A/N: Before I start ranting (I'm sure you won't bother to read the rest of the notes, anyway, so I'll rant later), I want to thank the eight special people who reviewed the first chapter. Special mention to dragonlady222, Mindtwin (I'm not going to bother typing the penname because I'll get it wrong YET AGAIN), Yami Val, Dragon (Reblue Eyes) and Tragedyluver. Also to an anonymous reviewer named, Risako. Thank you very much to the people who reviewed, I love you guys to bits!

As promised, here is my rant: Gods. Never again shall I dare write and type a chapter while my dad constantly—and seriously, do people here never get the fact that I want to be alone even for a few hours?!—passes by. It's scary. OO I had to like, check my back from time to time to see if anyone could read what I'm typing. Okay, granted that this isn't really an M-rated chapter or something, but man, some people here seem to think that anything beyond house chores and the usual family activities is a waste of time! -sighs- Weird.

This is going to sound very, very, very embarrassing but can anyone tell me what they want to see? Like, any ideas for Seto-Yami interaction? I'm afraid I'm running out of them.

Thanks again, and review, okay? I swear I work faster when people grace me with their comments. Heck, you can even bash me if you want. LOL. I'm weird.

CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: dragonlady222, Tragedyluver, Mindtwin, Reblue Eyes (Dragon… nudgenudge), Risako, Yami Val, barrie18, and kiki2222.

Chapter 2: Frightening Revelations

There was a coffee shop: a small business establishment that not only offered the best coffee in town, though it takes more than false advertising to actually prove this fact, for a 'reasonable' price, but also a fully air-conditioned place for people to sit and do what sensible beings do when not in a hassle, chat. The chatter was made more of little groups, of two to three persons sitting near the air-con, the bookshelves, on the bean bags, by the pastry section. The result? A long, seemingly endless talk about absolute nonsense.

Seto Kaiba found it ridiculous, to sit through one hour and the next, sliding from one conversation to another as if there weren't enough days in the world for two people who sit side-by-side in the office to converse. Had they been talking about the latest break in modern technology—which of course, was made only by Kaiba Corporations—or perhaps, even who was winning in the race of stock exchange (if it was even a race, to begin with); then things would have been different. Instead, these people choose to pay for expensive caffeinated beverages and babble about gossip. Pathetic. Then again, it wasn't his loss. He, after all, wasn't wasting any of his time, with the exception of that lone minute he spared himself to wonder about the other customers' uncanny desire to not do anything significant.

Still, he was a businessman first and foremost; and being one of the most successful in the field, he knew well enough how the shop profited from the babblers. By the time he got his coffee—black and nothing else—he concluded that a coffee shop, though littered by human beings of all ages and occupations who had gone there for one specific reason (other than buy coffee), was a clever, clever thing. People wasted their time; however, chatting and sitting meant more chances of them buying the offered pastries. Clever.

He could easily send Isono to get him the beverage, why he didn't, he really had no patience left to ponder about that. How many hours have passed since Mokuba was admitted into a suite and received the best of medical care? Seto stole a glance at his reflection in the glass doors of the hospital. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair of brown, rumpled bloodied clothes… gods, he looked terrible. And the yawn, which took the CEO aback simply because of the fact that he couldn't have yawned in public, didn't help.

Two days ago, he had woken up and damned the alarm clock with a loud smack. The pain barely even registered in his sleep-deprived mind as he blindly walked towards the bathroom for a nerve-wracking, ice-cold shower. He found out that freezing to death in the shower was better than drowning in cups and cups of coffee. Every day, he did the same thing. It was routine: get up, smash alarm clock, shiver and wince in bath, dress into uniform, get fully re-charged laptop, make breakfast for Mokuba, flip newspaper to Business Section, get forced to eat breakfast, then go to school. Two days ago, he had a precise schedule he was determined to follow until the last of his days. That was also the last time Kaiba, businessman and 'tyrannical' (or so they said, he preferred the word 'driven') ever woke up from something.

"Nii-sama…?"

Mokuba's question greeted him the moment he wearily closed the door. Seto lifted his gaze, "Yes, Mokie, I'm here." He paused, noticing a disapproving frown on his raven-haired brother's face. Mokuba was concerned, and he knew that. But he did not see the point of the younger Kaiba worrying too much. Where was the fuss? After all, he didn't have three stitches on his head. "Seto, you're tired. Please go home." Gray-shaded eyes were wide with pleading and concern, as the owner sighed at his CEO of a brother, who simply sat and ignored the request.

Outside, Isono stood patiently, obediently. The doctors, all moving from the west wing to the east, or the other way around, sent him their version of confusion before walking away; the nurses, some giggling at something giggle-able all the way to their stations, spared him curious looks before slowly dragging themselves towards their destinations. Not that Isono cared. He waited until the Kaibas were finished with their usual, private conversation—and hearing Mokuba Kaiba ask his brother to rest was a conversation he couldn't ever dare think as non-private—before knocking. "Enter," the CEO instructed him. Pride was an important thing for his boss and its value, Isono, deep inside the recesses of his subservient mind, knew and understood how Seto Kaiba felt. It was one thing to lose to the King of Games; however, it was a completely different matter to place one's memories with the said rival in a hidden, overly-protected cavern in his world.

Isono knew of Seto Kaiba's many secrets, and as he entered the room, the sight of an exhausted, blue-eyed young man before him became one of them.

"Has the Board been notified of my absence in today's meeting?" The executive asked, leaning now on the armrest of the provided chair. "Yes, sir," Isono replied. Mokuba watched the exchange in righteous anger—though how frequent this rather odd emotion grace the being of 'such a sweet kid' like him is a question that remains unanswered—and swore to ban his older brother from working into the next decade the moment he is released. "Good." The man bowed and quietly left. Seto and Mokuba stared at each other, just like the time Kaiba was merely another faceless name in the news. Back then, as two young children look at the orphanage that will be their new home, azure eyes glimmered with so much promise as the owner vowed to protect 'Mokie' to the best of his abilities, forever and ever…

"Nii-sama, what are you doing to yourself?"

It had been remarked out of exasperation, but the underlying message was clear. Seto looked away and chose the excitement of the stilled trees as his new object of fascination. How… interesting. "I'm fine, Mokuba." It was the same answer—always; the only three words the brunet would willingly answer the question with. The younger Kaiba folded his arms in annoyance. "Why can't I even worry about you, nii-sama? This is so unfair!" Seto wanted to scoff, or at least make his brother stop asking needless questions. Irritation ebbed, a fire ignited by an overworked mind.

"Go to sleep, I'll be alright, Mokie."

What a lie. Seto Kaiba may be a genius, and probably the only one who can make Bill Gates and some sultans a run for their money, but he had bodily needs. And at this instance, as Mokuba sighed in temporary defeat; Seto, billionaire, child prodigy and eligibly aloof bachelor, needed to sleep.

He could sleep right here, a few distances away from his brother. His eyelids felt heavy, as if ready to collapse had they been human beings and capable of standing upright. Seto's head hurt, working in tandem with the image of a frightened, wounded boy who wanted to do nothing else but to bury his head in his brother's chest and clung like the mere embrace will shield him from everything that wanted to harm him. That had been the only comfort Seto could give as Mokuba's blood soaked the towel and stained his pride as –

"Are these tickets to the amusement park, nii-sama?"

Mokuba was six years old and jumping in joy as the brown-haired boy nodded and grinned .It had cost him all of his savings that would give him at least one month to contact every family member he knew and ask them to take his brother and him away from the orphanage. Until they chanced upon a huge, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to a park on a newspaper ad. Mokuba had stared at his brother then turned away, knowing he wouldn't be able to go even if he begged the caretakers to bring them there.

"You're the best brother in the world!"

Mokuba hugged tightly as Seto embraced his little brother back. There was laughter and jokes on that day; six hours with nothing to worry about, with no reminder that 'dad killed himself after mom died'. No lies for this day, no 'dad was lonely, Mokie' and no threat to separate Seto from his darling brother should he punch the brat—ah, Justine—again. That day, full of everything both of them would have experienced had they not lost their parents, was bright.

Seto blinked wearily, his eyes hurting as he rested his head on his hand. It was really getting harder.. to not… fall… asleep.

XXX

The hands, one longer, the other shorter, moved for every passing minute and second. A third one raced ahead, faster and traveling in seconds. The Kame Game Shop was closed, the people managing the years-old shop leaving to go from one appointment to another. Inside the building, Grandpa Motou gave the only sign of life through the sounds he made as he slept the night off. Beside the cash register, a beeping sound broke whatever semblance of inactivity that flooded the place. The number flashed repeatedly on the LCD, the caller been calling since 7:02 P.M., and yet, after two hours, no one was yet to answer.

The front door opened suddenly, a tri-haired teen entered and shrugged his sweater off. Crimson-red eyes caught the blinking red light from the side. "Hey, Yami… Hey, Yugi… can you drop by the hospital? I'm in the third floor, room 213." It sounded like Mokuba. Why wouldn't the caller be? It was the younger Kaiba, after all. Yami was relieved and honestly glad that his rival's brother was alright, but if Mokuba called, where was Seto?

"Yami, you're home."

The teens stared at each other, the recorded message being played for the sake of the amethyst-eyed Motou. "Let's go," Yugi insisted and sighed as the sound of someone colliding into the closed door reverberated in the air. They saw Jonouchi recover and push the door, as if the mere act would actually open it when it was locked, as Yami good-heartedly opened it for him. "Jonouchi, Yugi and I need to go somewhere. Can you look after Grandpa for tonight, please?" The blond nodded and scampered off to the sofa. A few seconds later, Honda knocked. What greeted them was a drenched, furious brown-haired boy.

"Yami?"

The car cruised slowly enough to follow the speed limit, as the King of Games grunted a response. He knew better than to expect and think that his rival would call him should something happen. It had never been enough for cold electric blue-eyed Seto Kaiba that Yami only wanted to help, after all. Not that he blamed the other; actually, it wasn't difficult to understand Seto's trust issues. "Why can't I understand you completely?" he mused as the brunet's flippant "What's it to you?" popped in his head. Yami felt his aibou shake his head. From a distance, the hospital appeared in plain view.

The hospital was fairly peaceful. Gone was the unsettling feeling to be better than great, to overwork as if being perfectly and simply 'capable' was not enough. It was as if, as the nurses and the doctors received one patient after another, someone that can easily send any one of them home jobless was watching their every move. Such was Seto Kaiba's power… and it seemed hat the flury of life and panic that go with his name were easing into a reasonable 'quiet' normalcy. There were still a handful of little boys limping and crying with their bandaged arms and hurt knees; and elderly men and women being wheeled in and out but compared to what had happened before, this was calmer.

Yami and Yugi didn't stop to notice them, though, as they headed to the third floor. As they opened the door, what greeted them was the sight of—and rare sight it is, indeed—Seto Kaiba sleeping, seated on the chair before a very much awake and smiling Mokuba. Exhausted, vulnerable human Seto didn't know that his brother had called the two 'visitors' earlier. As his rival silently approached him, to get closer to the injured Kaiba, he dreamed of nothingness, a usual world of darkness that the mind indulges with as it recuperates and nods off. Had this been anyone else—preferably Jonouchi—Yami would have snickered into his hand or, bit down a smug smile. But this was his rival, and instead of being amused, there was a sudden need to wake the CEO up and drive him home to sleep.

"How long have you been awake, Mokuba?" Yami asked, seeing the patch of bandage on the other's head. "Ten minutes. I was planning to send nii-sama home. He's tired and he hasn't even left the hospital," Mokuba shrugged as he met the crimson-eyed teen's gaze, not really meaning that it was entirely a bad thing to be left alone but a quick look at his sleeping brother shut that thought up. Yami nodded, knowing and expecting that from the stubborn CEO. "Nor has he rested, it seems," he continued for Mokuba. "How are you?" he asked of the boy as an after thought. His mind, however, was preoccupied with ways to convince his rival to take a break.

"Please make him rest, Yami," Mokuba answered, instead.

It was natural for Mokuba to ask that from Yami. Not that he wasn't worried about being too straightforward and demanding… oh no, not really. There was concern in the other's lively, carmine eyes whenever his older brother was discussed, and Mokuba, being the good little brother that he is, always take the time to notice even though Seto doesn't. His nii-sama once told him, before Gozaburo dragged blue-eyed, barely smiling little Seto into a hellish life consisting of impossibility and unreachable expectations, that absolutely no one else was important. 'We don't need anyone else, Mokie. I'm here, you're here…' It was a proud statement, what Seto Kaiba said, but he was a child. It was a child's promise, and Mokie, sweet, little Mokie believed his older brother even as he bade the other goodnight and watch his older brother study and work beyond the capabilities of his body.

It had taken Mokuba a few years and surprisingly, some heartbreak to understand his brother. But Yami, from the moment he waltzed into their lives and stole one of the three things that Seto valued, took merely a few minutes from every duel to break through his defenses. Admittedly, Mokuba felt that Yami should give his brother a chance to reclaim his title; but it doesn't work that way. They valued their pride—his brother's rival and his older brother—and their expectations were the only things that they want to meet. The raven-haired boy found himself unable to stop trusting Seto with Yami.

"I will," Yami promised, understanding the benefit of doubt the younger Kaiba was giving him. He understood Mokuba's desire to protect Seto, the same way his rival had done to his younger brother all these years. The King of Games turned to look at his aibou, who had closed the door quietly and grinned at him, revealing two chairs.

"I'll stay with Mokuba," Yugi told his dark. It was at that moment that the CEO's eyes widened in alarm, jolted awake by a dream, which resembled a falling feeling, the same feeling one gets when he falls from a chair in slow motion for everyone to see. It was weird, but Seto was too surprised to see two spiky-haired teens in the same room as he is that he couldn't remember what he even dreamed about. "What are you doing here?" His frown hid his confusion and curiosity. It was meant to go that way but Yami merely frowned at him in return. Inwardly, sure, he was mortified by the fact that he fell asleep when he shouldn't have… but as familiar, annoyingly worried crimson eyes land on him, he felt his embarrassment fading into anger. As usual.

Seto Kaiba scowled and met his rival's gaze. "While I appreciate your visiting Mokuba, I will appreciate it even more if you leave shortly. He needs to rest," he pointed out in what Yami thought to be as the CEO's arrogant, don't-question-my-snobbish-self voice. He fought the temptation to sarcastically roll his eyes at the azure-eyed duelist. "We are leaving," he answered, instead, and rose from his seat. "Goodbye, Mokuba," he bade. The CEO blinked and narrowed his gaze at Yugi, who merely sagged into his chair and smiled. "Aren't you leaving?" he demanded and frowned when the other shook his head. Yami sighed and raised an eyebrow at the oblivious executive, "Do you have any idea how fast traffic builds up on the way to your mansion?"

"You have to rest, nii-sama," Mokuba explained.

"I'm not leaving," was Seto's reply, unyielding to his brother's pleading gaze.

"Nii-sama…"

"Kaiba—"

"Well, I'm not so you can forget it," Kaiba told Mokuba and then turned to his rival. "And who said you're part of this? I'll do whatever I want, Yami."

Yami had enough and walked towards the scowling CEO. "Don't you care about yourself?" he questioned, shaking his head and dragging the other to rise. "Well, I do. We're going to your mansion and you're going to rest." Seto pulled his hand back and glared at his rival. They shouldn't meddle with his affairs—especially Yami! It was embarrassing enough to lose to the spiky-haired teen in front of him, and to have the duelist tell him what to do… that was just unbelievably revolting. "I don't need to listen to you. I can do this by myself—"

"You can continue on your I-don't-need-your-help tirade later," Yami received another scowl. Does the CEO never do anything else but frown and scowl? He shook his head. "Despise me later, Kaiba; for now, for God's sake, take a break! I'm sure an intelligent person like you can understand, right?" Yami didn't care as Seto scoffed at him. He could even feel his aibou's gaze fall on him as Mokuba turned his own at his brother. "What use will you be if you can't even keep yourself from sleeping?"

Seto turned away and met the concerned grays that landed on him as he drowned out traitorous thoughts that keep repeating just how Motou—his rival!—was right. "Fine."

XXX

"I don't get you."

Two hours were enough for him, it wasn't that important, after all. What he needed was a break, and two long hours of sleep was nothing else but that break Seto needed. The drive home, even though he quite adamantly made it a point that he was the one driving them back since there was absolutely no way that he would let Yami—no matter how exhausted he is—use his car, was short. In fact, after he watched the other head to the kitchen to do something Seto didn't bother to know because Yami Motou may be his rival but he wasn't some cold-blooded killer (besides, if he was, the CEO was sure that he could easily defend himself), Seto went straight to his bedroom.

Which is why, two hours and ten seconds later, to be exact, he found himself in the dining hall with his crimson-eyed rival.

"What's that, Kaiba?"

"You're not supposed to help me." No one was; and no one could. It was something he had learned years ago, as he stifled the tears of disappointment that he couldn't prevent from pooling his eyes whenever one couple after another leaves the orphanage without him and Mokuba. 'I'll help' was nothing more than a promise that no one had the guts or ability to fulfill; so why was this teen before him implying a promise of the same thing?

"Well, I am, aren't I?"

Seto scowled, baited by the response. "You can't," he countered and looked at the well-made food before him. This was ridiculous. How difficult is it to understand that he didn't want help, anyway? Seto Kaiba survived hell, went there, kicked the Devil's ass and went back—alive, sure he was missing some parts, but still, he went back and that was the point. He had been through so many things in the past, in Gozaburo's clutches, being forced to create inventions to hurt other boys' baby brothers, fathers, mothers, sisters… why, after all this time, would he suddenly ask and need someone else's help? "No one must help—"

"Must help? I can't? Is it because I'm unable to…" Yami countered, "… or you just don't want me to?"

"What do you get in return? What do you want for helping me?" And here it was, the question. That one query that would confirm Seto's thoughts and theories, that no one would willingly help. The spiky-haired teen, after all, even though he made him breakfast and all, was still his rival, someone Seto would eventually defeat. He watched as Yami leaned closer, their faces just a few inches apart and felt the other duelist's breath ghost on his lips. Seto merely scowled at the observation.

"A 'thank you' would be nice…" Then Yami grinned good-heartedly, because it was his nature to do so. To smile and pretend everything was alright, even though it wasn't. Even though in Seto's point of view, it never would be. He loathed the King of Games even more, imagining the underlying smugness of the remark. They were rivals, two different persons—strangers!—pitted against each other; one was bound to lose, another to win. It was their game, it was their world and this… this sudden just-thank-me attitude surely did not belong. It didn't! "I don't believe you," the CEO replied.

"Then believe what you want," Yami had moved away now, bringing his plate to the sink, leaning on it as he focused his attention on the stubborn man before him. "I'll be here to help you anyway, even if you ask for it or not."

"You can't expect me to believe that," the executive answered, refusing to admit that he wanted to. Rival or not, Yami had been there in the past—Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, the Dartz ordeal, KC Grand Prix, every god-forsaken time. But no one needed to know that. He heard the King of Games sigh, and in exasperation or agreement, Seto didn't boher to know. Nor would he ever dream of wanting to. Besides, this entire thing wouldn't have confused him so if it weren't for Yami stealing the title from him—

and what was he, a troublesome six-year old? Seto silently growled at himself.

"Some things don't require payment of any sort, Kaiba."

"Bullshit."

"Then, what do you want me to want, Kaiba? Money? Fame? Your humiliation?" Yami countered, questioning the other's decision to repay for the favor. He walked towards Seto, who merely drank his water, and grabbed the glass away. "Would it kill you to simply thank me? Is that too much for your over-inflated ego to bear?"

He didn't know why he even bothered to care. Seto Kaiba, pride personified, would do well on his own, as the CEO continuously points out. Heck, the man wasn't even someone remotely close to him, excluding the fact that said man was his cousin in their previous life; so why did he meddle so much? Yami had pride, too, and if he valued it, he ought to know that it was better to leave resisting, I-don't-want-your-help people like Seto behind and move on with his life. After all, why waste such valuable thing, why throw your pride away for someone who doesn't have plans to appreciate it?

"I don't understand why you'd rather lose your soul to 'pay me back' when all I wanted was a simple 'thank you'," Yami told him and then stepped out, heading to somewhere, anywhere in the mansion that would give him a few minutes to think. Seto sat there, watching, glaring as if what the crimson-eyed duelist did was unacceptable. The other's words echoed in his head infuriatingly.

On their way back, Yami looked outside the window, interested by the blur everything has become, metaphorically and literally speaking. As Kaiba concentrated on the road, he chose to drown himself with thoughts to leave his rival alone. He was going to Egypt soon, to where he belongs and at least there, he wouldn't have to see such a confusing person like Seto, anymore. That was good, wasn't it? Yami frowned in response. It wasn't, it never was. One's memories were said to be important, and for him, it was. It was the only real possession he has left in the world, and even that, he couldn't have. Then perhaps it was simple enough to understand that he wanted a certain someone to see the importance of the past, too? Well, Seto Kaiba doesn't see it that way. And honestly, as Yami stole a quick glance at the blue-eyed brunet, it really hurt.

They were two different persons, and he could never force his rival to change. Change was not something one can impose on another, even if he was a former pharaoh and the other, his subject. That was just… unreasonable, but to have his efforts ignored, to be once again forgotten? To be treated as a rival, not even as a friend when what Yami wanted was to be seen as someone who can actually understood Kaiba? That was a piece of truth that's becoming hard to bear.

"Thanks for the ride," he gestured as he opened the door the moment the CEO parked the car. The silence unnerved him, Seto admitted to himself but he didn't have the heart to ask why. Yami was normally the talkative one, the one who'd start the conversation no matter how unwanted it is. That was just, well, that was Yami, and Seto Kaiba had been accustomed to that. And to think that this only started after their brief verbal spar in the dining hall—no, that wasn't possible. His rival wasn't as over-emotional as those idiots he hung out with. "Whatever," Seto said. He heard the King of Games sigh and watched the other leave, headed likely to where Yugi was. The CEO shook his head and glanced at his brother's doctor.

Seto Kaiba nodded and approached the elderly man.

"Good morning, Mr. Kaiba…"