history, this is a very small dose of a common painkiller and mild narcotic. His size won't allow for anything stronger to be used."

Sakamoto packed up his bag and closed it with a sigh, pulling off the white coat he'd donned when entering the room and hanging it up in a small closet that doubled as his supply closet. As he was no longer needed, he headed toward the door but hesitated with his hand on the knob before looking back to the brothers. "Be warned that he probably won't trust either of you when he wakes up," Sakamoto informed them. Mokuba started, surprised.

"Why?" he asked before Seto could say anything, though Sakamoto could see the question in the older brother's eyes too. Sakamoto sighed faintly.

"I don't think he left in…normal conditions," he said simply. Mokuba still appeared confused but Seto inclined his head in understanding. He had suspected the same thing when he first saw the child, so it didn't come as much of a surprise. It did make him feel better about bringing the boy here rather than to a hospital, though.

Sakamoto bowed to both brothers before departing, leaving them to glance at the injured child sleeping amidst a sea of white cloth.

Rewrites are fun, especially when one actually has a plot to adhere to the second time around. And it's an improvement in length, at least.

I know I keep posting new stories but I can only write what's on my mind, and this is the one that is. I think there's a one-shot lingering in my mind, too, but I'm not sure. My plot bunnies all come from different parents.

Word Count: 4,865

Kampai!
AkizukiSakura