Hollow


"Niisama?"

The stairwell down was dark and narrow, one Seto hadn't known had been in the house. If it went to the basement or fallout shelter like Seto suspected, it didn't offer any light on why it was their forced destination. The figure knew its way around, which didn't surprise Seto. It was his house, after all.

His response to Mokuba was cut off when the figure brushed by him and the light in the basement hallway came on. The figure walked ahead, back to Seto and Mokuba, although clearly expecting them to follow.

How did he get out? The world was destroyed, wasn't it?

It wasn't built like Gozaburo, but it couldn't have been anyone else. If this had been a possibility while he was alive, including life in the virtual world, he would have used this tactic from the beginning. Nothing living could have conjured this sort of power, leaving only the dead. And what other spirit or being had this much anger brimming to summon so much animosity toward them? Why put them through this series of horrors if it only wanted to kill them?

"If you want to kill us, why put us through this?" Seto asked.

The laughter he thought he had heard before returned, but not from the figure. It echoed down the hall, whirling in a current around them, before fading into deep whispers. "Am I supposed to know?" he pressed without reply.

It had to be him. Seto couldn't think of anyone else as thoughtfully vindictive as Gozaburo, who would have known the simplest way to put them through hell for something as petty as revenge was to force them to face each other's death.

It led them back into the basement workroom where Gozaburo had built the initial world to home Noa. It had been cleared out for only a week before Seto decided the space was too empty, and filled it with the furniture and boxes of things Seto hadn't wanted to look at after Gozaburo's death.

"We're here," Seto said, and put down Mokuba so he wouldn't feel his arms tremor. They had been herded, nearly killed, made to rot inside and out, and Seto couldn't think of a thing to do about it other than face down the ghost of his past and demand a resolution.

The figure faced them once again, and outside of the rippling ghost in front of them, the basement hadn't changed since the last time Seto came down to drop off a box of books. It did seem a fitting place to have a final confrontation, surrounded by all of his things, discarded and forgotten like Gozaburo had been. Maybe it was more fitting that they would be left down here with the rest.

"Do you plan to keep us waiting?"

The ripples and drips began working upwards, spinning around the figure, solidifying here and there, and the first thing to appear were the eyes. Seto expected hazel, but was met with blue.

Inch by inch, the figure transformed, and inch by inch, Seto's anger grew. He stopped considering the how and let the disbelief merge into anger. The tremoring stopped and Seto let go of Mokuba's hand.

"You're not meant to be here."

The ooze poured out of its mouth a moment before rushing back in, and Seto stared back at himself. The version of himself standing across from them was younger and shorter, but had Gozaburo's glint in his eyes. He knew this child, and he thought it had been banished long ago.

"Take me back."

"You no longer have a place here."

The glint sharpened. "Take me back."

"That is what all of this is about?" Seto said. "All of this because you want back in?"

Its movements still resembled the mist, slow and smooth, a step forward like a meld with the ground, and still, the gaze never left Seto's. Mokuba took a step behind Seto while the other, younger, Seto came closer, one shortened step at a time.

Seto shrugged. "Fine. There's no place for you here anymore."

After being cast out, any place inside of Seto that might have clung to it had been filled with other traits that better defined him now. He had built and grown since the time this child had been any part of him. The idea that it assumed it could rejoin with him without issue proved just how naïve he had been during point in his life. Naïve and struggling too much to mimic Gozaburo, even to the point of putting Mokuba through the day's terrors.

"Niisama, you can't."

"It isn't part of me anymore," Seto said. "Taking it back won't amount to anything."

They continued to stare, even as Mokuba protested Seto's willingness to accept the conditions.

But what other choice was there? They couldn't fight the spirit in the physical world when it had supernatural abilities, but if Seto let it back inside of him? He could kill it then for good. A simple banishment wouldn't suffice this time.

He had to get Mokuba out of the house and if the demon he had to fight was his own, then he was guaranteed to come out on top. Seto was stronger than this broken boy who had nothing better to do in death than haunt the only people who knew what he had gone through.

"Come back," Seto said. "See if you don't burn."

They came together, the ghost of Seto reaching up for his face before becoming the mist, clinging to his skin and absorbing into it. Seto braced for a different sensation, or any sign of it trying to take over. Nothing came and when the mist was gone, they were alone in a house that seemed their own again.

And then he heard the laughter.


"Are you okay?" Mokuba asked, stepping forward once, tilting his head to get a look at Niisama's shadowed face. He expected the house to give a reaction to what that other version of Seto had just done, but Niisama wasn't even moving. His hand, which had been turning purple, was growing lighter, like maybe it was going to heal.

Was it over? Could they go?

"Niisama?" Mokuba asked, voice weak and shaking, but stronger than it had been. He couldn't feel the drips in his throat or that weight in his stomach. Did that mean it had left him too?

"We can go now," Seto said. "It's over."

His posture straightened and with it, everything around him seemed to change to something familiar and terrifying. The way he stood was too perfect, like there was a whip at his back making it so. Mokuba recreated the distance between them, because that wasn't his brother, at least, it hadn't been in a very long time.

"Are you sure it's over?" Mokuba asked. "It doesn't seem like it's over."

Seto faced him and Mokuba took another step back. Seto stalked toward him, forcing Mokuba back and back. He couldn't do anything. Seto hadn't been able to stop the mist and the figure, so how could Mokuba expect to?

"It's over," Seto said, not as a comfort, but a fact. "I have work to do."

"You're not him."

Niisama had been so sure he could fight it. It really took over so quickly? Was Niisama still inside fighting? This other Seto didn't seem to be reacting to an internal fight, but Mokuba knew Niisama wouldn't have agreed if he couldn't handle it.

"You remember me," Seto said. "I can see it in your eyes."

"You're not my brother," Mokuba said with a little more force. "You're not him."

Seto kept moving forward and Mokuba kept backing up.

"I am your brother, Mokuba. Now come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Mokuba said. "Give my brother back."

"I am back."

This Seto still wanted KaibaLand and some of the same things he wanted so many years later, but this was also the Seto who drove Gozaburo to his death, created a theme park to kill people, and had to be banished to bring the real Niisama out. It had just put them through all those awful things, and wanted Mokuba to pretend it was okay?

There had to be a way to get through to Niisama. If he was still inside fighting, then he needed Mokuba's help or he needed time. Could he get out if they left the house? Mokuba didn't know, but it made sense with how eager this Seto was to leave that going outside would trap Niisama.

"It's time to go, Mokuba."

Mokuba shook his head. "Not with you."

He turned and ran. If Niisama had been possessed, maybe all the mist and the blocked doors were gone. If he couldn't give him enough time, then he could go get someone to help. But he trusted Niisama to come through. The ghost of his past was strong, but Niisama was stronger.

Scrambling up the stairs, Mokuba caught the door and slammed it behind him as if that would keep Seto inside, and ran through the ballroom, door still sealed with a wall, but with all the mist gone. The candle from the attic burned in the center of the room, which meant the ghost still had some sort of control over what was happening in the house.

Mokuba ran faster.

The front door was still gone and the cracks around the house had expanded, covering the walls and ceiling, with dust filling the air like the mist had never gone. If the house came down around them, would Niisama ever get out? Mokuba had to hide so Niisama had time.

He ran back upstairs to see if the balcony doors were still open, and heard Seto's voice following him up the stairs. There wasn't time to get into one of the passageways on this floor, and he ran into the first bedroom he came across, locking the door and hiding in the closet.

Please, Niisama. Please win.

Mokuba pushed back into the corner and waited, trying not to cry. He would hear if Mokuba cried, and then everything would be lost. He breathed into hands cupped around his mouth and nose, and didn't let himself cry out when he heard the footsteps outside of the door. A crack broke across the ceiling above him and pieces of drywall broke and fell.

He didn't have any hope it would be his Seto who opened the door. It hadn't been nearly long enough. What was that Seto going to do with him?

It was Seto who opened the door, but neither one he was expecting.

"Mokie?"


Thanks for reading!

You can expect the final chapter on Tuesday, October 31st.