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
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 on 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: I stole the name of the city from Miyazaki's "Castle in the Sky". So sue me.


Chapter 2: Ebony Silk

Kaiba Seto was not a workaholic by any stretch of the imagination. He had a company to run, a house of servants to manage, and a little brother to take care of. Knowing this kept him from overworking himself to the point of exhaustion – Seto knew better than to malnourish his body and overly stress his mind. His company could not afford to have its CEO at anything less than one hundred percent and Mokuba could not be left alone to learn what Seto had been forced to learn. Seto would be damned if Mokuba lost his childhood due to an irresponsible guardian.

Even so it did not stop Seto from working at home occasionally, if the need arose, and with it so close to Christmas it happened to be one of those times when he needed to put a little extra effort into making sure that everything was running smoothly. As such he was seated in a comfortable leather chair behind a stolid oaken desk adorned with not only a desktop computer but also the laptop he was currently utilizing as well as a neatly-organized stack of papers.

If the expression on his face was any indication as he glared at both computer screens, however, something was not going as smoothly as he knew it could. He began typing quickly on the laptop, obviously making some adjustments. Two minutes later the phone on his desk began to ring. He answered it shortly and a terse, sharp conversation later hung it up. His attention returning to the laptop his expression relaxed slightly. It was sad that he had to bark at his employees to achieve favorable results but if it worked he would do it.

A knock on the door interrupted him from his work but when the door opened a moment later Seto knew instantly that is was Mokuba who had come to see him – a servant would have waited for him to answer. He was unsurprised when his younger brother gave him an exasperated look – Seto's mild shock came from the tray that Mokuba was bearing. His stomach suddenly reminded him that he hadn't eaten in some time.

"You're working late again, Seto," Mokuba admonished his older brother sternly as he set the tray down on the desk and propped his hands on his hips. Seto was unable to suppress a chuckle, his expression more relaxed around his little brother than anyone else Seto interacted with on a regular basis. Though five years his junior sometimes Mokuba sometimes acted like the older sibling. Seto glanced at the clock and blinked just once in surprise.

"I didn't realize it had gotten so late," Seto admitted, saving his documents and closing the programs on both of his computers before shutting them down and turning to the tray Mokuba had brought. Seto was astonished that it was almost seven o'clock – he'd been at this for five hours now – and he gratefully accepted the cup of tea Mokuba handed him. Seeing the sincerity in his older brother's eyes mollified Mokuba slightly and he smiled up at Seto.

"I guess it's all right, then. Still, you should set an alarm or something so you don't keep doing this, Seto. It's bad for you." Mokuba's attempt at a threatening scowl at his older brother was foiled when the CEO reached out and tousled his little brother's long black hair.

"As long as you're around I'm sure I'll be fine," Seto replied, amused by Mokuba's countenance. Mokuba watched quietly as his older brother began to eat, stealing a fried shrimp from his plate and chewing thoughtfully. Finally he broke the silence again, this time with a concerned question.

"He's been asleep all day."

Seto did not have to ask who his kind-hearted little brother was referring to. "Dr. Sakamoto did give him something to help him sleep," Seto reminded Mokuba. He knew from the teen's furrowed brow that he was still worried, though, so Seto relented a little. "I've had the housekeeper check up on him every half an hour. He hasn't moved at all but his vitals are fine."

"I don't like it, Seto," Mokuba grumbled, clearly unhappy. "Why was he even out so late all by himself anyway? He can't be more than five years old!" Whatever Seto might have been about to reply was cut off by a shrill whistle. Both Kaibas looked immediately toward the medical device lying on the desk in easy reach. The light had clicked on, shining red, and the tiny display screen showed that the patient's adrenaline levels had spiked dramatically. Wordlessly Seto got to his feet and moved swiftly out of his home office, Mokuba following closely behind.


It started as a view of an island that was strangely regular in shape, as though one could draw a vertical line down the center of the land and have each side a reflection of the other. The landmass was surrounded, however, not by crystal-clear water but by fluffy white clouds that seemed almost manually arranged to flood the area around the island so that none could view even a modicum of space below. More clouds trailed through the sky above the island, effectively sandwiching it between two layers of condensed liquid.

Sunshine coiled languidly down through the atmosphere, slipping easily between the clouds and over ivory-clad marble towers inlaid with mother-of-pearl strips and scalloped, gilded eaves. The golden beams meandered playfully through long stretches of greenery – vines climbing nimbly over buildings, trees in full bloom, carefully cultivated gardens and fields of wild flowers – and skipped playfully through the mists created by small waterfalls and elegant silver-and-marble fountains.

In spite of the grandeur of the entire city – for a city in the clouds it was – nothing shone brighter than the palace situated in the very center of the floating island. It shone with a white brilliance under the sunlight that should have been blinding to anyone who laid eyes on it; instead it conveyed purity and radiance while still managing to seem almost normal. The palace was surrounded by sprawling gardens and merrily chuckling streams. There was no wall to separate it from the rest of the city – whoever ruled here clearly trusted their citizens.

Inside, the palace was airy and open to the rest of the island by way of humongous arched windows with thin crystal panes, and immense marble columns traced in gold and silver and set with precious and semi-precious stones to form murals of pictures in a myriad of various colors. The floors were also of marble and it was almost impossible to tell where the floors ended and the walls began so seamless was the melding of stone. Elegant furniture decorated each room, furniture of thick, aromatic cedar and deep, majestic cherry wood.

The throne room, with a gorgeous array of flora and fauna, was the obvious centerpiece of the palace. A pair of magnificently-carved thrones decorated richly with entwined ivory and ebony strips and shining with white and black opals sat halfway up the stairs to the top of the dais. Perched atop the raised stage was an immense statue of what was presumably the patron deity of the culture that inhabited this island. Carved of marble the skin was covered in bronze, the eyes set with rubies, the body draped in rich fabrics, and the hair made up of feathers of three different hues.

Suddenly the doors to the throne room, giant constructs of oak set with jeweled murals in the same fashion of the pillars, were pushed open to admit hooded and cloaked figures. There were six of them, each of varying heights and physical structures, but all bore some form of golden item. They took positions in the open center of the throne room, standing as though each person was the point of a six-pointed star. In unison they began to chant, dark purple-black energy swirling around each golden object.

In the midst of the spell another figure entered, this one carrying a bound and hooded figure in its arms. Calmly the figure stepped into the very center of the chanting sorcerers and put down its unconscious burden, situating it so that it rested upon its knees. The last cloaked figure pulled out a final golden object, this one shaped as an inverted pyramid, and dropped it around its victim's neck.

Power exploded violently with the action, radiating in a sharp, devastating circle that instantly slew all seven priests. Their victim got to its feet slowly, painfully, the bindings gone. Limping, it exited the throne room.

The figure returned – a figure that was now sans a cloak and revealed to be male– this time bearing a golden box and tailed by a veiled female cradling a sleeping child. A single blonde, spiky bang fell over the infant's forehead. The woman was clearly distraught as both she and the man ascended the dais, bypassing the throne in favor of kneeling at the feet of the god's depiction. The man draped a flat golden object hung on an equally golden chain around the baby's neck and the woman set the still-sleeping child at the feet of the god.

Without a word both man and woman got to their feet and fled the palace, the man still carrying the golden box.

Outside the palace the peaceful weather was a sharp contrast to the shadows that had overcast the city. The darkness spread and writhed around screaming citizens, instantly cutting out their lives. It sapped the life from even the animals and plants as the blackness drew steadily back toward the palace; in its wake the island began to crumble, pieces dropping from the sky to the Earth below. At last the shadows reached the palace and arched over the artfully-crafted structure, crashing down upon it a moment later as though emulating a giant tidal wave.

Inside, a child cried.


He shot upright in bed, lips parted on a silent yell of fear and revulsion. If there had been anything in his stomach it would have ended up splattered on the sheets that had pooled in his lap with his sudden movement. The child sucked in huge gasps of much-needed air, eyes swiveling everywhere to encompass the room he was confined in.

Where was he? How did he get here?

Frightened in his confusion the boy threw himself from the bed and ended up landing harshly on the floor, a pained cry escaping his lips. The blankets had twisted around his legs and trapped them, causing his ungraceful tumble. Feverishly he yanked and pulled at the fabric until he was free, shoving his form to his feet and ending up back on the floor with another, more audible cry of pain as fiery needles shot through his feet.

He turned his gaze down to his feet and found, to his utter shock, that there were bandages around them. Fresh red liquid was seeping through them now – getting up had apparently torn open the barely-healing wounds – but the pain had grounded him once more. He forced himself to calm down and got gingerly to his hands and knees, noting with some surprise that he was no longer clad in his own pajamas. Now he wore a dark blue set that felt as though they were made of silk. They were trimmed in silver embroidery, the color echoed on the left side of the shirt in the shape of two letters, "K.M." They were also too big, the top button too loose to stay fastened and his shoulder exposed by the slippery fabric.

He wanted to know where he was and why it wasn't that room, for this room was lit by moonlight and quite spacious rather than pitch black and the size of a tiny closet. It irked him to have to do it but, in light of the fact that walking seemed impossible at the moment, the boy crawled carefully across the floor. For some reason he felt strange, as though something about him had changed dramatically. He was unsure what until he crawled a few more feet, caught movement in his peripheral vision, and jumped in surprise. It took a moment for him to realize that he had only moved past a floor-length mirror.

About to shrug it off he took another look in the mirror, stared at his shadowed reflection, and hastily crawled over to it. Pressing a hand to the cool glass his mouth dropped open in shock. What in Laputa's name had happened to him?! He looked… He looked like he'd de-aged over a full decade! How old was he now? Five? Six? How had it…?

His gaze dropped to the flat, golden piece of a pendent hanging outside of the pajama top and his lips twisted grimly. Of course. Of course. It was supposed to protect him. That man had taken it from him so long ago but now that he had it back – now that he was wearing it again – it had chosen the best course of action for his situation and acted accordingly. Putting it on had made him dizzy, even ill, so it was no small wonder that he hadn't noticed the change immediately. After all, he had been a little preoccupied trying to escape that house.

He didn't truly believe that anything would come of that man's attempts but that didn't mean he could allow even the possibility to come to fruition. The power was too great for a person to control – had it not already been proven? The sound of the door opening brought the child's head up sharply. He was a child right now, too. Whatever the reason the amulet had decided to do this to him he would have to act the part. Whoever had found him could not know who and what he was.

"Ah! He's on the floor, Seto!" The light clicked on with the youthful voice's words, the radiance nearly blinding the boy on the floor from the sudden transition from dark to light. Briefly he was dragged back to those painful days locked in pure darkness before the soft patter of footsteps rapidly approaching broke him out of his daze. A boy who would have been about five years younger than himself – but was now at least ten years older – knelt in front of him, his posture screaming caution and worry. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked gently.

The child said nothing for several long moments, his gaze resting upon the floor and his posture tense and wary. The silence was long enough for both Seto and Mokuba to worry that this boy's vocal cords were damaged – which was not such a farfetched conclusion to jump to given the state he'd been found in – before the child looked up. Mokuba's breath caught in his throat as he gazed into eyes of the purest violet he'd ever seen. A surreptitious glance over his shoulder once he'd gotten over his shock proved that even Seto had been unprepared for such a soulful stare.

"I fell… And then it hurt to get up… I was scared," the boy whispered in reply, his tiny form hunching over as though he expected a physical reprimand for daring to be out of bed. He would have to act the child but this fear was real. It came as a shock when footsteps, heavier this time, came up to him. Without warning he found himself in the arms of the other person who had entered the room.

Seto repressed the urge to roll his eyes when the child in his arms went rigid as a telephone pole, those almost too-expressive eyes going wide with both fear and surprise. In spite of his annoyance to have to put the boy back in bed, however, Seto couldn't help but wonder a little at how skittish this child was. What had happened to him? Even as he asked himself that question he knew that this boy did not come from a loving home. Unwillingly Seto was reminded of his own childhood – or lack thereof.

Seto placed the boy carefully back in bed, his stare cool and assessing as he looked the boy over. "Don't get up again," he ordered finally, seeing the signs of fresh blood on the bandages and grumbling something under his breath. Mokuba, having gotten to his feet and followed his brother over to the bed, glanced at Seto with a faint frown. Dr. Sakamoto had warned them that the boy would be mistrustful. Seto probably wasn't helping with his gruff attitude.

Mokuba cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice softer and more friendly that his older brother's had been. "My name's Mokuba and this is my big brother Seto. What's your name? How old are you?" he asked the child carefully. After all, they could hardly go around calling the kid 'hey, you!' or 'that-kid-big-brother-found-in-the-snow' – and as to the age Mokuba was just curious. There was another very pregnant silence before the boy answered, his gaze having automatically gravitated downward again.

"...I'm Yuugi." Another pause; this one gave Seto the impression that the boy – Yuugi – had to think about the second part of Mokuba's question. "I think I might be six," he answered finally. While Mokuba seemed outraged that anyone could leave a child that young on his own Seto's gaze was calculating as he only half listened to his brother question Yuugi and the other answered hesitantly. For a child of such a young age Yuugi used surprisingly mature words. His grammar was flawless and his speech highly formal. Even if he'd been raised in a strictly traditional family there was something strange about his speech patterns.

He couldn't be a diplomat's son or the son of a family with inherited wealth – his speech was too humble for that. Seto could think of no such family that would stress such polite words and formal grammar and then allow their son to be so deferential to others – a diplomat's son would have the air of a young noble and the offspring of a family with wealth dating back through the generations would have a similarly 'higher-than-thou' persona.

Who on Earth was this child? Why had he been out in the snow alone like that and in obvious need of medical assistance? Perhaps an illegitimate child? Seto mused inwardly. Yuugi had not given them a last name to work with but he had not spoken as though he was purposefully trying to omit it. It almost seemed like that was the only part of his name that he actually knew. Seto hid a scowl with practiced ease. Somehow he would find out who this child really was.

Seto tuned back into the conversation in time to realize that Yuugi seemed a little less wary of looking at his hosts, though he had yet to actually ask any questions, and that he was nodding hesitantly – clearly Mokuba had just asked him a question. The raven-haired youth looked up at his older brother expectantly and Seto realized rather awkwardly that he had no idea what it was they were wanting. Seeming to sense this Mokuba rolled his eyes.

"Yuugi's hungry," he informed Seto dryly. "I'm going to go get some soup. The cook is asleep already but I know she left a pot simmering on the stove on the housekeeper's orders." Before the older Kaiba could vocalize anything, much less a protest, his younger brother had scampered off and left him with a wary child peering up at him through effeminately long eyelashes.

Now what? Seto thought, staring back at the boy.


I give up on attempting to make my chapters a uniform length. It never works anyway. Normally I wouldn't do a "review reply" segment but since there were only two of you I guess it can't hurt just this once.

tinkletimekelly: Yeah, I'm sure you've read it before. Actually, I think I remember your name from the very first time I posted this story. As for daring to hope for more… Is this an answer to your question, dear?

StupefiedNarutard: Wow, that's a lot of love. It makes me 'splee omg HAPPINESS!' to read all that love. This story used to be called "How to Thaw a Heart". I decided to change the title because it didn't really suit the plot – this story has a fantasy plot. In fact it's half romance and half fantasy. I have a way to make them both work. Of course, Seto with a five-year-old just won't do at all. Ever read WISH?

I'm really happy to hear you say that about my writing style! I often find it hard to balance between keeping things short'n'sweet and elaborating. It tends to depend on the scenario, as I'm sure was obvious from the interlude in this chapter. The 'starting close to Christmas' was a total accident, by the way. I just suddenly got the urge to do this rewrite now that I have an actual plot and was like 'eh, what the hell' and did it.

I'm so pleased that you're curious! It lets me know that I've done my job correctly as a writer. If you weren't then I'd feel bad. It's supposed to be an intriguing mystery – Yuugi's situation is supposed to be interesting. I'm sure this chapter is pretty obvious about some things but I think the ending – if I ever get there – might be a tad surprising. I think the person he was with in the beginning might be a little surprising too – it's not who it was in the original.

It especially makes me happy to find other people who like Rivalshipping. This is my attempt to spread the Rivalshipping love beyond Carry on Dancing and Phoenix Ashes. Shameless plugs aside, thank you two for your reviews!

Word Count: 4,066

AkizukiSakura