Title: Sunrise

Author: Moonlight Reflection

Notes: Sorry for taking so long to update, but I've been distracted. I hope to resume a more regular updating schedule though, so hopefully this won't happen again.

In terms of where we are in this story, I honestly don't know I think I'm getting close to the final chapters, but I'm not certain. (And no, I don't know why I bothered to mention this….)

Anyhow, more relevant to this story, many thanks to Nephthys, Ninetails-chan, and Nalan-san for their help. It is deeply appreciated. Also, many thanks to the reviewers. :) Sorry it took me so long.

~ Live free or die… ~ [18]

        The hallway split into two corridors, and the only thing he could do was think about how it hadn't done that in the past.

        He wasn't quite sure how he knew that, and he wasn't sure how he had even managed to get there. One moment, he had been confronted by a see-through Black Magician holding his Yuki. But the next….

        Yuki didn't seem as white as the one Anzu had made for him, but it seemed more… familiar. How, he wasn't sure, but for one moment he had wanted to reach out to hold the little stuffed seal. Something kept him from doing so though, and he had a pretty good suspicion of what that something was.

        It was the same reason why he had never ventured into his kokoro no heya before.

        This feeling… these memories. He could hear his aibou talking, laughing, comforting… simply being there for him. His aibou had promised to help him find his memories, but instead he had lost the duel against Yami no Malik. And because of that, Yuugi was gone.

        As were the conversation, the laughter, the comfort… him.

        When he had been trapped with the psychotic darkness, he had been forced to live without the person who had taken the time to make him human. To do so, however, proved to be a task that was more difficult than losing Yuugi in the first place.

        For in order to survive, he had to stop living.

        Everything that he had lived for, everything that he had been was roughly stripped and locked away where it would no longer interfere with his survival. He didn't know why he had done it, especially when one considered the number of times he had wished he truly was dead. Often, he blamed Yami no Malik for the curse of his continued existence. But now, standing here, he realized why his prayers had never been answered.

        After all, one who is dead cannot die again.

        The realization struck him hard, unbidden and unwanted. The truth was so hideous that he did not want to face it, did not know how to face it.

        So instead, he stood there.

        He stood there and wondered why this had happened. He wondered about how he could ever have let this happen.

        But most of all, Yami wondered what to do with the choice that had been laid before him.

        Two doors, each leading to something he did not want but could no longer run away from.

~@*

        It seemed like a simple decision… one of those decisions that were tipped so heavily in favor for one side that most people would not bother to hesitate in making their decision.

        Yet the offer that had been placed on the table hours ago had still not been touched, and Otogi was making no attempts whatsoever to take it.

        So it was of no real surprise that Yami no Malik was getting more than a little bit steamed, which wasn't really a good thing for him because Otogi just found the whole thing to be plain funny. After all, how often did one get to see the world's self-proclaimed ruler angry enough to blow a fuse? Perhaps it was not in his favor to piss off the sadistic dictator so much, but it was worth all the additional pain that would have been avoided if he had just been intelligent enough to take the damn offer.

        Intelligence, unfortunately, had never been one of Otogi's strong suits, especially when he was too busy proving that he was indeed a masochist deep down inside.

        "How much longer do you think you can hold out for?"

        The question was, oddly enough, spoken with a curious tone that would have made his eyebrows shoot up if it hadn't hurt so much. He settled instead for smiling, an action that probably hurt more than expressing shock through the old-fashioned way.

        Whoever said that it only took less than ten muscles to smile should be promptly cursed to hell and forced to take his current position.

        "Long enough to gain a couple more ugly scars, I suppose," was the overly perky reply. He found himself holding back the sudden urge to giggle, and wondered immediately if he had finally gone insane.

        His father had always said it was bound to happen sooner or later. Whoever would have guessed it would happen sooner than either father or son could predict?

        At least, though, he had the undeniable delight of outlasting his father. Something had to be said of that decidedly undeniable pleasure.

        Either way though, it did not change the fact that Otogi was actually indebted to his father. And not because the old man had taken the time to create and raise him (which he was somewhat grateful for, depending on the time of day and his mood), but because if it was not for him, Otogi might have been stupid enough to take Yami no Malik's offer.

        Which, at least in the long run, would have been a terrible mistake. Even if the psychopath had kept his promise to end the constant pain in exchange for the information about the rebels that he so greatly desired, the consequences of such a betrayal were too much to be simply ignored.

        When he was younger, and more prone to blindly trusting his father in times of utter stupidity, he had learned first hand never to believe in people keeping their promises. For even in those rare cases when they did somehow manage to carry out their half of the bargain, something always happened to make the poor, trusting fool wish he was never born.

        Take the current choice being laid before him now, for example. Even if Yami no Malik honestly did stop tormenting him, he would have to deal with the insufferable guilt of giving up his lover, friends, comrades, and quite possibly the rest of the world to Yami no Malik.

        Well, perhaps guilt was not quite the right word. Guilt wasn't even a word in Otogi's vocabulary, since he usually had better things to do than feel sorry or bad for the dead. Unless the concept of heaven and hell, angels and demons, and all the other ideas of reincarnation were true, it wasn't like the dead were going to be very interested in blaming people for their untimely death. In fact, they weren't going to be doing much except rot. So why worry?

        No, it was a more pragmatic side that kept him from refusing Yami no Malik's advances. After all, in the perhaps highly unlikely case that Kaiba and company won the seemingly endless battle, things would not exactly fare well between Kaiba and the traitor, lovers or not.

        Although now that he thought of it, perhaps lovers was also a bit too intimate to be the correct word. He was beginning to suspect that Yami no Malik had had a point when he had labeled the raven-haired man 'Kaiba Seto's fuck toy'.

        What was the point of denying the truth?

        Part of that truth was that Otogi would in no way benefit from deciding to end his own misery by bleating all of Kaiba's meticulous plans like a sheep.

        (Not that he would have been able to anyway. He had no idea what Kaiba would do now that the vegetable-pharaoh had been rescued.)

        And even if Yami no Malik fulfilled his promise by slitting his throat with the blood-stained Sennen Rod (it was better than having it in different places), suppose the afterlife did exist? Next thing he knew, Kaiba would be kicking his ass all around non-denominational hell.

        For the oddest reason, he did not relish that idea. So it really was of no surprise that he kept his mouth shut, except when he was screaming loud enough to raise the dead.

        Not a bad idea, now that he thought of it. But he stopped thinking about it in order to attend to more important things, like the pain that was quickly overtaking his senses.

        Like all the lessons his loving father had passed onto him, this one had come with a terrible price. A price he easily could have lived without, thank you very much.

        Still, an army of dead was rather appealing.

        Especially when the dead cannot die again.

~@*

        Neither corridor looked appealing, to be frank. One was dusty and in need of a cleaning job from (Weeks? Months? Years?) of neglect. The other was dark and smelled oddly of blood, most likely from the abuse.

        Two corridors, but he did not know which to choose. He knew where they led, and he knew that he could not face the contents of either.

        It does not really matter.

        He looked up, and his voice cracked as he asked, "Black Magician?"

        Is that supposed to be a question?

        There was a time, so very long ago, that he would have been ashamed of such weakness. He no longer remembered that time. And there used to be a time, not so long ago, that he would have tried to improve on his weakness.

        But alas, that time had disappeared when Yuugi had left him. And all that had been left was an empty shell, a mere shade of a human.

        Granted, he might not have been a great human without Yuugi. Yet why would such a petty thing matter? He could have at least retained the gift (or curse, depending on one's point of view) of humanity, rather than give it up like a scared little mouse.

        He should not have let this happen. But it was too late for that, wasn't it?

        Why are you still here?

        He shivered.

        "I don't know which door to choose."

        It was an excuse, and a poor one at that. Both knew it, but one refused to acknowledge it.

        Does it matter?

        He wasn't trying to be cruel. Yami knew that. But the words cut deep, although he could not be sure why. It was not as if he really cared, yet a brief pang of guilt flashed through him briefly.

        "I don't know."

        The words made him feel bad, even as he spoke them. Now they hung there, taunting his weaknesses, his ignorance. He knew that he should have been better. It was expected of him.

        But why was it expected of him?! Why was this happening to him? He had never asked for these burdensome expectations, never asked anyone to depend on him.

        It wasn't fair.

        The tears came then, angry and desperate as they left trails running down his face. He barely noticed them, except to briefly wonder how he had come to be so damn pathetic.

        He didn't want this. He didn't want the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why did they bother to save him? What was he supposed to do? What did they want from him so badly that they had been willing to sacrifice their own to rescue him?

        Why are you crying?

        Once upon a time, Mahaado might have reached out to comfort his pharaoh. But Mahaado had been weak then. That was apparent when Bakura killed him and then his pharaoh. No, Mahaado was dead, just like his pharaoh. And all that was left in his place was the Black Magician, who had no comfort to offer to anybody.

        Well, almost.

        Silently, wordlessly, he shoved Yuki into his pharaoh's arms. Yuki grumbled, displeased with the harsh treatment, but that was of no concern to him.

        Only duty was left in place of love.

        He wanted you to have it. A gift. You abandoned it when you ran away, but it has been here for you regardless. It will always be here for you, no matter what you do. Just like him. Just like Yuugi. He's been waiting for you all this time, and it is past time you repaid him the favor.

        "Yuugi's gone."

        It was the first time in a long while he had said the name out-loud.

        What are you holding then? Cotton, fur, yarn, and thread? It's more than that pharaoh. Even you should know that. Even you cannot forget love as strong as that when it is in your arms.

        Do nothing if it is what you want, pharaoh. I cannot stop you. I can only attempt to guide you so that you may choose correctly.

        There are two doors. But they both lead to the same fate. It is not a matter of which door you choose; rather, you must choose if you will open a door.

~@*

        He didn't miss Ryuuji, really. He didn't have any reason to do so. The green-eyed man was nothing more than a lovely distraction from the harsh realities of life, and thus did not need to be missed.

        That is what he told himself, at least, in an attempt to alleviate the pain that he felt from his loss.

        Except it had already been established that he didn't miss him.

        What did it matter that there was something fascinating about his lover? Something alluring, something that (if he was truthful with himself) he simply could not live without.

        Live….

        He didn't want to accept his love. Really, he didn't. But what did it matter? Anyone with half a brain and minimal observation skills knew there was something going on between the two.

        Anyone except him and Ryuuji, both of which were convinced it was nothing more than a business arrangement.

        Seto bit his lip as he looked into the mirror. It was cracked. Broken. Yet the number of times he had woken to see Ryuuji preening before it as if nothing was wrong.

        That was Ryuuji for you. He didn't seem to get the message that the world was most likely coming to an end, too busy combing his hair.

        His appearance today, however, was haggard. Tired.

        If he lied to himself, he would say that he was worried because of what Ryuuji might say to Yami no Malik. The secrets, those damnable secrets, which might very well damn them all to hell.

        Unfortunately for his sanity, he was sick of his lies. He wanted, desperately, the truth.

        Even if it meant that he would have to face the fact that he had come to love and depend on Ryuuji.

~@*

        And from the depths of the chosen room, a voice called out to him.

        "Mou hitori no boku?"

[18] You get a cookie if you know where that comes from. :)