Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

The Butterfly Effect

Chapter LXXV

It was the only time, the only moment, that I was glad I hung around the people that I did. That my big brother hung around Jonouchi and that I had been lucky enough to deal with Death-T and its consequences.

Because I would not have reacted at the speed I had if I hadn't.

I turned around and ran. Dodged the closer explosions as I heard Lilith's laughter slowly become swallowed by said explosions and the debris while I went for the chair. I kicked the thing and took cover underneath it, praying to anyone that would hear me to keep said chair intact long enough to keep me safe. I flinched as the debris hit me, causing nicks and bruised that I hoped, prayed wouldn't turn into anything worse like a snapped neck.

And when silence finally swallowed the area, I had to do everything in my power not to shake, not only coming to terms with the fact that this match had both no point, but was more indicative of Lilith's mentality than I wished.

She hadn't just believed us the same. She'd believed us both expendable.

If winning or losing had any significance to Lilith, it ultimately had not mattered. She'd been more than certain that she would win against a weaker mind, my mind, but if she hadn't believed in a chance of me escaping if I won, she would not have made her stage and her rules the way she had. She would have, probably given me a chance to escape.

She hadn't. Her belief in her views had been so damn tight, there was no way she could let me go, not when my escape meant that she'd not just lost the fight, but the war.

The idea that she'd not only volunteered but took her Master's words to heart… was almost terrifying in both their devotion and meaning.

No, I had not missed the fact that I had done the same. For a different cause, maybe, and for different people, but I had done the same. I had become so dedicated to saving or helping those that I cared for, that I believed in, that I had put everything on the line, even my life. Our causes might have been different, but we'd done the same thing.

What would have happened if I hadn't started to come clean? What would have happened if I hadn't decided that afternoon to tell Yami everything and made it clear that my first priority was to help Bakura in what I had done?

… And what would have happened if I had simply decided to get involved and acted as if I knew everything?

I felt my skin crawl, the need to get up and get some fresh air, making me quickly bang on the chair to make it move, only to nearly sink back unto the ground when I finally managed. I tried to breathe again, not sure whether to welcome the sun or stay where I was just a little longer, knowing that I had to move, but uncertain what to do next as one thought, and one thought only, ran through my mind.

I was glad I hadn't been. I was glad I had not taken the selfish route and had no desire to ever take it.

I took a breath, two, maybe, before standing and testing the shackles after disconnecting my Duel Disk. I sat back down, this time on the debris instead of under the chair when I realized that there was not breaking out of said shackles, not without help which I wasn't sure was arriving or even knew where I was.

"I don't care if it's dangerous! She's..."

And I only blinked when I heard a familiar voice, not only realizing that I had been wrong in thinking that rescue wouldn't arrive, or wouldn't know where to look after an explosion of that magnitude.

… I must have looked horrid for him to stop mid-sentence and blink at me before rushing forward only to hesitate once close enough. I must have looked almost ghastly if he wasn't sure what to say after yelling that much to his security guards.

I tried to smile and greet him, only to blink when Mokuba grabbed hold of my wrist — well, the shackle around my wrist — charcoal eyes drifting from me to the piece of metal and back. I tried to say that everything was fine but he only shouted over my words for a lock-pick to get me out of the shackles, which he started to do the second he was given the tools necessary. In fact, the only time it felt like I stopped trying was when he finally spoke to me, quiet and filled with something that I could only identify as heartwarming.

"… I'm sorry."

By the time I wondered if it was inappropriate for a hug, I had already grabbed him, stopping his entire process as part of my brain refused to care for decency.

"It's okay."

And the fact that he only returned it and said nothing about indecency felt like reassurance.