Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal or any of the characters depicted in the story. Proper rights are owned by the respected owners individually.

Notes: Stress relieving ficlet, meaning I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Zexal so any advice, especially character wise, would be great. For time purposes, this takes place around episode 50.

Human
by. Satari-Raine


Inside the tower, Kaito watches from the windows of Haruto's room as the rain falls, thick sheets of water separated only by a sturdy wall of glass. In his hand is a lukewarm cup of hot chocolate, the white swirls now a thick, blended film on top of the beverage. Between the warmth in his hands that he stole from the mug and the slight chill permeating from the glass, he feels neither warm nor cold, neither comforted nor bothered – he feels numb, and he feels tired. But feeling tired is a state of being he cannot shake off and resting is a concept he cannot teach himself right now.

Orbital is at Haruto's bedside, the soft whirling the robot sounds off barely reaching his ears, battling to be heard over the hushed fall of the rain.

It's a familiar sound, even a comforting one.

Haruto is sleeping, has been sleeping ever since he was taken by V, and Kaito's torn between wanting him to wake up so he could make sure he was safe and wanting the child to rest so he wouldn't get taken again – he just wants his brother and the headache that follows these thoughts makes it hard to think clearly. And why he made hot chocolate for someone who can't even drink it is beyond him, a careless action; he won't drink it in Haruto's place, more like he can't – he can't take something Haruto loved – loves – and be greedy with it.

But maybe he had just wanted the sentiment's comfort when he made the drink, but that is childish. He doesn't have time to be a child.

He hands Orbital the cup when he walks over and pulls the blankets up near Haruto's shoulders, smiling softly and letting that warmth reach his eyes. At least his brother looks peaceful, all pain gone without a trace; if only it were true. When he finds his way from Haruto's room, the cup now back in his hands, Orbital makes one comment about Kaito's body, about how his steps were slower than normal, but one glare silences the concern. He doesn't need it.

The one thing he needs now is time.

The kitchen is dimly lit and muggy and he resists the urge to tug on the collar of his jacket as he walks in. The quiet humming of Orbital follows his hollow steps, Kaito finding himself leaning against a smooth chrome counter with a sigh. He can hear the way Orbital is restraining himself, wanting to comment on his slack posture, his tired eyes, the everything that is wrong with his damn body but surprisingly, the robot stays silent and observes the dark corners of the spacious room, as if occupying himself until he is given another order.

Kaito turns and places the cup on the counter, but his hand shakes and the mug tips off the edge of the counter and falls.

It shatters against the floor, broken blue shards of the ceramic mug scattering, the liquid racing across the slick floor in all directions. For a moment he doesn't move, just staring at the broken cup, at the mess, but his hands are starting to shake, and when he bends down to clean it up he's hit with a wave of lethargy. Orbital moves forward and watches Kaito with that red blinking sensor, and Kaito knows - and it hurts that he knows that his energy is waning, that his body is breaking, just like how the mug broke.

Turning away, away from the mess, he walks down the hall – but he stops when he hears that familiar whirring, and he waits for Orbital to question him. But Orbital doesn't say a word and the sounds of shards being picked up echoes in the room as Kaito walks away, the sound of the broken mug hitting the inside of the trash bin following him like a empty call.

He is grateful for Orbital's silence, but he doesn't have the time to voice it.

He just can't waste the remaining time he has left.


Comments and critique are always welcomed.