A/N: …'barring technical difficulties'? What possessed me to say that? Why did I even think that? Anyway, two days late, here it is. I'm still planning to update Friday, bar—
Nope. Not going to say it. Nuh-uh.
QUICK HEADS-UP: As the alternate chapter title indicates, here there be slash. This is pretty much as explicit as it gets, intensity-wise, but all the same next chapter I'll be kicking the rating up to M, because I don't want my story purged on a technicality. I'd hoped to avoid it, T garnering a wider readership after all, but a smaller readership is better than no readership, which is what I'd have if my story got deleted. QED. Content-wise, it'll remain more-or-less a T story, so if you cruise exclusively for K-T stories and want to continue reading this one, I'd suggest you either follow this story or find it via searching instead of browsing. Sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you!
Chapter Five
The Implications of One's Actions
Or, Oh Right, the Yaoi…
Friday: -6 Days
Yugi awoke to the sound of Miho's tearful voice.
"Miho is sorry, Miho failed, Miho let Yugi-kun get hurt—Miho is sorry…!"
"Peace, Miho, peace. The doctors say he will be alright. He would be far worse off were you not at his side earlier. He is well, Miho, as are you. Neither I nor Lady Ishtar are displeased with you." The second voice was a gentle, rich baritone—familiar, so very familiar…Yami. The Pharaoh.
There were more noises behind that. The fwih-shing of curtains on metal rods, the steady quiet beep of a vitals monitor, the murmur of nearby voices. The sweet/metallic chemical tang of antiseptic stung at his nose, harsh and familiar. An emergency room?
His suspicions were confirmed when he at last managed to open his eyes. He was indeed partitioned off in an ER, lying on a plastic bed. His favourite place in the whole world. Actually, it was pretty high up on the list. Just not with him as a patient.
Miho stood by his bedside, her eyes having gone a deep brown, almost black, with the setting of the sun. They were filled with tears, and damp tear-trails arced down her face. Her bluish pale hair was coming loose from its ponytail, wisps coiling around her face. Yami stood in front of her, bent just slightly, a hand resting on each of her shoulders and his violet eyes staring into hers. It was an oddly paternal pose, especially given that today's outfit consisted entirely of black leather and a dark red jacket. That golden pendant still hung around his neck.
"Miho, please trust me. This was not your fault," he said, and the gentle insistence behind his words gave Yugi the impression that he'd been saying them for a while.
"But—" Miho was practically hyperventilating now. "I—Yami-sama, gomen nasai—!"
Yami sighed gently and slowly shook his head, eyes closed. He smiled faintly. "Miss—Miho, little one, please, I understand your concern." His eyes opened and his face and voice became quite serious. "Indeed, I share it. But humans are far more resilient these days. A concussion is nothing to laugh at, certainly, but it's scarcely an automatic death sentence."
Miho did not seem comforted, if the continuing silent tears were anything to go by. She seemed to have given up on breathing altogether—which, given that vampires did need to breathe at least a little, was not particularly a good idea.
"Hey, s'okay, Miho-chan," Yugi managed. To his embarrassment, his voice was quieter than he intended and had a gravelly, groggy quality to it that he didn't like one bit. The room was also still a little bit muzzy around the edges. However, soft as his voice was, the two vampires heard it quite clearly, and Miho launched herself at him with a near-hysterical cry.
"Yugi-kun! Are you okay?"
Awkwardly, given that she had one of them pinned down, he put his arms around her and patted her back. "Yup. All senses, appendages, and memories more or less intact. And, arigato, Miho-chan."
Miho pulled away a little, looking at him bewilderedly through tear-filled eyes. "Huh? But Miho let Yugi-kun get hurt."
"I would have gotten a lot more hurt if you weren't there," Yugi replied, registering the failing grammar and dismissing the issue as irrelevant just now. "Concussions are a week, tops. Morgues are forever."
"Or a period ranging from approximately two-point-four days to one-hundred-and-twelve years," Yami muttered pedantically, prompting an eye roll from Yugi.
Miho beamed and rested her hands on Yugi's shoulders, bending over and lightly kissing his cheek. "Miho is glad Yugi-kun is okay. And Miho would like to see Yugi-kun again sometime. It's nice to have friends."
"'Course, Miho-chan. You can swing by anytime you like, since you somehow magically know where I live." Yugi's voice drained of sincerity at about the time the comma came into play, at which point his eyes flicked up over Miho's shoulder and gave Yami a meaningful look.
The Pharaoh possessed many graces; the grace to look embarrassed was apparently not one of them.
"I hope I can sometime soon!" Miho smiled again. "But Miho has to leave now; Miho is already late to meet Ishtar-sama at the temple! Sayonara, Yugi-kun!"
"Sayonara, Miho-chan." Yugi watched the girl leave with a little smile on his face. Once she was gone, he turned his attention to Yami, who was staring after her looking faintly perturbed.
"Eternity keep you," the Pharaoh muttered wryly, shaking his head. Then he seemed to notice Yugi's eyes on him and turned to face him, crossing his arms.
"You know, it's a shame there isn't a translator that'll take your expression right now and turn it into English." Yugi studied him for a moment; the slightly uplifted chin, the cool eyes, the indifferent not-quite-smirk. "Defiant, arrogant, just a teensy bit self-righteous, self-satisfied, or maybe both…I'm going with I regret nothing, personally. Am I close?"
"On the mark, rather. I was hoping that was obvious."
"Sit down," Yugi said. "It's starting to hurt my neck looking up at you like this."
Without a word, Yami settled into the chair at Yugi's bedside, crossing his arms. Two sharp violet eyes and one blank gold one fixed on the injured student.
"I'll go first, then?" Yugi guessed, arching a brow.
"By all means," Yami murmured.
"Oh, good. Wait, hang on a sec, I can't talk with this thing beeping at me." He reached over and pressed a few buttons on his vitals monitor, knowing better than to slide the clip off right away—that'd just fool the machine into thinking he'd flatlined. Noisy and embarrassing.
Yugi re-settled himself against his pillow and returned his gaze to the vampire. "Where was I?"
"'Oh, good'," Yami quoted obligingly.
"Yeah, good." Yugi crossed his arms. "Because I'm really curious to know why you sicced one of your people on me!"
"You're getting your verbs confused," Yami replied evenly. "To 'sic' a subject upon an object is to induce the subject to chase the object with the goal of attacking. Miss Nosaka was instructed to shadow you and to intervene should your life become endangered. Vague as it is, I suppose the best possible word for directing a subject to follow an object with the goal of protecting said object would be to assign."
Yugi stared at the vampire open-mouthed for a moment before shaking his head. "Ignoring that completely pointless bit of nit-picking, you still haven't answered my question."
"Because your question was based upon a conclusion drawn from a false premise, it was invalid. Impossible to answer." The Pharaoh shrugged. "An invalid question, after all, has no basis in fact and thus, no factually true answer. I could have made something up, if you would have preferred."
"I'm beginning to think I would have," Yugi forced out through gritted teeth. Is he being deliberately impossible!?
"I've annoyed you."
"What. Gave it. Away."
"But, as to why I asked Miss Nosaka—admittedly indirectly—to watch over you…well, isn't it obvious?" Yami chuckled gently. "I do not leave my debts unpaid. It's a bad policy. And for the record, she did help you."
"D-debt?" Yugi's irritation fell away, replaced by confusion—then reminiscence and finally, understanding.
"I won't forget this, Yugi. There are…not many who would act thus, finding me as you did."
So that was it. Yami felt he owed him a debt, and this was how he'd chosen to pay it. It was actually kind of…sweet. In a mafia kind of way.
"So…I drag you back to my apartment and you pay me back by assigning a teenaged girl to be my bodyguard?"
"You must admit she is effective," the Pharaoh pointed out. "And far older than she appears."
"Oh, trust me. I heard. So, uh…" Yugi blushed. "I guess I should be thanking you, then."
"For repaying a debt? That rather defeats the point, don't you think?" Yami countered.
"W-well…"
Yugi's search for a good way to continue stretched into silence, which in turn stretched into awkward. Little annoying things love to make themselves out to be supreme irritations during empty moments like awkward silences; perhaps that's why Yugi found himself reaching up and rubbing at the bandage on his forehead. Yami raised an eyebrow.
"I thought doctors were quite stern about that whole 'leave the bandage alone' thing," the vampire commented.
"Yeah, but doctors also make very bad patients and med students are just untrained, unpaid, and impatient doctors. Trust me, the temperament is born, not made." Yugi scratched gently at the skin around the bandage. "Plus, it itches. And I want it to stop."
"Had your assailant been a vampire, I would offer to track him down and dismember him for you. Otherwise, I'm afraid I can offer little in the way of assistance," the Pharaoh said dryly.
"I can't decide if that was more considerate or disturbing," Yugi said, tugging a little on the edges of the bandage in an effort to relieve some of the irritation, "but there was definitely a little of both in there."
As unsuccessful as he was at ignoring the itching at his forehead, it was twice as ineffectual to try and ignore the weird dizzy feeling that came with Yami's sudden sweet, gratified smile. "Well, violence is often more subjective than people realise."
"Huh," Yugi snorted, "always seemed pretty black and whi—" The itching suddenly stopped. This was mainly because the adhesive on Yugi's bandage finally gave way, and the gauze pad slipped right off into Yugi's hand. "…Oops? Well, I don't feel anything, so I guess at least the blood's clotted, or starting to…"
He trailed off as he realised the vampire wasn't listening. Yami's eyes had shifted to a point above Yugi's own, utterly transfixed by what he saw there.
"Yami?" he whispered—partly to distract Yami, partly to distract himself from the unsettling realisation that the hungry look in the Pharaoh's eyes wasn't nearly as frightening as it should have been.
"Pharaoh," Yugi tried again, and this time Yami started, shaking his head briskly.
"My apologies. It has been a trying day," he said easily.
Yugi wasn't about to be put off so easily. Such intense reactions two days in a row, with a feeding in-between? Even a fledgling had more control than that!
"You shouldn't even begin to be thirsty again for at least another day," Yugi frowned. "I'm thinking maybe you're doing worse than I am, Yami."
"And yet you are the one in the emergency room."
"I was being serious, Yami, I'm worri—"
"As was I." The Pharaoh's expression was forbidding. "My business is my own. Do not press me, child."
"Ch-child? I'm twenty-one!"
"I'm five thousand, two hundred and thirty-six," Yami countered, raising an eyebrow. "Approximately. Assuming I'm calculating all the calendar shifts and revisions correctly."
Yugi still smarted from the Pharaoh's termination—nay, guillotining—of the topic of his health. What had that even been? A dismissal, or a threat?
"I do hope you'll pardon my use of your phone," Yami said abruptly. "Joey's number was programmed in; I called him when I arrived…ten minutes ago? He should be here any moment."
"Oh, th-thank you," Yugi stammered, taken aback. "What did you tell him?"
"That you were injured, but not seriously; that you were here; and that I would stay with you until he arrived."
"Oh," Yugi blushed. Again. Suddenly, Yami laughed—softly, but a laugh nonetheless.
"What?"
"You." Yami shook his head, smiling slightly. "All this in two days? You're quite the little trouble magnet, aren't you?"
"I really, really hope not," Yugi groaned. "It's your fault. Gotta be."
"Doubtless." Yami tilted his head. "I think I hear Joey at the desk. The voice is…distinctive."
He lifted Yugi's hand and produced a black pencil from somewhere, scribbling something on the college student's wrist. Yugi blinked.
"Is that eyeliner?"
"Kohl," Yami corrected, somewhat tetchily. "And technically, now it's my number. In case you run into any trouble that needs a little deus ex machina to clear up." He stood, tucking the kohl away and tugging his jacket into place. "Do please take care, little one."
"You too," Yugi reminded him, letting the name pass—if Miho could take it, he could.
"Of course." Yami smiled gently. Then, bracing himself against the bed, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on Yugi's forehead. Yugi fought another blush, failing miserably and squeaking a little in surprise as the vampire's tongue flicked out and grazed the wound Yugi had inadvertently exposed earlier.
Yami moaned softly, a longing, blissful sound that sent a further rush of heat through Yugi's body.
"My gods," he breathed, so quietly Yugi could barely hear it over the suddenly erratic beat of his own heart ringing in his ears. "That is…so good…"
"Y-yeah," Yugi murmured breathlessly, tilting his head up and meeting those dark eyes. Yami slipped a hand under the student's chin, holding his face gently. Yugi trailed his own hand up the arm Yami had put his weight upon, coming to a stop with his fingers resting on the king's shoulder.
"I should go," Yami whispered.
"Yeah, you should…definitely…go." Yugi's other hand made its way around the vampire's waist, coming to rest at the small of his back, silky red fabric sliding and rumpling beneath his fingers.
"Mm-hm…" Yami's hand slid from Yugi's jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him forward into a soft kiss. Yugi's eyes slipped shut and he gasped softly against the other's lips, shifting his first arm around Yami's neck. The Pharaoh made a satisfied sound in reply, sliding his hand down until his arm was wrapped around Yugi's waist, shifting his weight to the leg he'd brought onto Yugi's bed, taking his now-free arm and curling it around Yugi's shoulders, pulling him forward until he was pressed tight against the vampire. Overwhelming closeness. Searing heat.
Perfection.
Yami broke the kiss and laughed low in his throat, the sound vibrating through Yugi. "Lovely," he rumbled as Yugi let out a shuddering sigh, his eyes opening just the slightest bit to see the vampire's penetrating gaze locked on him—not on the blood on his forehead, not the vein in his neck, but on him, his face and his eyes and his lips, with a most alluring look in his eyes, and the sight sent thrills through Yugi's entire body.
My turn, Yugi decided.
He kissed the Pharaoh fiercely, almost roughly, and Yami returned the gesture with equal ardour, nipping provocatively and none-too-gently at Yugi's lips as he pushed him down onto the bed again and climbed on top of him, his hands drifting teasingly over Yugi's chest. Yami ground his hips into the younger man's, eliciting a long, low groan of pleasure and wanting which the vampire caught with his own lips, bowed into a reckless smirk. Breaking the kiss, he whispered lowly into Yugi's ear. "Like that, do you?"
"Yes…"
"Oh, good," the Pharaoh murmured, smiling lasciviously. He closed the distance between them once again, his eyes falling closed slowly, almost decadently.
Then suddenly Yami pulled away, eyes snapping open. A faint flurry of movement was all that could be seen for a moment and then the Pharaoh stood once again by Yugi's bedside, his clothes and hair immaculate, his expression impassive.
"What—" Yugi was about to protest, but Yami shook his head urgently.
"Da hell is your problem, man?"
Yugi blinked. Joey? Right—Yami had said—
"My problem right now is you, mutt. Now get the fuck out of my way!" The curtain to Yugi's partition was pulled roughly open by an extremely tall russet-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a long white coat. Yugi could see Joey standing behind him, wearing a deep scowl on his face.
Oh. Shit. Seto Kaiba and Joey Wheeler were in the same room. At least they were already in a hospital…
"There is, naturally, a reason you are here, Lord Kaiba?" Yami enquired lazily, resting his right hand on his hip and raising an eyebrow at the man.
"Yeah," Kaiba retorted, in a tone only marginally more polite than the one he reserved for Joey. "You. This is the second time you've gone completely off-radar—"
"Screw dis, I'm gettin' in to my friend now," Joey grumbled, yanking the curtain shut again and ducking under Kaiba's arm, earning an irritated twitch from the vampire Lord. "Hey, Yug', you okay?"
"I'm fine, Joey," Yugi smiled, reaching a hand out to touch the back of his best friend's hand comfortingly.
"—in two days. Two days. What the hell—"
"And this is the second time in two days you have blatantly challenged my authority and competence as Pharaoh," Yami interrupted smoothly, dangerously. "The first occasion I was willing to overlook due to its privacy. This is no longer the case. Kneel," he ordered, his eyes blazing.
Joey and Yugi exchanged looks—well this is awkward.
Kaiba met Yami's gaze for a moment before narrowing his eyes, opening his mouth to speak.
"That was not a request!" the Pharaoh cut him off, his voice cracking like a whip. Seemingly sensing danger on the horizon, Kaiba complied without a further second of hesitation, dropping down on one knee and bowing his head—genuflection, Yugi recalled; that was the word.
"Seto Kaiba, you are a valued member of my Court, and I have no wish to lose your services, but this disrespect must cease. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, my Pharaoh." Kaiba's voice was formal, almost stiff. The Pharaoh took a step forward, lifting the other man's chin.
"I do not ask you to prostrate yourself before me, merely to respect me. I ask you not for blind obedience, to be a dog with his master, but for loyalty. Loyalty is the greatest gift a ruler can receive. Will you grant me that honour?" His voice was soft and sincere, and he stepped back.
After a moment of hesitation, Kaiba rose, meeting the king's eyes. "Yes, my Pharaoh."
Yami smiled slightly. "Thank you." Looking past the taller man, he nodded at Yugi's roommate. "Joey. Try and keep him out of trouble, will you?"
"Not possible. But Yugi's tough," Joey grinned, glaring at Kaiba as the tall vampire cast a dubious look over his roommate.
"I know," Yami said quietly, meeting Yugi's eyes. "We'll talk?"
Yugi nodded, ignoring the sinking feeling that he would regret their…indiscretions…once out of the vampire's immediate vicinity. He fought the urge to glance down at his wrist as the Pharaoh regally nodded his goodbyes and left, Kaiba shooting a last blazing look of contempt and resentment at Joey before following.
"Creep," Joey muttered, firing back a glare of his own before turning back to Yugi. "Still, wish Yami hadn't embarrassed him like that. That's gotta sting. So. What gotcha?"
"Bandit Keith," Yugi groaned, closing his eyes. Yup; the pheromones were retreating and reality was kicking in. He'd just made out with the Vampire King, and there were several somethings very wrong with that sentence.
"Keith? Dat bastard! He lost, why doesn't he just get over it?"
"'Cause he's a jerk," Yugi opined, grateful for anything to distract his attention at this point.
Still, on the plus side of things, he had the strangest feeling that some deep, horrid wound etched in his psyche had been suddenly healed.
"You sent for me, my Pharaoh?"
"Ishizu. Do come in." Yami's voice was practically a purr. His face, however, was impassive.
"…Pharaoh?" She closed the door, tentatively advancing towards the vampire at his desk.
"You had a vision. And you moved us all as you saw fit to ensure it came true." His voice, if possible, grew even softer, silkier, colder. "I do not like being manipulated, Ishizu."
A trace of frozen fear worked its way into her heart. "My Pharaoh, I—I can offer no excuse. I acted in a way I thought most beneficial for our kind." She stared at the ground, and even her vampiric ears had trouble discerning the footsteps of her king as he trod softly over the wooden floor towards her. She fell to her knees as she heard him come to a stop before her.
"Peace, Ishizu." Yami reached down a hand, catching one of her own and helping her to stand, though she still did not turn her eyes from the floor. "I have sworn never to do you harm. Do you truly think I would go back on my word so easily?" He released her hand and stepped back. "You have acted only as I instructed. I wished you to use your gifts as best you could to aid me and my cause. I can only assume that this is an example of you doing so."
Yami sighed, and Ishizu lifted her gaze to see him rubbing a hand over his eyes in fatigue. "Just…tell me. Was there any way to ensure the necessary outcome without frightening poor Miss Nosaka out of her few remaining wits—or, for that matter, without forcing an innocent human to spend the night in an emergency room?"
"Lamentably, no," Ishizu replied, clasping her hands before her. "My vision was of the boy in the hospital, injured very mildly, and of your presence at his side. I knew Miho would defend him from serious harm, but in the face of violating her own moral code she might hesitate to attack a human just long enough for Yugi to sustain the injury I foresaw, enabling my vision to come to pass."
Yami nodded sharply. "As I suspected." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "My…presence."
Ishizu glanced away, confirming another set of Yami's suspicions entirely.
"You knew I would be tempted…but not that I would resist." His next words were almost a whisper, a tone that sounded almost…scared. But that couldn't be right. "Ishizu…I possess admirable restraint at the best of times. These are not the best of times. What would you have done, had I given in? Drunk from him? Drained him?" His voice resumed a normal volume. "I'll give you a hint: any answer other than 'put you down myself' is not actually feasible."
Ishizu was quiet for a moment, then: "I knew he would survive."
"Oh really?"
She looked him dead in the eyes, aqua meeting violet. "He was there."
"'There'…" Yami's eyes widened. "Your other vision. That of my," he hesitated, "impending demise."
"Yes. I must remind you again, my Pharaoh—"
"You had a vision of me, collapsed, the sun well risen, and my eyes as they were in my first life, as they are now in the darkest hour of the night. It does not matter that you did not see my precise moment of passing. That is the point of no return, Ishizu. You know this as well as I." The Pharaoh fell silent, looking a little morose. "Why would he be there? What significance has he?"
"Perhaps none," Ishizu suggested. "Perhaps he is not there because destiny demands it, but because you do."
"What are you saying?"
"As you said, your restraint is…slipping. Despite knowing that you will not be able to hold back forever, you are not distancing yourself from him—far from it. On some level, you have already accepted that you will give in, that you will feed."
Yami thought about that, and looked stricken. "Oh damn...! I haven't been helping him, have I? I've been hunting him." Shaking his head, the Pharaoh crossed back to his desk and perched on the edge, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.
"Fate can be subverted," Ishizu said at length, slowly coming to join him, standing beside the desk on which he sat. "You could let him go. Keep yourself away from him."
Yami shook his head, the motion at odds with his reply. "You're right, of course. Although I did promise I'd speak to him…but I have much to do, I shall be busy…"
"As shall he, I am certain." Ishizu thought for a moment, and then carefully said, "It is as well. The others might have been tempted, with a human so isolated and near—"
"They would not dare. He is mine, and they will learn that!" Yami snarled, fixing maddened eyes on her. Ishizu watched coolly as sense crept back into their violet depths. "Oh gods," he moaned, burying his face in his hands, his words becoming muffled.
"Isi—Ishizu, I—I can't. It rends me from my sanity," he lifted his head, "the—the taste, the scent, the feel of him; he's burned into me, branded into my very thoughts, seizing my every merest impulse. I didn't even expect the bloodlust, not really, and this? This fixation, this all-consuming need for this one boy, for him and him alone—" The Pharaoh shook his head, looking, for the first time that Ishizu had ever seen, thoroughly miserable. His breathing, though still quiet, had an uneven, ragged quality to it that she didn't like the sound of at all. "I can't," he repeated. "I just can't. I need to see him again, Ishizu; I need to touch him, taste him, listen to his voice…why him? Why just him?"
Ishizu dispensed with formality and seated herself on the desk beside Yami, taking his hand in one of her own. "I am not certain that your fixation results entirely from your vampiric instincts." She paused. "You sampled far more than his blood, I gather."
Yami was silent.
"He is not unattractive. There is a…vulnerability about his appearance which has, historically, drawn your attention and of course, there are certain physical similarities to you which doubtless appeal to your more…narcissistic tendencies."
The Pharaoh laughed softly at that.
"Furthermore, he saved your life. You are grateful, and perhaps even a little in awe of a generosity you thought never to find in a stranger."
"I have a crush?" Yami asked sardonically. "Your five-thousand-year-old king has a crush?"
"If you wish to call it that," Ishizu replied neutrally.
"Don't be ridiculous. What about my actions speaks to affection? Maybe I can try stalking him next. That would be romantic. I can exsanguinate him for Valentine's Day. A ridiculous proposition at the best of times; you know I don't do the…romance thing." He looked vaguely perturbed by the idea. "I wouldn't have time for that if I weren't dying."
"My poor lonely king," Ishizu said wryly.
"Lonely? I've Law for a master, Politics for a wife, and War for a mistress, though Politics threatened to leave me if I didn't let War alone so I've more or less sworn her off now." The Pharaoh laughed, harsh and mirthless. "Enough of love. I wish my successor better luck at destroying your stash of penny-dreadfuls."
"They will need it," the High Priestess agreed.
For a moment, the library was quiet again. Then,
"What am I to do, Ishizu?" The Pharaoh met her eyes beseechingly.
"Talk to him," Ishizu suggested. "Over the phone, to begin with. See what happens. If you can restrain yourself from claiming his blood, that is a victory in its own right. If you cannot…" She shrugged. "But remember, my Pharaoh, that he is not as other prey. You are no stranger in the shadows, nor is he. Be cautious. And do nothing you will regret."
"As always, you have proved the wiser of us," Yami acknowledged wryly. His hand turned a little in hers, gripping her fingers lightly for reassurance. "Where would I be without your counsel, Ishizu?"
Ishizu smiled faintly—the first time such an expression had come to her in many days. "You got on well enough for millennia before me."
"However did I manage?" the Pharaoh wondered, returning the smile. "Ah…less than a week now."
"Have you given any thought to your successor?" Ishizu asked.
"No. I always do my best thinking in a crisis. I was thinking I'd just leave it until the night before, pick names at random until I find someone I like. You know. The usual," Yami shrugged.
The High Priestess blinked at him like she wasn't entirely sure he wasn't being serious.
"Yes, I've thought about it quite a bit," Yami sighed. "I've even talked to the Thief King about it—"
"Truly?" she asked, eyes wide. "You aren't worried someone will hear about it?"
"From him? Who would believe it if Bakhu'ra Akefia said I wasn't long for this world?" Yami asked. "It isn't as if he hasn't been loudly vowing to kill me for over a millennium. Actually, he had a few suggestions."
"I would suppose that his first suggestion was to place him on the throne, and his second, third, and so on were what Kaiba refers to as 'unprintable'," Ishizu stated.
"Surprisingly, no. Lady de Léon and Lord von Schroeder."
"I would second Lady de Léon, given those two for choice," Ishizu said. "Lord von Schroeder is rather young."
"Young, and competent, and loyal to a fault. Much like you," Yami pointed out, but Ishizu went on:
"Did you hear he highlights his hair pink?"
The Pharaoh sighed.
