Leveled up to "M" due to graphic violence. Yayyyyy blood and guts.

The long-awaited reunion of brothers. Also yayyyyy.

And the slow, slow burn continues… yayyyyyy…

Chapter Nine: Rats (Part 2)

The door opened. Black hair whipped back, Mokuba sprinted out. Seto felt his own legs quicken. Every step and lash of the night breeze brought them closer.

"Seto!" Mokuba cried. The were only a few yards away from each other now. Mokuba launched himself. The weight and force of his lean body almost took Seto off his feet. Almost.

Arms clutched tight around his back, and Mokuba's face pressed hard into his shoulder. Seto banded his arms around Mokuba. He immediately got tangled in wild black hair. Mokuba's shoulders shook, his heart pounded. He sniffled, and Seto realized the teen was holding back a sob.

He petted the long raven locks. His own eyes stung, and he blinked hastily.

Mokuba chuckled wetly. "You're really cold, Seto. Let's get you inside." Despite his words, he stayed glued to his big brother.

Seto's unbeating heart clenched painfully.

God, he'd even missed how Mokuba smelled. Fucking weird.

Finally, the pair retracted from one another. They both chuckled when the button on Seto's cuff got tangled in Mokuba's hair. They slowly walked up the driveway.

"What… what happened? Where have you been?" Mokuba asked. His voice wavered. Kaiba remembered a scared little boy. A boy that lived in that trembling voice.

"Let's get inside first, Moki," Seto replied quietly.

Seto's eyes eagerly drank in the manor. He never thought he'd miss this place so much. He stilled; Yami's quiet presence shifted to the shadow of a small table with a plant on it.

It was surreal. Two worlds collided. His human life, ignorant of the Underworld, and his experience in Yami's home as a blood-sucking creature of the night.

He blinked and took off his jacket. Mokuba eagerly grabbed it from his hands and stowed it away in the closet.

"Do you want something to drink?" Mokuba asked.

Seto grimaced. "Stop treating me like a guest in my own home."

Mokuba smiled shakily. "Sorry… it's just been like…" he voice dipped and gurgled with restrained tears, "... a month since last I saw you."

Seto's eyes widened. Holy shit. It really had been.

Lavender eyes stared at him beseechingly. "What happened, Seto?"

He gulped. He couldn't handle the puppy dog eyes, much less when they were watery with tears. "I…"

Mokuba's lips trembled. "L-Let's go sit down."

Seto nodded. He drifted behind. Yami crawled along inside Seto's shadow as they walked into a small lounge area. Seto slowly sat on the sofa across from his little brother.

Yami flitted beneath the couch. Seto could all but feel him brush against his legs.

"How did you know I would come tonight?" Seto asked dazedly.

Mokuba's hands twisted together on his lap. "This is going to sound crazy." He chuckled and palmed his face. "You're probably not going to believe me."

Seto's lip curled. "Try me."

"... A little bird told me," Mokuba said, shoulders shaking with laughter. "L-Literally."

Seto laughed, too. "What?"

Mokuba wiped at his eyes. "Yeah. It was like a stork or something."

"A night heron," Seto said quietly. Yami.

Mokuba blinked at him. "Have you seen it, too?"

Seto nodded once, but didn't elaborate.

"It brought me a note. Typed. By a typewriter." Mokuba rubbed his eyebrow. "Twice. It brought me notes twice."

Seto arched an eyebrow. "Twice?"

Mokuba nodded. "One when you first disappeared and one last night."

Yami…

Seto leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch. He nervously rubbed his fingers against his thumb. "What did the notes say?"

Mokuba stood up. "I can get them for you." Suddenly, he looked reluctant. "But… I don't want to leave and you not be here. I feel like this is just a dream."

Seto's face softened. "I'll still be right here, Mokuba. I wouldn't just leave you like that." He flinched internally. Except he had.

Mokuba nodded curtly and chewed his lip. With long strides so reminiscent of his older brother, he walked from the room.

When Seto was sure Mokuba was no longer in earshot, he whispered, "So you've been in contact with him this whole time?"

Yami slithered up Seto's leg and along his back. His cold, shadowy presence curled at Seto's shoulder. Seto shivered. It felt like icy lips were brushing his ear. "I knew you would not want him to worry himself senseless. I tried my best to alleviate his fears." Yami's voice was so incredibly faint, a gentle night breeze through leafless trees. But Seto still heard him clear as day.

"Thank you…" he murmured. Mokuba's steps echoed through the house. He was getting closer again.

"Of course, Seto," Yami replied gently.

Seto shuddered, fingers curled tight into the material of his pants. The tender way Yami's voice traced over the syllables echoed back to a warbling moan and gasp. Suddenly, Yami's presence zipped away to the shadows under the couch. Seto pressed his knuckles to his lips hard enough to feel his teeth dig into the soft flesh inside his mouth.

Mokuba came back into the room holding two folded papers. His shoulders sagged with relief when he saw Seto still sitting on the sofa. "Here. The worn one is the first one."

Seto took both into his hands. Indeed, one was worn from being folded and unfolded and rubbed between fingers time and again. Seto gingerly unfolded it with deft fingers.

Dear Mokuba Kaiba,

Your brother is safe. Trust not Pegasus, trust not Paradius. Do not go out at night.

Seto will see you as soon as he is well. He will be secure in my care.

Wishing you peace in the twilight,

A friend

"Paradius?" he echoed. "Like the real estate empire?" He had some questions for Yami now.

"I'm guessing so. Why does it tell me not to go out at night?" Mokuba asked, touched his finger to the paper.

Seto glanced up at him. Yami's words echoed through his head; "Be careful. The night has fangs, Tea."

"It's… not safe," Seto said. "The people who tried to get me might try to get you. They… prefer to work at night." He grimaced. Mokuba won't let him leave it at that.

"Who tried to take you, Seto?!" Mokuba questioned fervently.

Seto rubbed his eyebrow. Clammy sweat clung to his back. How much should he tell Mokuba?

A reassuring touch upon his knee. He looked up. Mokuba was too far away for it to be him.

He sighed. "Pegasus." He didn't clarify to Mokuba that "take" meant "tried to drain me the last of my blood and possibly turn me into his thrall and/or spawn."

"Holy shit!"

Seto glared at him. "Language, Mokuba."

Mokuba gaped at him. "It's a valid response, Seto! How did you escape?!" He jabbed a finger onto the note. "What did it mean, 'when you're well'? The other says something similar!"

Seto's head spun. So many questions. "A… friend helped me. The one who wrote the letters."

"And who is that?" Mokuba asked, vehement.

"I don't know if I can tell you that." I don't know what you can handle. What you can believe.

Frustrated tears wetted those lavender eyes. "I think I deserve to know what's happening, Seto. Whether you like it or not, I'm involved in this, too!"

Seto suddenly stood up. "Mokuba. Give me your hand."

Mokuba's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Give me your damn hand, Mokuba!" Seto snapped. He snatched his little brother by the wrist. He pressed Mokuba's palm to his chest.

Mokuba struggled hard, yanked back, pried at Seto's long pale fingers. "What the hell, Seto! Let go of me!" His hand didn't budge from Seto's grip.

"What do you feel, Mokuba?" Seto asked solemnly.

Mokuba stopped moving, though his whole body was taut as a wire. "You're really cold."

Seto nodded. "What else?"

Mokuba's lavender eyes blinked. "I don't… I don't know. Guess I don't really feel anything else."

Seto's head tilted forward, his eyebrows raising. "Nothing else? Not even, say, a heartbeat?"

Mokuba's mouth dropped open. He focused on the cold body under his palm. Seto's chest rose and fell with his steady breaths, and Mokuba could feel the slight rasp of them. But that was it. Seto lifted Mokuba's hand off his chest, moved it to his own pale wrist. He pushed two of Mokuba's tanned fingers into what should have been a pulse point. He pressed hard, hard enough to bruise.

No pulse.

Mokuba's eyes were as wide as saucers. "You… You…"

Seto shook his head slowly, blue eyes locked onto his teenage brother. "I don't have a heartbeat, Mokuba."

Mokuba reeled back, and Seto let him slip away. "What… what is happening, Seto?"

"I'm…" he paused to gulp, Adam's apple bobbing painfully hard. "I'm a… a vampire, Moki."

"Th-this isn't the time to be joking around, Seto," he whispered. His voice cut in and out with his obvious distress.

"I wouldn't joke around about this." Seto stepped forward.

Mokuba stumbled back, tripped on the edge of a rug.

Seto's undead heart seized with agony. "Mokuba, I'm not going to hurt you."

Mokuba hastily stood, hands splayed out as if Seto were some wild animal that needed calming. "How am I supposed to believe that?! You're obviously having a delusional fit!"

Seto shook his head. "No, Mokuba. Pegasus is one, too. He almost killed me. Yami saved my life."

"Pegasus? Jesus, Seto, listen to what you're saying!"

Frustration crashed upon Seto's nerves, made his hands shake and his body tremble. "You felt it for yourself, Mokuba."

Tears glistened on his little brother's face. "I don't know… I don't understand…"

Seto took the chance to move close and pull Mokuba into his embrace. "I'd never hurt you. Please, believe me."

Mokuba shivered. Hugging Seto felt like hugging a block of ice. Shock lapped at his senses. His fingers curled hard into the back of Seto's shirt. He went slack, sobbing.

Tears stung at Seto's own eyes. He looked up to the ceiling, tried to blink them away, but one curled and trickled along his cheek.

Mokuba saw through blurry eyes as a drop of dark red landed on Seto's shirt, right next to Mokuba's nose. "S-Seto…?"

"What is it?" Seto asked, voice garbled with restraint emotion.

"Y-Your sh-sh-shirt…"

Seto glanced down. Blood. Senses becoming suddenly aware, he smelt it. He hastily drew Mokuba back by his shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Mokuba gasped, looked upon Seto's face with horror.

Seto touched his wet face. Blackish red smeared his fingertips. "Holy shit, I cry blood." He looked back at Mokuba, who seemed to be completely frozen with shock. "I fucking told you."

Mokuba swayed to the side, his eyes rolling back. Seto caught him. He tapped Mokuba's face with his clean hand. "Moki, Moki, c'mon."

The lavender eyes did not open. He was unconscious.

Seto cursed, swept his brother up in his arms. Mokuba did not feel nearly as heavy as normal.

Supernatural strength was kind of a nice perk, Seto supposed sourly.

He laid Mokuba out on the sofa.

A cold hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced back.

Yami. In the flesh.

Seto took a deep breath. Rather uncharacteristically, he felt like bursting into tears at the sight of those understanding violet eyes. He turned to fully face him.

Yami reached up, gentle fingers swiping silent crimson tears from Seto's face. "It's okay, Seto."

Seto felt himself sink into those frigid hands. "It doesn't feel like it."

Thumbs caressed his cheekbones. "It would have been much worse if it weren't." Yami's head tilted. Those purple eyes were so warm and tender they seemed molten. "He didn't try to kill you. And he didn't run away."

Seto remained silent a moment, allowed himself this moment of weakness. He breathed slowly to calm himself.

Yami tugged him to sit in a chair. He did so slowly.

"You… you didn't tell me I would cry blood," Seto murmured at the sight of the dark red on Yami's hands.

Yami gave him a small smile, adjusted Seto's bangs. "I didn't know if you would inherit that from me."

"So you do it, too?"

Yami's voice was quiet. "Yes."

Seto was about to sniffle, and hid it with a snort. "It's fucking gross."

Yami laughed quietly. "Yes, it is a bit messy, isn't it?"

"A bit messy? Yeah, I think this shirt is ruined." He poked a finger at the small red droplet on his chest. He pulled a tissue from a side table to wipe off his hand and face as best as he could.

Yami snorted this time. "Don't be silly. I've managed to get much more out of my clothes." He also wiped off his hands.

Seto's brows furrowed. "Do you make a habit out of drenching yourself in blood?"

Yami just stared at him.

Seto shivered. "Shit, you do, don't you?"

Mokuba shifted on the couch. He was coming back to consciousness. Thank god. Seto really needed a distraction from their topic of conversation. Yami began to fade. Seto latched onto his wrist.

"No. I think he should meet you," Seto said, firm.

Purple eyes blinked down at him. A firm nod.

Seto pulled his hand away. Their fingers brushed together. Seto rubbed his thumb against his fingers, but the feeling remained.

Mokuba groaned and slowly sat up. "Ugh…" He rubbed his eyes and blinked hazily at the room. His gaze landed on Seto in the chair that he occupied earlier.

And the strange man next to him.

He hastily stood. "Who're you? How did you get here?!"

"He's been here the whole time, Mokuba," Seto said gently.

Yami strode forward slowly, a hand extended.

Mokuba stumbled back, fell onto the couch.

Yami smiled, a small, caring tilt of the lips. "Mokuba, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm Yami. The man who saved Seto and the writer of the letters you received."

And the avian messenger, Seto added wryly.

Mokuba's lip twitched. "Oh. How did you…?"

Realizing that a handshake was not in order, Yami retracted his hand. "All explanations in due time." He withdrew to another chair in the room. He lounged on it as regally as any.

Mokuba stared at him. "Are… are you one, too?"

A tilt of the chin. "Yes. Though much… older than either your brother or Pegasus."

Mokuba slouched back against the cushions. "So now my brother drinks blood…" He looked back to Seto. "Have you k-killed anyone?"

Seto's eyes widened. "No!"

Yami chuckled. "He feeds from me. It will be so until I think him fit for the hunt. Even then, I will not allow him to kill anyone."

Mokuba leaned forward, lavender eyes wide with fascination. "Can I watch? Him feed?"

"No," Seto growled. Cold flooded his face, and he took a deep breath to get his composure back. Of course, Mokuba had this weird fascination for gore and all things mangled (it apparently wasn't too strange a behavior for teenage boys, but Seto himself never went through such a phase, so it certainly took him by surprise). Mokuba just… didn't know what he was asking.

"Can I at least see your fangs?" Mokuba asked, addressing Yami.

Yami's jaw dropped, lips curled back. His canines gleamed, pearlescent, as they extended. They looked… freakishly long. Longer than his own felt.

And Yami… had bitten him with those?

Seto shuddered.

"Woah, that's… cool…" Mokuba breathed, equal parts intrigued and disturbed.

Fangs retracted, Yami smirked a little. He hadn't missed a single reaction.

"How… how old are you?" Mokuba asked.

Seto froze. Yami hadn't bothered to divulge such information… but Seto hadn't bothered to ask.

Seto realized he hardly knew anything about his shadowy savior.

Yami rested his jaw on his knuckles. "Hmmm. Factoring in calendar changes, I'd say… perhaps four-thousand-five-hundred years. Give or take a couple of decades."

Seto almost did a spit-take, despite not having anything which he was currently drinking.

"Da-yum! That's old!" Mokuba crowed.

Seto stared, wide-eyed, at the other man. Okay, he'd knew Yami was from ancient Egypt, but not ancient Egypt! Seto had guessed two thousand, maybe a couple extra centuries, TOPS.

No. Yami was twice that age.

Yami blinked at the pair. It no longer remained of much import to him, exactly how old he was.

Seto studied Yami with fresh eyes.

Just what had that violet gaze seen? Distant, ancient lands, men and women whose bones were now but dust of the earth.

He shook his head slowly and turned his attention back to Mokuba.

Seto slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. Mokuba's lavender eyes glistened. "I don't want you to go."

Seto ruffled that long black hair. "I know, Mokuba. But I have to."

"When will you come back for good? It's… empty here without you."

Seto glanced back at Yami. He was staring out the window at the moon-washed driveway. He seemed to be lost in thought.

Seto turned back to Mokuba. "I don't know. When I've got everything under control I guess." He stepped forward and hugged his little brother. Mokuba clung eagerly to him. Seto had so much to say, but not the words to say them. He drew away. "We'll be back soon."

Mokuba nodded. "Love you, Seto."

"Love you too, Moki." They drew apart.

"I guess I'll see you."

"You will. I'd let the world burn before I'd let it take me away from you," Seto said as he turned away. He opened the door and strode out. "Let's go, Yami. Mokuba needs to get some sleep."

He heard Mokuba whisper. "Please take care of him, Yami."

"I will," came the soft but firm reply. "May you find peace in the twilight, Mokuba."

He didn't hear Yami's steps, but he could feel Yami's presence as he caught up to him.

"That was a rather abrupt exit, Seto," Yami remarked calmly.

Seto blinked. A lump was caught stiffly in his throat. He grunted.

Yami glanced at his fledgling. "When you are through with the basics, you will be returning to your… normal life, here, with Mokuba." Yami's deep voice percolated warmly through the night. "He needs you."

"What do you define as the 'basics'?" Seto questioned roughly.

"Feeding responsibly on your own, a modicum of self-defense maneuvers," Yami said, "the works." The gate opened for them, and they turned down the road.

"I can defend myself well enough, thank you," he growled.

"I am sure," Yami replied wryly. "You fought Pegasus off so well. My help really was not needed."

Seto growled again, this time frustrated and deep in his chest. "I… didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for any of this." He sounded less angry and accusatory and more… defeated.

"I know," Yami said quietly. He stilled. All around them the night was… silent.

Seto kept walking, but soon stopped to look at the other man.

Yami was perfectly still, not even breathing. He lifted a slender finger to his lips. He could feel them, out in the woods. Two dozen and two.

Seto furrowed his brows and mouthed, "What the hell are you doing?"

Yami's lunged. "Get down!" Seto collided harshly with the ground, Yami's fist curled into his collar. Less than a nanosecond later, a dark shape hurtled overhead.

Shadows raged around Yami, a clawed hand extended, as he caught the figure and tossed it aside. The scent of blood, cold and acrid, stained the night air with a wet burst. Even in the flurry, Seto, with his keen night vision, saw the figure tumble across the road, entrails a gory train behind.

Then, Seto sensed them.

Vampires.

Just how he could feel Yami's presence, he could sense theirs. Though, even collectively, they did not hold a candle to Yami's aura.

They were surrounded.

Yami remained crouched protectively over him. His red eyes glowed like haunting beacons in the night. Black wings arched and fanned menacingly. Yami growled, bestial, inhuman, and the very night itself roiled at the sound.

"Oooooh, scar~ry," a short man, even shorter than Yami himself, crowed.

"Weevil," Yami replied. The shadows surrounding them all rippled.

"It's time you step down from your high horse. We know the truth!" The man's voice was snide. He stood straight, teal hair washed silver in the moonlight. "You're 'shadow tricks' are all for show!"

The sable head turned slowly. His hair, much like the shadowed mane of a beast, made an intimidating silhouette in the silver night. Seto stared up at him. A gleaming symbol of an eye pulsed from the center of Yami's forehead as he regarded those surrounding them.

"You are making a grave mistake, Weevil Underwood."

"You may have been able to kill one of us, but you can't take all of us at once! Attack him!"

They swarmed upon Yami like a hive of bees.

But he was gone. Seto momentarily panicked. Did Yami just leave him behind?

Cries of pain and the sick splitting of flesh echoed into the darkness. A flurry of black claws, red eyes leaving streams of light behind Seto's eyelids. Viscera and blood splashed dark and cold upon grass and asphalt.

Seto rose shakily to his feet. He turned just in time to see a man charge at him. Like a streak of wicked lightning, Yami was there. Dastardly talons wrenched into the man's shoulders. With a blood-curdling roar, Yami tore him asunder. Blood sprayed everywhere. The fragments were cast aside as if they were garbage.

As quickly as Yami disposed of one assailant, he moved onto the next. The brave fought back valiantly. One lunged upon the monster, only to have claws sink into his chest and rip his lungs straight from his ribs. The cowardly stood frozen or disappeared into the night.

Before long, only one remained.

Weevil Underwood.

Yami hoisted him up by a clawed hand on his throat. The shadows melted away. Yami was slicked, head to toe, in blood. Weevil wheezed and gurgled, clawed weakly at the hand at his throat, but his fingers only slipped messily on the gore staining Yami's flesh.

Yami's lip curled up in a snarl. Long fangs extended, glinted in the night as he hissed. "You've always been a fool, Weevil. I knew someday I would end up killing you."

Weevil squirmed. His nails couldn't break through the thick coating of liquid. "P-Please…"

Yami shook him fiercely. Weevil choked and gasped. Yami's hand tightened. His claws sank into the flesh of Weevil's neck. Cold blood trickled out. Yami yanked him down. Fangs flashed before they were buried in flesh. Weevil screamed, clawed at the wild hair matted with blood. Seto watched, frozen, as Weevil's scrambling waned in strength, until his arms hung limply at his sides. Yami withdrew, tongue dragging over bloodied fangs, eyes glowing red upon his victim. He emotionlessly tossed Weevil to the side. The small man sprawled brokenly in the grass. Crimson eyes turned to Seto.

Seto shivered. Yami stepped closer. Seto stepped back, until he tripped on a severed leg and tumbled to the cold, blood-stained grass. The smell of copper hung on the air so heavily it nearly made Seto nauseous.

"Don't fear me now, Seto," Yami said quietly.

"Y-You… they…" Seto stuttered, voice thick and wobbling.

"Would you rather me stand there and let them kill you? You certainly weren't their target, but when heathens lust for blood, they will not stop until they have it," Yami murmured. "Come. I should wash this away before we return to the vehicle."

Seto watched Yami turn to the forest and stalk between moon-dappled branches. His feet automatically moved to get up and follow, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder.

"What about them? What if someone finds them?" Seto asked. Yami wasn't going to just leave all of those… dismembered bodies behind, was he?

Yami's deep voice resonated between the trees. "They will burn away to ash when the sun rises."

Seto gulped and quietly followed a few yards behind the other man.

What had he just witnessed? Never in his life had he seen such a ruthless display of bloodshed. Seto understood that Yami was powerful, but did not have a basis for comparison to put that power into perspective. He did now. Those vampires never stood a chance against Yami.

He'd never felt so disturbed, yet damnably safe before.

The gentle babbling of water tickled his ears. Of course, this was probably the river, the one that also passed through the northern half of the Kaiba estate.

They broke through the treeline. The water, black and glistening like obsidian in the night, carved lazily through the forest.

Without preamble, Yami began to strip.

Seto's jaws clenched hard enough for his teeth to hurt, and he hastily turned to face the trees. Clothes plopped wetly on the grass. The smell of blood was thick on the air. Water gurgled and swished as Yami stepped into the river. Meanwhile, Seto checked his duffle bag. It, too, had splotches and sprays if blood on it. Good thing it was sealed and waterproof; his clothes should be untouched.

He looked down at himself. Tiny pinpoints of black and the occasional droplet and splotch stained his shirt and pants. It wasn't anything too bad. Nothing like the bloodbath Yami had subjected himself to.

A splash echoed behind him, and he reflexively looked over his shoulder.

Yami had apparently just dunked himself into the water, but now he stood upright in the middle of the river, the water up to his waist. His back was to Seto, and the diluted blood flowed down his back in murky rivulets. His arms, pale skin now gleaming from beneath the thinning layer of black, were bent up as his hands scrubbed and wrung at his wild hair.

He dunked - though that word was far too awkward to describe the elegance and grace of the motion - himself again, and when he came back up, the pale flesh of his back was easily visible. Though muscular and scarred, Yami looked so soft, smooth as he stood there, wet in the moonlight.

Seto rubbed his thumbs against his fingers.

He cleared his throat, which suddenly seemed thick. "What are you going to do about your clothes?"

Yami turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder. His blond bangs clung wetly to his smooth cheek. "I could rinse them as well as I can, and simply wear them wet to the vehicle. I do have a change of clothes in the trunk. However, I was hoping that you would be willing to lend me a set of yours." His dark eyebrows lifted and tilted in a doleful expression. "Please?"

Something in Seto's chest clenched breathlessly. So Yami could be cute when he wasn't "Yugi." Seto's face flushed at his own thoughts. Calling a man he just saw kill two dozen men… cute?! "I mean, they'll probably be fucking huge on you."

Yami smiled, grateful, amused by Seto's roundabout way of acquiescing "It will be better than nothing. Thank you."

"No problem," he mumbled back. He settled onto the grass and opened the bag.

Most of his clothes would probably slide right off Yami's small, slender body. His pants would dangle in excess over Yami's feet and probably trip him. (Though Seto could not fathom Yami ever doing something as clumsy as tripping.)

He settled on a blank button-up (one that was a bit on the tight side for himself) and a similar pair of pants. And underwear…?

Ugh, whatever. He would follow Yami's lead when it came to that.

The soft swish of water echoed to his ears. Yami was wading out of the river. He glanced up briefly. Clean, white skin. Rivulets of water caressing over sleek muscle.

He clenched his jaw and looked away as quickly as he had glanced.

He heard the slide of Yami's palms over his skin to swipe the water off.

"The water was cool," Yami murmured.

Seto grunted in response. He tried to focus on the babble of the water, even as he heard the whisper of cloth over skin. Cold fingers touched his chin. He turned his head. Yami was fully dressed, though the material clung damply to his form. Yami smelled like water and silt. "Thank you."

Seto nodded curtly.

Yami wiped off his leather shoes as best he could, and, with a languid pass of his hand, set his bloody clothes alight.

Silent, the pair walked into the woods, into the night.

The sun reached its awakening rays over the horizon. Tongues of red and gold lapped at the dark blues and purples of night. Light poured over the land, slow, like spilled honey.

The gentle fingertips of the golden glow caressed over the carnage on the side of the road. At its touch, flesh and blood smoldered. Shapes collapsed inward and gasped out clouds of dust. The tiny flames died away, and ash slithered in the faint breeze over asphalt.

There was nothing left.

END PART

This took forever to write. Sorry. It is about a thousand words longer than the longest chapter so far, and about two thousand more than the average chapter length for this story.

Also, I have a question for you, my beloved readers. I have assembling a playlist/soundtrack for this story. If I were to post it to my profile page, maybe even a link to a YouTube playlist, how many of you would be willing to listen to it? If you have an answer, you can list it in a review. If you are not comfortable posting a review, don't be afraid to PM me your answer. :) I promise I won't bite.

Anyway, thanks for being patient and reading this chapter!