This story belongs to Melzart, and the Yu-Gi-Oh! franchise belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.
So I said that this chapter was really moving... well, I guess that's up to personal opinion. Having read through it several times, it isn't as profoundly affecting. The majority of the reason why I was struck was because I had unconsciously made an assumption about the conclusion of the story (which I've now finished) which turned out to be false. Anyway, here's your chapter.
Chapter 25
At the Foot of the Great Oak Tree
The woman she saw in the fucking mirror was like many that she had seen before; however, she no longer counted the number of bruises or wounds. In total, she would sum them up, nothing missing from the medical dictionary except cancer and disease.
Barely twenty years old and so cruelly broken down to the bone, including – most importantly – herself; her side, an ankle, a leg, a fractured arm. Nothing could stop the assaults. That was ignoring, of course, the most terrible time that her head had flew full force into the wall when he threw her there before slamming it back into it over and over. She had received a serious concussion from the incident.
When she thought about it, the only moment of calm that she had known was during her pregnancy, when the hand which hit her so hard had proved to be more merciful; she had received nothing but minor blows in comparison to all of those which left both visible and invisible traces but which never went away, not even with time.
Richard, her partner for two years, was of an almost immeasurable violence. And she could have never found the courage to distance herself from him, principally due to a lack of financial autonomy. But above all, the punishment, the boomerang effect, had proved to be more horrid once she tried running away.
She knew full well that this could not continue, convinced that sooner or later his fingers would again meet her skin. But despite the feeble increase in strength and will in her bosom as she lived consumed in anger and disgust at the way she was treated, she had still never managed to leave him.
But she understood that at least one of the two of them couldn't stay; there was only one thing left to do.
Oh yes, the very bitter scene was playing over for what had to be the thousandth time, now so familiar to her eyes; a torn lip decorated with a small gash whence poured blood; an eye and part of a cheek swollen until they were almost purple. Yes. Just like every time that that terrible hand struck her face, she would sit there astonished for a long time before a little calm – the sound of the door slamming as he left – would finally come to haunt her, if just for a few moments.
Just like every time, a terrible fight was being waged inside of her – she hated herself for being so weak and powerless, totally at the mercy of the insane psychopath incapable of demonstrating the least bit of respect, the least restraint for her or for anyone who approached too closely.
But one month none of those rules had come into play. She had become pregnant, despite all of her silent prayers that it wouldn't happen. But unhappiness does not come alone. It was not the unborn child who was the cause of all of this, who was his partner in crime. It was the time and the spouse who were so bad.
And then whispers of hope reached her ears, a completely demented windstorm, which told her that maybe his behavior would change with her birth. It seemed to be the case for the first few months. He had to have read – heard somewhere, perhaps – that it was the most fragile period of pregnancy, because his habitual behavior after the three months had passed. He was simply too impulsive, too inclined to violence, to be reasonable.
It was just that she didn't know what to do anymore or where she could go. Nobody to turn to for help. Nobody that he didn't already know. There was no place that he couldn't find her.
Completely destroyed, distraught by all of the pain, no door existed between her and the world; she was prisoner to domestic violence, trapped in his savage straitjacket.
But what idea had gone through her mind to make her leave her family cocoon – her mother, the only one still living – to go live with such a sick man before she had hardly entered adulthood?
She hadn't seen it coming. Her inexperience – freshly adult at eighteen – hadn't prepared her for the severity of things. Plus, for the several months that they had been dating, he had always seemed very kind, masking his compulsions. She had honestly thought that he would be her man for life, despite her mother's objections to the matter. But she had disobeyed her, ignored the omens. When one is young, one thinks it'll end up okay; life is trusted, as are its methods. One cannot foresee that there are enemies lurking, waiting to drag one into the shadows to bend and break and prune as if one were a rosebush. Wasn't the future supposed to be built on hope?
This particular afternoon, she tried to regain control of her senses, still completely taken aback by her latest struggle, which had finished several minutes earlier.
However, this time, something had just changed. The only family which remained to her, her mother, had recently passed away due to cancer two weeks ago, and she had just inherited almost a quarter of a million dollars. Of course, Richard was undeniably ogling the fortune as if it were his own. To profit, keep his vice-grip on her. He knew that by force and with threats, sooner or later, he'd get his hands on the money just like he did everything else. It was a sufficiently high monetary amount that she could hope, still always temporarily, to aspire to a better quality of life with her little girl, an infant now thirteen months old and who had, until then, avoided being the subject of his violence.
Only, this particular afternoon, he had not only dared to slap her hard several times but had even thrown her onto the couch as if she were some sort of object. It was when she was trying to protect her that he had once again turned on her and inflicted upon her more grave damage.
It was too much. It was maybe an action which, unconsciously, she feared, and she hoped to put an end to this hellish life.
Now financially secure, she was ready to give it her all; to flee with her child to the other side of the planet so that he would no longer be part of the equation.
And she knew that he wouldn't have the tools to follow her. That was all that mattered.
Although she hadn't warned anyone, she was more determined than ever to act fast.
Before the atrophied face in the mirror, she fought to catch her breath, swearing that this was over. Richard had gone too far. He had to submit to the evidence – he would never change.
But the time to change had arrived. Without him.
After checking to make sure that the little girl was fine, that nothing was broken, she had hurried to reassure her by holding her in her arms and softly rocking her. By the time she had lost count of the kisses she had placed on her forehead, the little girl finally fell asleep, safe in the arms of her mother.
She immediately rushed back over to the mirror where she tried in vain to use washcloths soaked in cold water to sponge up the blood still running out of her busted lip.
But anger and hatred had almost cleaved her in two. An indication that she had finally reached the point of no return.
She was going to leave, her little girl in one arm and a suitcase in the other, as light as possible to not encumber her escape. It was all she needed.
Rapidly, she ran to the bedroom and yanked it open to hurriedly throw inside what was strictly necessary for two before closing it again.
Then she reawakened the little girl a few seconds later to clothe and feed her before departure; they still had time, because Richard would not come back from work for a few hours.
Again, she held the baby against her as if to draw from her all of the courage she needed before walking out through the front door once and for all.
Yes, in several hours, they would be free; there was finally a new life on the horizon, which she hoped would exceed all of her expectations.
She gently took the little girl in one arm, her suitcase in the other hand, then headed towards the door. She didn't have the time to even put the suitcase down to open the door before it opened before her. The terrible man had come back prematurely, standing at his full height upon seeing the suitcase on the ground and realizing what was happening.
"Going somewhere?"
She went to babble a few words, yet was incapable of emitting a single one, already terrified by the reaction that what she had done would engender. And she suddenly began to shake.
Yes, I'm leaving, you bastard, so get out of my way. Let me leave. I can't do this anymore.
It was without a doubt too much to ask.
Richard did not blow up right away; instead, he ripped the infant out of its mother's arms.
"She stays here. If she leaves, it's with me. And you will never see her again, I promise you," he told her in one of the malicious voices she had ever heard.
She remained frozen where she was. Her entire body was shouting for her little girl. She had to have her to leave this place. But her plan was crumbling before her eyes, because he knew what it was now.
Suddenly, he shoved her to the ground, carelessly tossing the child into an armchair.
"Actually…you're not going anywhere, either!" he shouted as his anger began to finally unveil itself.
She rapidly glanced over at her daughter to assure herself that she was okay before trying to stand again.
But he didn't leave her the time; his foot made contact with her breast and she collapsed again onto the floor as he then slid it over her throat to purposefully stop her from breathing. He even took a certain pleasure in watching her squirm, trying in vain to free herself.
He's going to kill me…
Then he pulled his foot back before bending down to grip her solidly by the arm.
"You dirty little bitch. You really think I'm going to let you leave with my child?"
He punched her in the nose, and it immediately began pouring with blood. She felt that he might have broken it as the pain that she felt was so gravely intense.
"Why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve this?" she screamed as she began to become blinded by tears and her rage climbed ever higher.
"Shut up!" he roared as he pinned her against the wall.
A new pair of blows rained down upon her face.
Then he joyfully let her once again tumble to the floor, proud of the force he had used on the frail creature.
In no time he had picked the little girl back up in his arms.
"We're leaving. And if you see her ever again, you'll be very lucky," he hissed, voice filled with hate.
This time, she stood, despite the pain. She was going to fight, even if she didn't know how. But her heart was telling her to go to help her infant. Because, she was persuaded to think, she was as in much danger as she herself was. Yes. She was going to cope, leave. There wasn't even a choice to make.
With a war cry, she ran in his direction, raising her arms to try to take back the little girl in her hands. But as he amused himself in turning his back to her so that she couldn't reach her, she surprised herself as the inevitable happened – in her anger, she managed to successfully hit him clean in the face, which made him even more outraged, him, who had thought himself passably calm until then.
Had she honestly thought that she could stop him with just one blow? Unlike her, he could.
"Oh, bitch. You shouldn't have dared."
Again, he placed the little girl on the floor and slapped the mother over and over, paying no heed to the shrieks of fear coming from the infant who was surely understanding what was happening now despite her age. At least, she felt that something horrible was going on, and she was crying.
Her mother heard her screams of panic and pain, feeling them almost as if she were emitting them personally. She tried to protect her but he once again got in her way. Blood was running over all of her clothes and even stained Richard's fists as he slowed down, his way of calming himself. He then kicked her, and she fell once more to the ground, more and more numbed by the pain.
Once he believed his job was done, he turned on his heels to pick the little girl back up again.
Trapped in a pool of her own blood, the mother tried to stand, but was incapable of doing so completely, falling back onto the floor.
She grabbed onto his ankle with both of her hands, resolute not to see him leave with her daughter, whom she might never see again.
Again he gave her two good kicks to the face to make her let him go, which proved to be in vain. He lost his balance and began to tip over backwards, falling into a black, wooden piece of furniture in the foyer which he knocked over upon impact. As he fell to the floor, the black wood structure toppled and smashed to pieces on the mother's back, causing her to finally black out.
It was much more than she could possibly endure, already too weakened by the beating she had already received. Her body could do no more. But in her soul, she remembered just one thing before fainting: her little girl.
. . . . . . . . .
"You're alright. You're in good hands," the feminine voice kept saying as she struggled to open her eyes.
She found herself in a hospital room, which she could affirm with no doubt in her mind because it wasn't her first visit – or her first time waking up – inside of one.
Frenetically, she looked around the room for a strongly needed presence. A presence she could not find.
"Calm down," the nurse was repeating. "Relax… it will be alright…"
But it sounded like she was choking back a sob.
Despite her kind words, her patient was quite rebellious as her hand waved around, trying to find something which she could use as a stabilizer as she tried to sit up.
"I want to see my daughter… where is she?"
Quite compassionately, the nurse pressed her to lay back down.
"Later… you have to rest for a while, understand?"
The young patient, crushed in her own suffering and the effort of fighting her own body as it seemed to be becoming heavier and heavier, finally fell back into her sheets.
The door was closed but she could hear footsteps and carts darting about in the hallway outside. That was finally what woke her up.
My daughter…
The thought that hadn't left her, even in her deepest sleep, kept forcing itself to the front of her mind. She was dying with worry and remorse was tearing apart her heart; had he fled with her? Had he just succeeded in causing her even more harm than he had ever previously done?
But she remembered what happened before she completely lost consciousness. Once again, she had proved totally incapable of protecting her. Worse, she hadn't even managed to deliver her own child out of the arms of a tyrant.
She managed to stand, still in much pain, and then sit back down before the door finally opened to reveal the doctor in charge of her recovery.
"Hi," he said softly as she thought he always had to when he came to inspect her wounds.
Her entire body hurt her, from head to toe.
"You were really lucky. You were just a couple of inches away from being paralyzed for life," he said as if thinking this would reassure her.
He was talking about the gash she had sustained when the piece of furniture fell on top of her.
"But it's fine… all that will be there once it heals is a tiny scar, barely visible. Don't worry," he said.
But that was the least of her worries. She was still alive and every part of her body, each one as worn as every other, united to remind her of something.
"Doctor…" she murmured, interrupting him before he could continue with his medical spiel. "All I want… is to see my daughter, alright?"
The features on the doctor's face darkened, as if bothered by the question.
"Oh!" she said. "He left with her and you don't know where they are? Is that right?"
The man noticed the panic that washed over the patient's face. Even the tone of her voice betrayed her.
He left himself a moment of silence before very hesitantly responding.
"Er… yes, we found them."
He again let his thoughts drag out.
He then sighed heavily.
"Actually, your husband did in fact leave with your child…but…"
But what?
He chose to clear his throat, disgusted by the news that he had been cornered into unveiling.
"…there was a car accident…"
She flinched, profoundly affected by his every word.
"What? When?"
Answer me! Tell me what happened!
"…three days ago. You slept a long time… you had to recuperate."
"Stop!" she screamed, the shock now dangerously mixing into the anguish.
He sputtered slightly.
"I'm sorry…" he breathed, really quite sympathetically. "The little girl… didn't survive. I'm so sorry… we couldn't do anything to save her."
. . . . . . . . .
It was cold.
A thick carpet of snow covered the frozen earth, stretching up to the trees whose naked branches seemed heavily petrified in ice.
From a long distance away, Kaiba had followed Naomi, who had just stopped at the foot of a giant oak tree.
He knew it: there resided all of her weakness, her existential scourge, the demon; just in the shadow of the giant tree was the small, fragile tombstone of a little girl who was laid to rest there.
Her daughter.
Naomi shivered, visibly unsure of whether she should stay or keep on the move.
Hidden behind a tree a little ways away, Kaiba missed none of the moving reunion. His heart was caught in an invisible clamp, tortured by events which never should have normally affected him. But yet… he was suffering. He was suffering so much, as if his heart was the same as Naomi's, who had let herself fallen to her knees before the snowed-over stone.
If only he had been there. None of this would have ever happened. He would have protected her. He would have protected them. At least he never would have felt this gangrene take over his heart, a mixture of helplessness and guilt.
Just like every time she suffered, hiding the worst of her humiliation, the most destructive secrets of her existence – he hadn't been there.
Except today, on the first of February.
She wiped away the snow with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on the unmoving stone. More tenderly than ever, her lips came to press against the stone, as if it were the forehead of a young child.
"I'm sorry… for not having been there… for not having been strong… not even for you… especially not for you," she murmured.
There, in the middle of nowhere, in this immense white Sahara, an ocean of tears began to pour out of her eyes, covering Naomi's face as her arms tightened around the tombstone as if hugging some small, invisible body.
Between the litanies and the silence, the screams and wails brutally punched holes in the ears – and the soul – of Seto Kaiba, whose clenched fists were shaking. And that compared nothing to the pain tearing apart his insides, from his stomach to his throat.
He was supposed to be a strong and powerful man. But his empire only extended over the realm of the living.
He remained motionless, his eyes on the ground with his head bowed, cruelly afflicted by Naomi's utter devastation.
He could do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Naomi's cries of fury redoubled and were soon accompanied by violent blows as she punched the icy ground with her fists, despite the invincible power of her immobile adversary.
She was dumping there all of the years of bitterness and pain kept inside as she erred the world like a phantom.
Kaiba shivered under the torture of being unable to hold her, even help her in her fight. Together, they might have been able to do something.
Go on.
No! I can't. I have no right.
She would never forgive me.
Again, his ears almost deformed by those unbearable cries, Kaiba forced himself to not turn away.
She had slowed her frantic pace, as if her opponent had finally won and had taken all of her strength. Wiped out, she had stretched out completely on the ground, overtop of the burial site, one arm wiping away the snow as if she were still trying to hold the child in her arms.
But no sound came from her lips any longer.
Kaiba was breathing heavily, burned by the acidic tears sparkling in his blue eyes, as if all of the glaciers which touched his internal sky were in the process of melting.
She needs you.
He fought fiercely against the pressing urge to race towards her, although one part of him decided to let her mourn alone.
He was worried that she would get a cold, that she would catch some deadly illness.
What if that was what she wanted?
Kaiba bristled with determination.
I won't let her do that. I won't let her.
. . . . . . . . .
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
But if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just to real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face – it haunts my once pleasant dreams,
Your voice - it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real,
There's just too much that time cannot erase…
. . . . . . . . .
Time was passing by cruelly slowly; Naomi hadn't moved for many interminable minutes. Fifteen, thirty maybe, still laying upon the white carpet. The warmth of her body had long ago melted her silhouette into the snow. She wasn't even shivering anymore, caught deep in the worst of her nightmarish memories.
She had felt frozen for a while.
But she no longer felt anything anymore. And the silence which had fallen over the cemetery suddenly flooded inside of her, calming her tormented spirit for what seemed like the first time in an eternity. And she no longer moved, totally incapable of budging any part of her body. On her face the frozen tears had dug red canals.
How much time had she been here?
Hours? Days?
Years?
Running away, catching up?
Alexandra… Seto.
It was odd how he hadn't left her mind, either.
He had been the only real happiness that she had felt in her miserable existence. And it had been so short.
She had needed to flee him, because she was sure she didn't deserve him.
Little mattered now.
She wallowed in the complete numbness of body and mind.
She didn't hear Kaiba walk up behind her, hesitantly.
Without a word, he crouched down carefully, putting his arm around her to allow her to stand, so delicately it was as if he was afraid she would turn to dust if he deign touch her.
In an almost inaudible voice, and without even looking at him, she whispered, very quietly, with a certain delight:
"… Se…to…?"
Was she already so far beyond the edge that dreams were beginning to wrap her in their comforting coat?
Would it be the last thing she would see before departing this world?
"Yes," he breathed, concernedly in the process of holding her softly to him.
"What the – "
I don't want to wake up…
But Naomi's voice suddenly gave, completely frozen and too much in a state of shock to tell apart reality from fantasy. She began to shiver furiously upon contact with Seto, whose body began to warm hers.
He rubbed her arms and her back with his one hand, taking care to keep her held to him with the other.
But he kept silent, conscious that it was the time to respect those in eternal slumber.
Roland rushed rapidly towards them with thermal blankets, which he hurriedly threw around Naomi's shoulders.
But it was Kaiba who took her into his arms as he brought her back to the car.
Still largely silent, she shivered the entire way towards to a splendid chalet at the foot of a mountain, her head leaning on Seto's shoulder, who, cursing both gods and men alike, stared out of the window.
Kaiba had understood that her mind had still to reintegrate with her body, and that she was still emerging out of her lethargy.
So he lifted her in his arms to take her inside the cottage, where he took off her soggy clothes and wrapped her in several large blankets, keeping his eye on her to verify her physical state; her eyes were puffy and red from the combination of tears and cold.
But she did not return any of his worried glances; she remained in an immutable silence, eternally mournful.
However he didn't doubt that this was just the calm before the storm. He was going to have to answer for his inopportune presence and the knowledge he had long quite indiscriminately possessed; in following her, he had opened himself up to her anger. But he chose to be honest. He had as well made the choice to keep her back once again, terrified and more aware than ever that she never would have been able to deal with this alone.
He had followed her, scared to lose her, even though he was to face the repercussions. But he wouldn't back down without a fight.
For hours Naomi obstinately stayed silent, her eyes nailed to the roaring fire before her, trying to sort through her incoherent thoughts.
"You…"
Kaiba's body froze where he stood, facing the window in whose reflection he was watching her.
It's starting. Be brave, Kaiba, he said to himself, knowing in advance which words would come out of Naomi's mouth.
"…followed…me?"
Kaiba closed his eyes, then reopened them, sighing slightly to give himself countenance.
"Yes."
Naomi's voice quavered lightly.
"You dared…"
In her heart of hearts, she felt betrayed.
Kaiba swallowed, hard, knowing the worst was yet to come.
"And… you knew?" she asked, stopping herself from exploding with anger.
Again his eyes closed.
"Yes," he admitted honestly.
Naomi stopped.
"…for how long?"
He sighed again loudly.
"…the beginning," he admitted, his stomach knotted with incertitude.
Her anger and bitterness began to tear at her, and Naomi had to fight to hold back a new wave of tears which were beginning to come to her eyes.
"That's not true," she said.
Kaiba turned around to face her, wondering how he wasn't rushing towards her.
"You lied to me. You betrayed me…"
"NO!" he yelled, voice firm.
She suddenly shot upwards, whipping around to show him her backside as he raced towards her to attempt to hold her in his arms.
"Nobody escapes Seto Kaiba, right? NOBODY!" she cried, a marked pain in her voice. And she was shaking in rage and disappointment.
"You think you have every right… you had every right except THIS ONE!" she screamed at him again, her pardon now nigh impossible to acquire.
"It's not what I – " he began to defend himself.
"SHUT UP!" she shrieked, cutting him off. "I HATE YOU!"
Kaiba's body tensed sharply, as if the words were a gunshot blow.
Anything but that… try to understand…
He went to place his hand on her shoulder but she backed away in fury.
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" she ordered him as she dodged.
Kaiba was shaking now, as if his body were about to tumble apart into pieces onto the floor.
I deserve this, I know… I know it hurt you…
"Listen to me!" he implored her.
"NO!"
"I swear I would have never wanted to know," he admitted to her.
"NO! YOU WANTED TO! Because you have to know everything! No matter what! And once you have what you want the rest doesn't matter!" she yelled, finally revealing her tears.
"STOP! That's not true!" he protested loudly.
She sighed, visibly beyond annoyed.
"You only think about yourself."
Her every word was like being stabbed in the heart. It was like she trying to kill him, and she had no qualms in doing so.
"That's true. I only thought about myself…" he admitted timidly.
"…until I met you…"
A very short silence came between them, but to the nervous Kaiba, it took an eternity.
"I don't want to hear any more!" she snapped after a pause.
"Wait – "
"Leave me alone!"
This time she didn't leave him any time to respond as she flew into one of the bedrooms and slammed the door behind her.
Kaiba stood, immobile, in the middle of the living room for a long time, completely thunderstruck.
Only Naomi's voice was resonating in his head.
I hate you
I hate you
. . . . . . . . .
She didn't sleep that night. Not any more than Seto, who was curled up on the couch, too stunned to know how to react, searching in vain for a way to pick up the thousands of invisible shards he knew to be littering the room.
He didn't even dare to raise his head when the bedroom door opened and Naomi came to sit lightly on the coffee table in front of him. She couldn't dare look at him, either.
As if they had become complete strangers, a feeling of defeat swept through Kaiba's soul, now expecting the worst.
I lost. She wants nothing of me anymore…
"I… I don't think you came all this way just to see me suffer…"
Let me finish!
As if he had heard her, Kaiba closed his mouth before he could pronounce a single syllable.
"I also don't believe that what you must have learned was too pleasant. And I don't know why you're still here…"
For the first time since last night, Kaiba's body seemed to uncoil.
"I know you weren't thinking about yourself… you wouldn't be here if you were…"
She paused, too choked up, too exhausted.
"But that hurt me, Seto. It hurt me a lot. Even if it's not what you meant to do…"
She knows.
Kaiba found that a slight relief, but he kept listening without a word.
"I was in a state of shock… I still am, I think…"
He tenderly tried to take her hand.
To his immense pleasure, he didn't try to avoid his touch.
She even seemed to be ashamed.
"…and…I realize now… that I was very selfish, also."
This time, she dared to look at him.
"I also was only thinking about myself. I made you suffer and I didn't mean to… I didn't want to tell you anything, I wanted to keep you away from all of this. I could only think about escaping… you see? Everything catches up to me… even you."
No matter where I go, what I do… I see your face…
The tone of her voice indicated that she was begging.
"Please, Seto… please… let me go."
Kaiba flinched, as if punched in the stomach.
"What?"
"I would be even more selfish if I were to stay."
He tried to guess what she was thinking.
"I'm not… I can't give you any children, Seto. I'm not strong enough… and I have no right to deprive you of them. It would be an injustice."
She was insistent again.
"So I'm begging you. Let me go."
Kaiba remained speechless, simultaneously disappointed and relieved.
"Naomi," he managed to breathe as he pulled her towards him.
How could she think that he only wanted her for the sole purpose of making a family?
"I want you to be happy."
Kaiba infinitely welcomed Naomi's fall into his arms, knowing that she was finally abandoning herself to him.
"I know… I know…" he murmured softly in her ear.
But Naomi began to cry again, her fists lightly beating against Kaiba's chest.
"She was so beautiful… so little, Seto… why her and not me? Tell me!"
I'm here, Naomi…
He felt so devastated by pain he thought he might be sick.
His embrace tightened around her.
… if you want to talk about it, I'm here, even if it breaks my heart.
I will suffer with you.
Kaiba's blood was pulsing in his veins. He was beginning to think violently.
The bastard… I'll kill him, too, Naomi… if I meet him, I'll kill him.
Kaiba fought harshly to keep up his appearance of being strong, despite the desire to kill which rippled through him and forced him to battle to keep himself calm and prove a comfort to her despite the rage and disgust which would no longer leave him. Even his body shook.
Reflexively Naomi firmly held herself in his arms, as if she had become again the young, fragile, innocent child she was had been.
"…and I couldn't do anything…"
Her voice was broken, choppy.
"Seto….I… I couldn't even hold her in my arms… not even one last time…"
Like…Molina?
Kaiba sat there, jaw clenched, horrified, fighting to keep his head clear. Even if he had known about her past in broad sketches, and despite what he had imagined, nothing could compare to the truth.
Naomi was gripping onto him, searching for protection.
But he had to admit that he was powerless once again to soothe her pain.
She kept crying for a long while, until falling out of fatigue, her strength now fully sapped away.
Oh, how he had feared this first day of February.
Kaiba affectionately took her in his arms and lifted her to a bed, where he took off her clothes and covered her back under the blankets.
He fed the fire with several more logs then himself slid beneath the covers, allowing himself to take in the sight of the creature he felt so strongly for.
No. Nobody will ever harm you ever again.
Instinctively, Naomi, partially asleep, went to move closer to him, putting her head on his torso as he wrapped her in his arms, more protective than ever.
Children?
What an idea! He hadn't thought of it before.
But…
I would love to have tons… with you…
It was too true that that was out of the question.
That was without a shadow of a doubt Naomi's greatest source of suffering. Why else would she have rejected so much, preferring to keep her distance from him? He wasn't going to pretend otherwise.
No happiness would compare to that he would feel if this woman were to give birth to his children one day.
Then again, no happiness could compare to that he felt just to know that this woman was close by.
If he had to spend a lifetime with her without his offspring growing up to sprinkle themselves over the four corners of the globe, so be it. He would accept that. Anything so that she would stay. Anything for her to love him a little more everyday for the man he truly was. Anything to wake up in the morning holding her in his arms.
As for the rest, maybe it was time for him to plead his case with her. Maybe the time had come to heal all wounds, the very same ones he was normally helpless to counteract.
Yes. As he thought back upon it, maybe there was still a little bit of hope.
Wasn't that all there was left?
I would lie if I denied fearing that I would lose you… you're there for me… and that's all that matters.
His arms wrapped even more lovingly about her warm, soft body.
Yes . Seto Kaiba was in love, for the first – and last – time in his life.
Crazily in love.
He had known for a long time now.
But only today did he dare to admit it to himself.
It was upon this confession that a real smile lit up his face and his eyes closed, taken by surprise.
It was a quiet movement which awoke him several hours later; he hadn't moved a muscle until Naomi raised her head to look at him.
How handsome he was.
Hadn't he done this all for her?
He didn't open his eyes right away. But she knew very well that he was no longer asleep.
She softly placed her hand on his chest and began to make a caressing, sweeping motion.
"You don't want to let me go?" she murmured again.
But Kaiba did not respond, persuaded that she still hadn't finished digging to the very bottom of his thoughts.
"Even with everything you know… what's still ahead…" she whispered, incapable of resigning themselves to a common fate.
"No," he breathed emotionlessly.
I'm scared of hurting you, Seto… of losing you, too…
Kaiba opened his eyes, and they were brimming with unbridled compassion.
But Naomi didn't look at them, instead laying her head back down on his body.
"I have something else to admit," she whispered, humility coating the sound of her voice.
But he didn't move, attentively waiting.
"Between the two of us…" she breathed, turning to face him, eyes watering, "…you're the stronger one."
Normally the confession would have filled Kaiba with happiness, having finally superseded his adversary. After all, it had always been a portion of his pride.
Only his heart was filled more with admiration than with pride.
He tenderly flipped her over, finding himself on top of her, and their noses touched.
"No," he muttered sincerely as he shook his head. "I don't think so, no."
I'm so proud of you…
She had given way before him, and in such little time.
Under differing circumstances, he might have actually told her that.
"I don't think so," he insisted, kissing her lips.
Her beautiful dark eyes were misted over, and appeared to be begging him.
Seto… I need you.
I Like she was speaking to him out loud – she was sure than he could hear her.
Make love to me… hold me tight against you…
Kaiba's lips grew more feverish on her own.
"Yes…" he said, practically inaudible.
Everything you want…
"Mokuba!" she suddenly yelped, bounding upwards in the bed and almost knocking him over, shaking the man who had been swimming in his passions.
"What?"
Mokuba?
"Where….? Seto, you didn't leave him alone back in Japan, did you?"
Kaiba laughed softly.
"Of course not."
How could he have forgotten his brother?
"He's nearby, in a neighboring chalet," he breathed. "Really not that far…"
Naomi sighed in relief.
But Kaiba held her to him, one arm around her waist.
"Come here… I wasn't through with you…" he said in a languorous growl.
"Again?" she murmured, slightly amused.
"Oh yes… again… and again… and again…" he sighed between kisses.
Since their bodies first touched, Kaiba took pleasure in every second of their delicious bodily 'exchanges'.
But two years before he would have been horrified.
He remembered how pathetic it had been to him – if not simply degrading – to do what he had believed to be the disgusting, despicable act of laying with another woman. He had managed it, not without contempt and a dash of hatred. And he had even rejected that first girl without deigning look back, as if she were a street whore. Just as he did with the two or three which followed. Because he had been incapable of the slightest feeling except a belief in the exigency of the act for the sole purpose of procreation. It was this which had pushed him to let go the idea of being part of a 'couple'.
But since Naomi, and that infamous first time, everything had changed in his perspective. Because he very deeply respected her after what he had learned. She was different, in his mind.
Of course, he wasn't insensitive to her grief, nor to her beauty, nor to her vulnerability.
Since then, the game had become a vital need, his desire never ceasing to grow each time it blossomed throughout his body as he would take hold of her flesh.
Yes, he would always come back for more.
Obsessed?
That's exactly what he was.
Obsessed with her.
* My Immortal, Evanescence.
Alright, another comment. I like the next chapter, too. Well... the first half. I am warning you now: the second half of chapter twenty-six is an explicit sex scene. And not necessarily a lovey-dovey one. You know how I normally divide chapter sections with nine dots? I'm planning on using nine tildes as a warning to those who don't want to get into that sort of thing. Those people should stop reading the chapter there, pretty much. I'll say this again in a pre-chapter note next time, but I wanted to get this out there.