As a gesture of sportsmanship, Seto let her have the first move. The chess set was of his own custom design, with pieces made of clear and frosted crystal. The queen of each set, the most valuable and versatile piece in a player's arsenal, had an ornate, carved dragon perched on her shoulder, with its armored tail snaking around her waist and its head raised proudly in a mighty roar to reveal rows of intricately carved teeth. The dragon of the white player was designed to look like a miniature version of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon: Seto's loyal companion in the Duel arena and on the board.
Now, he watched as Kisara's slender fingers brushed the polished top of the white dragon-queen, which she held up for inspection as she set up her pieces on her side of the board. A strange current of emotion swept through Seto's chest as she marveled at the tiny thing, wrapped around a clear blue-white chess piece almost the same color as her hair. Although he knew that it was irrational, he almost always insisted upon playing whites when he played chess with Mokuba, not for the strategic advantage-despite Mokuba's best efforts, he could still beat him without much of a struggle-but because he was the rightful master of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. The surge of emotion coursing through him now felt foreign to him-not quite jealousy, but something like an intense yearning. He shook his head, suddenly aware that he was staring intensely at Kisara. Her gaze flitted from the queen piece in her hand to Seto, and she smiled softly as she set the piece upon the board.
"It's pretty," she remarked. "The Blue-Eyes White Dragon, right?"
Seto nodded, feeling slightly off-balance as the tidal wave of emotions slowly began to cede. "You told me that you didn't play Duel Monsters," he responded, gathering his own frosted-glass pawns into his palm.
He found himself fixated on the gentle contours of her cheeks as her pale lips pressed together in amusement. "I don't," she said, "but everyone knows the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. It's…iconic."
Seto's face felt warm. "That's right." The soft lines of her face, the gentle glow of her pale hair as the sunlight hit her from behind through the frosted windows-Kisara was having a certain hypnotic effect on him that he was struggling to deny.
"Well, I think my pieces are set up," Kisara declared, folding her hands in her lap. "Waiting for you."
His heart rushed, and he felt strangely flustered as he set up his own pieces on his side of the board. He was keenly aware of Kisara's bright, watchful stare, and the way that it made his hands shake slightly, making it difficult to place the chess pieces on the board.
Mokuba jumped into the revolving doors that led to the Domino City General Hospital, heaving a sigh of relief as the rush of air-conditioning tickled his cheeks. The air outside was stiflingly thick and humid, and running all the way to the hospital from Kaiba Corporation headquarters had left him drenched him with sweat that poured down his neck and pooled on his collarbones.
The security guard posted next to the elevator smiled politely at him, bowing her head as he passed-Mokuba wondered if she, too, knew the good news. He had become something of a fixture at the hospital during his brother's extended stay; Seto's health deteriorated quickly after his intake, which led to him catching an antibiotic-resistant strain of pneumonia. Mokuba visited dutifully between his responsibilities as the acting head of the Kaiba Corporation, though he was growing weary of the pitying looks that the nurses gave him as they passed him. Seto, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness since being rushed to the hospital, hadn't awoken in nearly a week, and had been unable to communicate with Mokuba for even longer.
Ding. Mokuba squeezed himself into the elevator as soon as its doors began to yawn open, narrowly avoiding crashing into a nurse dressed in teal scrubs. The nurse looked familiar to Mokuba; he recognized the man's kind, almond-shaped eyes, which crinkled slightly as the man smiled broadly at him.
"You must have heard about your brother," the nurse remarked, punching the button to the fourteenth floor-the Intensive Care Unit, where Seto currently resided.
Mokuba nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat that left him incapable of speaking. They rode in silence together, and Mokuba tilted his head up to look at their reflections on the polished glass ceiling, staring up at his violet-eyed reflection.
Ding. Mokuba huffed impatiently as the elevator settled to a stop, shifting from one foot to the other. He was mentally racing down the hallway, pulling back the curtain that separated Seto's hospital room from the hallway, collapsing into his brother's arms…
"Have a good day, Mokuba," the nurse called after Mokuba as he took off down the hallway, raising one arm in a distracted salute.
x
The sight of Seto's bright blue eyes, wide open and facing the door, brought a wave of relief so strongly upon Mokuba that he collapsed to his knees. His brother's face was gaunt and pale, his eyes sunken and heavy despite days of sleep; his body, hidden under the thin hospital blanket, was fragile, but he was awake and alive.
"Nii-sama," Mokuba breathed, climbing to his knees. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt only dimly aware of the stinging sensation in his scuffed palms.
"Mokuba." Seto's bed was propped up to put him into a sitting position, and he shifted his weight slightly to bring himself upright. "Hey, kid."
Mokuba flopped onto the chair next to Seto's bed, leaning across the bed and wrapping his arms around his brother's bicep. The powder-blue hospital gown is gone, replaced by a fuzzy grey flannel sweatshirt-Mokuba has passed by this exact garment countless times in the gift store window, Seto must have ordered a change of clothes-that soaks up the tears that trickle down Mokuba's cheek.
After a moment, Mokuba looked up to study his brother's face. "I thought you were going to die," he said finally, feeling the lump return to his throat.
"I wouldn't leave you, Mokuba," Seto said solemnly. "I promise."
A prickle of irritation lanced through Mokuba's spine, and he bit back an immediate retort about the Quantum Cube/space station/launching himself into the afterlife in pursuit of the pharaoh, but he simply nodded, adjusting one of the thin tubes feeding oxygen into his brother's nose.
"You must be tired," Mokuba remarked finally.
Seto shook his head slightly. "I missed you," he said suddenly.
Confused, Mokuba tilted his head, allowing himself to stare at his brother.
Seto's voice was quiet and shaky. "This is my fault."
It is. Mokuba nodded slowly, averting his eyes from the agonized expression on his brother's face. An eerie stillness, broken only by the steady stream of flashes and beeps coming from Seto's patient monitor, settles over the room.
A thought dawned on Mokuba, and before he could think of a reason to repress it, he burst out, "Seto, why don't we play a game?"
A glimmer of hope brightened Seto's somber expression. "We don't have…"
"Come on, we own the biggest gaming company in the world, bro. We can figure something out." Grinning brightly at his brother's positive response, Mokuba reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver device. "I didn't bring any of my consoles, because I came straight from a meeting. But for now, we can play chess on my cell phone." He booted up the game. "If you get tired, we can save the game for later."
Seto smiled softly. "We haven't played chess together since...since…" Neither of them had talked about the orphanage in years. Mokuba shivered as he saw the shadows of memories flash behind his brother's bright blue eyes.
"I know," Mokuba said, placing his hand over his brother's as he offered his cell phone to him. "Maybe I've gotten better at it since then, you know. I've been practicing. I'll even let you go first."
"So, you're good at chess." Kisara's sapphire eyes narrowed as she studied the game board for a moment, then advanced one of her pawns out of the range of Seto's frosted-glass knight. "Where'd you learn?"
Seto froze, caught off-guard by her innocent question. "My...father taught me when I was a child. But it wasn't until a few years later that I discovered my true aptitude for the game." His voice was cool and veiled; there was a wealth of memories attached to his love of the game, but he held them back. She left her rook unguarded. Seto's lips curled with pleasure that Kisara had taken his bait, and moved his bishop across the board to take her rook.
Kisara tsk-ed her tongue with displeasure as Seto placed her rook alongside his other captured pieces. Briefly, Seto's eyes met hers, before she quickly looked away.
"I'm sorry," Kisara said softly. A pale pink flush was climbing up her cheeks, and the bright color stood out starkly against the snowy color of her hair. "I didn't mean to…"
Seto shook his head. "It's fine," he said shortly. "I don't need your pity."
Kisara recoiled quickly as if she had been stung, and the hand that she had extended to move one of her bishops knocked over a few of her pawns, still lined up in their starting position. Seto felt an uncomfortable soreness rise in his throat at the shame that was obvious in Kisara's hunched shoulders and averted eyes. He hadn't meant to snap at her, but he hated being spoken to with pity…
"You didn't know," he said simply, righting Kisara's pawns. "Don't waste your time worrying about it."
Shyly, Kisara glanced at him through a veil of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "I don't know what to say, about…that," she responded hesitantly, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I don't know the right words."
"There are none." Having reconstructed the setup of the game board, Seto leaned back and rested his palms on the floor. "It isn't your fault."
Kisara nodded slowly. Her lips pressed together, and her dark blue eyes narrowed with concentration. For a moment, it looked as if she were about to say something, but she looked away, heaving a soft sigh.
"My past made me the man I am today," Seto said. The familiar burn of conviction eased away the lump in his throat as he added, "The trials that I went through with Gozaburo...the loss of my parents. I have worked hard to make sure that they were not for nothing. I won't live in the past, and I won't dwell on the ghosts that live there." Images of the pharaoh, watching him with wide indigo eyes, staring down from his throne, swam into his consciousness, and he struggled to keep his voice down as he fought them away. "I don't feel sorry for myself, and I suggest you follow suit."
She looked up, staring at him from across the board. He lifted his chin proudly, surprised and impressed by her sudden burst of courage. There was no hint of pity on her face, but her expression was still gentle and kind. A chill ran through Seto's spine, and he felt overwhelmed by the empathy in her eyes as she looked at him. How long had it been since anyone but Mokuba had regarded him so warmly?
"Alright, then," Kisara said at last, dipping her head in assent. "I think I understand that now, Seto."
The eagerness in her voice caught Seto off-guard, and he found his lips curling into a broad, pleased smile before he could stop himself. "Okay, Kisara," he responded. A warm feeling spread through his chest, and his heart pounded with excitement. Something about Kisara was stirring up emotions he hadn't felt in years-not since he was a teenager, not since…
"Well then." Kisara flashed him a determined grin, and leaned forward slightly, moving her bishop across the board. "Let's finish this game, shall we?"
x
/takes forever to update bc has been in the weeds for weeks at work (when your cloning isn't working, re-make your antibiotic stocks, people. also, amp degradation in LB+amp is too real :P)
This sounds weird and silly, but it's legitimately so humbling to know that people are...reading? things that I'm writing? what? thank you for sharing this angsty Blueshipping journey with me ^^ I'm slow at updating (both bc writing is hard and my real life can be hectic sometimes), but I have a lot of ideas that I'm excited to bring into motion sooner rather than later.
-Mei
