Chapter 11: Never Break the Chain
October 5
—Tokyo—
Three days later, Mokuba found himself staring up at Anzu's apartment building once more.
Almost done, Mokuba, he thought. Let's hope Anzu followed through on her end.
He didn't normally doubt Anzu—they'd been good friends for over a decade because of his trust in her—but he had asked her to get in touch with her ex and the guy he'd cheated on her with. That was a hard sell no matter who you were negotiating with.
But so far he'd managed to plan a birthday party, arrange a Duel Disk demonstration, set up a ski vacation, finagle an altered ad contract, make a fancy dinner reservation, get front-row tickets to a Christmas Eve performance of Millennium, trade a used car for a brand-new one in a fancy color, and arrange for both a dress for Anzu for the Olivier Awards and a suit for him for the upcoming exhibition.
Better yet, it had taken him less than the thirteen days Pegasus gave him before his birthday, so unless Anzu hadn't been able to assemble the libretto…
I can't think like that! Mokuba thought, striding toward the lobby. Everything else has worked out so far!
Shockingly, Seto's vacation was one of those things, even though it hadn't really been part of Mokuba's plan. After a week passed and Mokuba still hadn't heard from Seto, he got worried, but before he could freak out and ask Isono for the GPS coordinates of Seto's car, Seto called, saying he didn't see the point in coming in for just two days of the work week, and he'd be back instead on the Monday of the week following. He'd work remotely for two days, and return home over the weekend.
Mokuba found himself intensely curious about what Seto had been up to for the past week, but he decided he could wait until Seto was back home.
"Hey, it's me, I'm outside your front door," Mokuba pressed the intercom outside Anzu's posh apartment. A moment later and the door opened and Anzu emerged, surprisingly wearing a pair of gray sweats, with her hair done up in a messy ponytail.
"Uh, did I come at a bad time?"
Anzu frowned at him, "I called you and told you to come over, you goofball. I was just cleaning up. Come in." She turned and gestured to Mokuba to come inside and slip off his shoes before heading inside.
"Wow, this place looks totally different!"
Where before the floor had been littered with half-opened boxes and partially assembled furniture, now the place actually bore some resemblance to a home. Anzu had a matching glass-topped dining and living room table set, along with modern white cushioned chairs, and a plush-looking sofa sofa.
"I see you finally unwrapped your awards," Mokuba noted, gesturing at the three Tony Awards in Anzu's display case. Beside the silver medallions, a golden gramophone statuette sat, along with an assortment of other gleaming metal trophies.
"Hey, I worked my ass off to get where I am today," Anzu said. "I gave up a lot. I lost a lot." She looked wistfully out the nearby floor-to-ceiling window, at the neverending Tokyo skyline.
Mokuba didn't have to ask her for details; he already knew. "I know," he added softly. "I know."
"But," he brightened, "Like you wanted, you're going to go out with a bang. Here, put this on."
Mokuba handed her a silver cuff bracelet about 12 centimeters long. Anzu looked at it oddly before complying, sliding it on over her forearm.
"Okay, now what? Last I checked a dress and a bracelet aren't the same thing, Mokuba," Anzu told him.
"I know, I know! Press the little button on the outer edge, near your wrist."
As soon as Anzu did so, a beam of rainbow colored light shot out from a tiny projector on the edge of the cuff, coalescing into a familiar shape: a Solid Vision projection of Anzu, but one wearing a gorgeous scoop neck sleeveless dress the color of the night sky. Sparkling golden hieroglyphs covered the entire dress, from the straps all the way down to the flared mermaid skirt. Some appeared clear and sharp, while others seemed mottled and faded with age.
"Oh," Anzu gasped, her voice a breathy little whisper. "Mokuba, it's stunning."
She circled the projection with her mouth hanging open slightly, nodding in approval at each detail. "Oh, wow. I– I knew you had good fashion taste, but this, this—!"
"Well," Mokuba blushed. "I can't take all the credit. Mai-san helped."
"Mai-san?" Anzu froze and turned to Mokuba, the expression on her face nothing less than astonished. "Wh– How…?"
"Uh, long story short, I went to Paris Fashion Week and she was there, working for the same designer that acts as the liaison to Kaiba Corporation's wearable technology division."
"And she just helped you pick out a dress, just like that?"
"Pick out? Oh, no. This is a custom job," Mokuba replied proudly. "Mai-san told me that as soon as Jacques heard I ordered a dress on your behalf, he just whipped this together, figuring it would be perfect, since, you know, Millennium and all…" Mokuba gestured vaguely at all the hieroglyphs on the dress. "It'll be ready before the Oliviers, but it'll still take a few months to put together the real thing. It'll be one of a kind, just for you."
Anzu's eyes widened. "But—"
"No buts. I told you I would do anything, and I just hope you think I've delivered." Mokuba glanced hopefully at the flat, square box sitting all by its lonesome on Anzu's dining room table. He hoped that the finished libretto was inside.
Anzu followed his gaze and let out a protracted exhale. "Yes, you have, Mokuba." She walked over to the box and gingerly removed the white lid. Inside a bed of folded tissue paper sat a glossy hardcover book, the familiar silhouette of Yuugi—no, Atem—one arm aloft with a card pinched between two fingers. Underneath in uppercase English letters spanning the width of the book: MILLENNIUM. She held it in an outstretched hand to Mokuba and sat herself in one of the chairs.
"You did it," Mokuba breathed, taking the book in one hand and flipping through it. "I wasn't sure if you—" he cut himself off. "I don't doubt that you could do anything, Anzu," he explained. "But I wasn't sure if you would."
Nearly every page had photos from the show's early Broadway performances: some were mid-song, while others featured preparations for the show backstage, and still others from rehearsals, parties, award shows…. Page after page included typewritten notes explaining who was who, and how they came to work on Millennium.
Contrasting pull quotes stretched across the columns of text: reviews from critics, snippets from interviews, lines from the actors, musicians, and crew. And then came the show, broken down line-by-line, each stage direction present, with a thin column of footnotes and secrets revealed: changed lyrics, factual details, even anecdotes about how the lyrics, melody, and choreography came together.
Anzu let out a faint chuckle. "I wasn't either. But I remembered what you said, Mokuba. That I 'deserve to move on, to find happiness again.' I want that, too. And I knew I couldn't get it if I kept holding myself back by living in the past, holding onto hurt. And..." Anzu squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and offering Mokuba a brilliant smile. "And Atem wouldn't want me to stay like this, either. He'd want me to move on."
"Malik-san said the same thing," Mokuba mumbled under his breath.
"'Malik-san?'" Anzu echoed, both her eyebrows raised. "I wasn't aware you were still in touch with our erstwhile kidnapper."
"He's—" Mokuba paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "He said that if Atem taught him one thing, it's that you have to move on sometime. You have to move on from loss, from hurt, from the past in general. Isn't that what all of this—" Mokuba gestured to the Millennium libretto, "was about? Telling his story so it wouldn't be forgotten, but also so we could all process it and move on?"
Anzu nodded slowly. "I suppose. But what does that have to do with—" her lips quivered downward, as if she'd swallowed something particularly gross. "With Malik-san?"
"He's been trying to move on for years. Make up for everything that he did," Mokuba told Anzu, beginning to walk around her living room as he spoke. "He's been putting money back into the people and places he impacted when he ran the Rare Hunters and the Ghouls."
Mokuba spotted a loaf of bread sitting on a cutting board beside a small dish of a berry-colored jam. He pointed at the loaf and continued, "Did you know he's this hugely successful ViewTuber? But he doesn't do anything relating to Duel Monsters, or even to the Gravekeeper Clan. He has this show called Leavens of the Levant. He works super-hard every day, baking and filming and editing in three different languages! It's a wonder the guy ever sleeps."
Anzu looked down and let out a breathy laugh. "That's him? I've been subscribed to that channel for months. I had no idea."
"That was the whole idea," Mokuba said. "He didn't want people to associate him with the guy he used to be. That would prevent him from moving on, finding how who he wants to be now. You can understand that...right?"
"Yeah," Anzu whispered. "Yeah, I can."
"He apologized a whole lot, too. And you know what? I believe him. He'll be at the exhibition at the end of the month. Why don't you give him a chance?"
Anzu glanced up at Mokuba with a single eyebrow raised. "You realize Millennium's shows start in two days, right? You'll be lucky if you see me again before New Year's."
"Oh," Mokuba mumbled, his shoulders slumping.
Anzu rose from her seat and reached out to pat Mokuba on the shoulder. "Talk to our rep at Shiki. Get Malik and his family tickets to the show. They'll be here for at least a few days before and after the exhibition, right? I'm sure we can squeeze in a few more seats."
Mokuba hesitated. "They're going on a vacation to Germany with the Schroeders after the exhibition, but...Anzu, are you sure?"
Anzu shook her head and chuckled under her breath. "Mai-san, Malik-kun, and now the Schroeders? It seems like getting to this point involved something of a Who's Who of familiar faces."
"Far off places, too," Mokuba added with a wink.
"It is a 'Mad World,' isn't it?" Anzu smiled at his musical reference. "To go from life-or-death card games to producing musicals and running multi-billion-yen gaming companies."
"It's a relief, honestly," Mokuba said. "I've...I've had a lot of fun the past week, actually. And Seto didn't even come back right away from his vacation. Said there was no point in coming in for just two days of the work week, so he'll work remotely and then be back by Monday."
"Once he got a taste of vacation, he just couldn't give it up," Anzu laughed. "You'll have to tell me where he went when you find out. See if he comes back with a tan or anything."
Mokuba doubled over in laughter, and when he finally rose up to sitting position again, there were tears in his eyes. "I can't– I just can't picture it at all. Even though I know—" He chuckled some more, and before long, Anzu joined him.
After a few minutes filling the airy apartment with laughter, they both exhaled and leaned back in their chairs.
"So how was it? Getting in touch with the original cast and all?"
"It was...not that bad, honestly. I did speak to Dan and Eric, and like I thought, they are still together. They were both so ridiculously apologetic, I'm pretty sure we all cried at one point or another on the call."
Anzu bit her lip and continued. "They— They're really in love, actually. Eric was just so deep in the closet, he never thought he'd meet 'The One' while he was pursuing his dream of being on Broadway."
"Did you—" Mokuba hesitated. "Did you think Eric was 'The One'?" Mokuba wrinkled his lips after asking the question.
"I'm a sappy romantic," Anzu admitted. "So I think a part of me did, back then. But all these years later...no. It never would have happened, even if he hadn't cheated on me. Eric was just fooling himself with me. He grew up in this really religious household, and he was terrified that if he came out, he'd never get to see little sister again."
"Oh, I didn't realize…" Mokuba trailed off. He still remembered Anzu's red, tear-streaked face the day she'd discovered Eric and Dan together. He wanted to be furious at Eric, even now, but he just...couldn't.
How can I be angry at a guy that had to pretend to be someone he's not just so he could still see his little sister?
"Honestly, I'm just happy they're happy," Anzu said. "And as for me, I'm going to figure out just who I want to be from here on out. Come December, it'll finally be time to start writing my own story, one outside of theatre."
As she spoke, Mokuba could see the familiar determined expression spread across Anzu's face, her blue eyes lit by a new fire within.
It's… been a long time since she's looked like that, Mokuba knew. They'd only seen each other occasionally over the past two years, but she'd looked increasingly tired and worn out… until today.
"I–I'm glad it worked out, Anzu," Mokuba replied. "And…" he licked his lips, considering an idea. "If you want a job after you're done with Millennium, Kaiba Corporation would be lucky to have you."
To Mokuba's surprise, Anzu didn't burst out laughing, but she furrowed her brows in confusion. "What would Kaiba Corporation want with a dancer and choreographer?"
"Uh, you mean a multi-award winning producer, writer, dancer, choreographer, historian, and entertainment aficionado?" Mokuba corrected her. "I'm pretty sure we could do a lot with your help. Millennium was the first show where we really tried to use Solid Vision for a lengthy performance, and we did it over and over again. And we used it in ways that we never had before with Duel Monsters . Imagine if we had a whole department dedicated to coming up with ideas like that. You could run it."
This time, Anzu did laugh. "And go to board meetings with your brother? I don't think so."
Mokuba scowled at her, "He's not that bad!"
Anzu kept giggling, so Mokuba added, "I'm serious. Even if you don't want to be in charge, you could be a Special Consultant, or a Developmental Manager or something. Hell, we could come up with a job title, just for you!"
Her amusement faded and Anzu stared at Mokuba, her head tilted to one side. "You are serious aren't you? Well… I'll think about it. We still have a few months before I can even consider pivoting to a whole new career, anyway."
"Great!" Mokuba slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. He had to collect the libretto and get on his way to see Pegasus; he only had two days left before Seto came back.
"Everyone signed something," Anzu said, gesturing at the book. "Photos or notecards. Some people even submitted stories. It took me a few days to get everything all organized and bound up, but I got it done. I hope… I hope it does the job and you get the paintings from Pegasus."
"Oh I will," Mokuba assured her. "After everything, I won't leave that island without them."
"What other things did you end up doing in order to get this, anyway? Since you said you talked to Mai-san and Malik-kun, I mean."
"It's kind of a long story," Mokuba admitted, "but the short version is that I got the dress from Mai who wanted me to trade-in her car, which I did with Honda, who made me get him fancy reservations at some restaurant so he could propose to Shizuka, which Otogi helped me get, but only if I got him a revised ad contract, so I had to talk to Malik to talk to Isis, and then he wanted that ski vacation I told you about, and since I had to call Jounouchi for the exhibition anyway and he was in Germany with the Schroeders, he hooked me up with the vacation so long as we let him debut the new Duel Disk at the big event."
Mokuba took in a deep breath after he finished. Anzu was staring at him in open-mouthed shock.
"...That was the short version?" she mumbled. "Wait, you said Honda is proposing to Shizuka-chan!?"
"Yup, this Christmas Eve," Mokuba affirmed. "I actually got them some pretty good seats to Millennium that evening, since that was part of the deal I made with him."
Anzu smiled. "I'll be sure to greet them, then. I hope Shizuka-chan accepts. I want to see what her ring will look like."
"Knowing Honda, I kind of doubt he's even thought about it yet. Did you know he didn't even know tickets sold out months in advance? He's lucky I added in those tickets so he wouldn't give me grief about needing Mai's car in two days."
"Really?" Anzu laughed. "Well, I know you have to get going, but I expect you to join me for dinner on one of my off nights so you can give me all the details."
"Deal," Mokuba said with a grin, and he thrust out a hand. Anzu looked down at it and pulled Mokuba into a tight hug.
"Deal," she whispered over her shoulder. "Thank you, Mokuba. I doubt I would be here now if it weren't for you."
"I don't! You'd have gotten here, one way or the other. That's just the kind of person you are. You never give up," Mokuba responded, refusing to let the tears pooling at his lash line escape.
Even if we're always just friends, I— For me, that's enough, Mokuba realized. Malik-san's right. We've all got to move on from the past.
"Thank you," Anzu repeated in a soft murmur, her arms still tight around Mokuba's torso. "For everything. Always."
"Hey," Mokuba gently pushed her out from him, and fixed her with a stare. "That's my line."
And they both laughed again, until Mokuba finally made his way out Anzu's apartment door, libretto in hand at last.