[Prompt: Memories]
[Critias/Kisara, Priest Set/Kisara, C. Seto Rosenkreuz/Kisara, Seto Kaiba/Kisara]
He wasn't sure he wanted to remember her.
Seto Kaiba stared down at the trio of Blue Eyes White Dragon cards spread on the desk in front of him. They glimmered softly in the light. When he picked one up and tilted it back and forth, the rainbow shimmer of the holographic paper ran up and down the length of the card.
He sighed, putting it back down on his desk in the middle of the trio. One long finger trailed down the edge of the right one.
It truly was beautiful, he thought. One of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He had always loved dragons when he was a child, loved the stories of how strong and powerful they were. He wanted to be as powerful as them. And the Blue Eyes was the most powerful at all. For years, he had told himself that his fascination with the card lay in the psychological scars of his childhood and his desire for control, desire for power to take control of his life again when it had been so long in the hands of others. His psychiatrist, on the single occasion that Mokuba had convinced him to go, had agreed with the assessment.
But it wasn't true, was it?
A soft tap on the door. Seto looked up, knowing what was next. The door opened a crack and Mokuba peeked one eye in.
"Um, niisama? Someone's here to see you...?"
"It's okay, Mokuba...I'm expecting him. Go ahead and let him in."
Mokuba blinked, as though he could hardly believe his ears. But he shrugged, still looking a bit shell-shocked, and retreated behind the door. Seto sighed, dropping his head into his hands for just the briefest of moments. He lifted his head at the sound of the door opening again.
"Mutou-san," he said, softly, somewhat—guilty in spite of himself. "Thank you for coming."
To his credit, Mutou Sugoroku didn't look the least bit perturbed, and he grinned with that large, amicable smile that only a very old man could have. He crossed the room as Seto rose from the chair and shook his hand briefly.
"It's no trouble at all, my boy. Sorry about the snow; tried to brush most of it off but it's quite the howler out there!"
"It is," Seto agreed. "And it's all right...it's only water."
For a breath, only an awkward silence reigned. Seto hated regretting things, but there were few things he regretted more than what he had done to the old man. It had been petty and childish of him to duel him as he had, using his age against him. And Sugoroku didn't even seem to hate him for it, always smiling when Seto had to stop by the game shop and always having that same bellowing greeting as though Seto were just one of Yugi's friends stopping by. Seto had never even officially apologized, and even now, Sugoroku didn't ask for an apology.
"I'm sorry to bring you out in the middle of this," he said. "When we made this appointment, there was no storm in the forecast."
Sugoroku just let out one of his belly laughs, snow sliding from his graying hair as he removed his hat and placed it on the desk.
"Oh, don't you worry about that—I've seen far harsher storms in my day! It was barely a bluster to me. Besides," and he paused to wink, "this is more important than any old storm, hm?"
Seto ducked his eyes.
"Right..." he said.
He was starting to regret this whole thing, as his eyes dropped to the cards and held their trio of gazes for a moment.
After a beat, Sugoroku spoke.
"You do want to try this, right?" he said softly. "It's okay if you don't."
"I..."
He hesitated. He didn't want to say this but—
"I'm afraid."
The words tumbled out anyway.
"Of what?" Sugoroku asked.
"Of what I might see."
Sugoroku let out a very soft sigh.
"She was important to you, wasn't she?"
He tried not think about the way she haunted his dreams every night, even though he had only seen her once in that hallucinatory world.
"She was to my supposed preincarnation."
"But she's important to you. It's important to you that you understand her, isn't it?"
Seto closed his eyes. Again, he saw her imprinted there—it was like he couldn't escape. His obsession with the Blue Eyes, with finding and obtaining the cards, the way that the memory of the day he had ripped up that fourth card made him clench him and shiver inside like he was going throw up, her face smiling at him in his dreams, the way her blood felt on his hands when she died in his arms—
He gasped as he fled out of the vision.
Sugoroku was looking at him, quietly. The only sound was the howl of the winter wind outside.
"Yes," Seto said finally. "She...she was."
Sugoroku smiled. His eyes crinkled up with deep wrinkles and his mustache twitched.
"Then it's worth it, isn't it? You might see something you don't like, but if she was truly important, then the good spots will make it worth it, don't you think?"
Seto bit the inside of his cheek. Then he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "Probably nothing will happen anyway."
Sugoroku chuckled softly. He dug in his pocket for a moment for the small box. Seto braced his hands against the desk as Sugoroku opened the box and pulled out the last Blue Eyes White Dragon card. Seto felt a stab in his heart at the sight of the tape holding the ragged edges together.
I did that to you, he thought. I—god, I'm so sorry.
Sugoroku glanced up at Seto.
"Ready to try?"
Seto couldn't speak, his throat was too dry. He just nodded.
Sugoroku placed the fourth Blue Eyes at the end of the line. Seto licked his dry lips, and slid two fingers to rest on top of the final, ripped card. For a moment, nothing happened—Seto had figured as much. Sure, he had caught glimpses of memories from holding the other three after that journey to Egypt, but he had been stupid to think that somehow having all four of them would make him remember anything else—
The vision hit him like a truck.
He gasped and physically fell back into his chair, head slumping back. He heard Sugoroku's cry as though from far away, and then the vision overtook him completely and he was gone.
He is pulling her to her feet, feeling a growl tug at his lips at the bruise that colored her cheek.
"He shouldn't have hit you like that," he says.
"I'm his slave," she whispers. "He can do with me as he pleases."
He doesn't like the way she shudders and clutches at the hem of her skirt when she says that.
"There is no slavery in Atlantis," he tells her. "And he owns you no longer."
And then he is holding her against him and watching the sails of ships on the horizon as the city behind them rises up with laughter, and she is playing with the straps of his armor.
"You're always wearing that," she teases. "You should let things go for once."
"Then however will I protect you, my love?" he says, kissing her on the head and smiling as she laughs and pushes him playfully away.
And then he is holding her cool hand against his as the sun beats down on them, and she is smiling with the relief of one that has just escaped the heat in a cool oasis. And he is pulling her to him and pressing his lips against hers because he missed her so much and she missed him and they just need to press their bodies together in ecstasy—
And again, now they are entwined together in the recesses of a dark castle while the winds of winter howl outside, and she smiles as she stretches up to kiss him lightly on the nose.
"You're so cute," she whispers.
"Not as cute as you, my snow princess," he whispers back, pulling her into him so that he can feel every inch of her against him, warmer even than the fire crackling at their feet.
He gasped again, jerking free of the vision. The howling of wind was real this time, present and actual. Not a memory.
There were tears on his face. When—when did that happen?
Sugoroku's hand gripped his shoulder, and for a moment, Seto just looked at him, disoriented.
"Are you back?" he asked.
"Y-yes," Seto said.
Sugoroku watched him a moment longer, as though to make sure he wasn't going to pass out. Then he asked, in a low, soft voice,
"Did you see her?"
Another unbidden tear rolled down Seto's cheek. He pressed a hand against his eyes for a moment.
"Yes," he whispered. "I...I did."
"And?"
Seto's hand slowly dropped from his face.
"She was beautiful," he whispered. "So...beautiful...and kind...and..."
He closed his eyes to try and stop another tear from escaping him.
Sugoroku's eyes fell to the desk. Seto frowned, following his gaze—and then he drew in a sharp breath.
The fourth Blue Eyes was whole again. The tape had even vanished. Seto reached for it. But then he hesitated, hand hovering over it.
It was Sugoroku that guided his hand to the card. Seto glanced at him before he picked it up, and turned it over, looking for any sign that it had been ripped up.
"Well," he said, holding the card out. "I guess you can consider this repayment for...helping me out."
But Sugoroku shook his head. He pushed the card back towards Seto.
"Keep it," he said. "It's yours."
"No," Seto said, trying to hold it out to him. "No, it's yours. It's a special card that was given to you by your friend. I don't deserve it."
Sugoroku just smiled.
"Truth be told, Arthur's given me plenty of old trinkets," he said. "I won't lie—the card is special to me, because of who gave it. But the card is special to you because of who it is."
He retrieved his hat, plopping it on his head.
"You've been looking for her for a long time," he said, moving towards the door. "Probably thousands of years, without even knowing about it. Who am I to get in between a love story that strong?"
"Mutou-san..."
Sugoroku just glanced back from the door, his hand already on the handle. And for one, brief moment, Seto saw him as he had been, the cocky adventurer that had sought out the world's secrets and become one of the world's greatest game masters—and he wondered, for a moment, how he had ever won against a soul that bright.
"Call me grandpa," he said, winking. "And take care of her, will you? She's been waiting for you just as long as you have her."
He winked one last time, and then...he was gone.
Seto could hear him humming all the way down the hallway, saying hello to Mokuba as he passed, heard Mokuba chase after him and offer to have the car take him home since the storm was getting worse.
For his own part, Seto just sank back into his chair. He stared down at the four cards laid before him.
And then he smiled, and let the tears finish falling.
"Kisara," he murmured.
It had been worth it.
It had been worth it.
