Disclaimer: No, we don't own Yugioh. This is not one of our best works nor
is it very long. We just wanted to try and get a point across.
This is dedicated to mothers everywhere. Thank you.
-
Mother's Day
This was a special Sunday. A Sunday where even Joey Wheeler would scramble to find just the right thing to give to his mother.
A Sunday where Ryou Bakura would write a very special, very long letter to a woman who had died years ago.
A Sunday in which Yugi Moto and his grandfather would make breakfast, while letting Mrs. Moto sleep in.
Yami Yugi didn't understand quite the concept of a Mother's Day. Well- He understood, saw the idea behind it, but being unable to remember any mother of any sort made it harder to connect.
Eventually, feeling oddly depressed by the camadarie filling the home above the game shop, he got Yugi to let him go for a walk.
It was a beautiful day in Domino. Not many people were actually out and about yet, it being Sunday, Mother's Day and early in the day combined. Yami wandered through the city streets in his sleek casual way, finally, somehow, winding up nearby a cemetary.
There was a limosine parked nearby.
"Odd," Yami muttered to himself, aimlessly wandering past it and into the cemetary.
It was a lot different from the forbidding, haunted presence of a game graveyard. It was well-trimmed, not cheery but certainly bright, quiet and at peace. Yami felt quite at ease wandering along the meek paved path, glancing curiously at the different graves as he passed.
What he saw over the next small hill, however, made his entire body tense and he stopped in his tracks.
Seto Kaiba.
The other deulist didn't see him, kneeling before a lovely polished marker as he was, back turned to the once Pharaoh. The way he was positioned hid the grave from sight. He seemed to be whispering softly, while at the same time Yami realized he was writing on something as he did so.
Yami watched the fifteen year old for what seemed like the longest time. He was actually rather startled when Kaiba finally stood and turned.
Yami pulled back a gasp as he saw the drying tears on the other's cheeks. Kaiba didn't even notice Yami was there, looking through him as he padded silently back up the path, long white trenchcoat trailing behind him. Yami stared after him, even after the limo pulled away and was long gone.
Then he looked back to the grave. At its base lay two objects that could do nothing less than sharpen his curiosity, and he approached.
The name meant nothing to him, the date only told him that the woman who lay beneath his feet had died ten years before. What interested him was the white rose and card which was propped against the headstone.
Despite that his own culture had put even more stress on respect for the dead than modern day society, Yami found himself kneeling to examine the card.
It wasn't much, on the outside. The words "To Mother" were embellished across the top, a rose much like the real one that accompanied the card decorated it.
Yami opened it to see an almost shaky, but still brisk and clear handwriting filling the entire blank interior. So this was what Kaiba had been writing on.
"Dear Mother," it began,
"Once again I find myself here, as I have every year since I have been able, to leave a rose and a note, although I barely knew you.
"I want to thank you, for taking care of me and of Father before Mokuba's birth. I want to thank you for Mokuba's birth, even though I have often wondered why you had to die for him.
"I hope whatever molding you managed to enact upon me has made me into a person you can be proud of. Even if not all of the time. I wish I could know for certain that you would love me as I am now, despite all my shortcomings.
"All I have as a reassurance is that you were willing to die to bring a son into the world, rather than give him up and live. Even though that son is not me, I hope that means you loved me as well, because Mokuba is the cement that holds my world together, even as I lack you as a rock.
"I hope that there is a heaven, as you always used to tell me about, and I hope that you and my father are together, happy. Are you still watching over me? Perhaps you are, for me to have made it this far. In any event...
"Thank you.
"Your son, Seto."
Yami gazed at the letter a long time, realizing that it must have been difficult for Kaiba to try and express himself in words like that.
Finally he set the card reverently, gently on the grave.
He turned to go.
He understood.
This is dedicated to mothers everywhere. Thank you.
-
Mother's Day
This was a special Sunday. A Sunday where even Joey Wheeler would scramble to find just the right thing to give to his mother.
A Sunday where Ryou Bakura would write a very special, very long letter to a woman who had died years ago.
A Sunday in which Yugi Moto and his grandfather would make breakfast, while letting Mrs. Moto sleep in.
Yami Yugi didn't understand quite the concept of a Mother's Day. Well- He understood, saw the idea behind it, but being unable to remember any mother of any sort made it harder to connect.
Eventually, feeling oddly depressed by the camadarie filling the home above the game shop, he got Yugi to let him go for a walk.
It was a beautiful day in Domino. Not many people were actually out and about yet, it being Sunday, Mother's Day and early in the day combined. Yami wandered through the city streets in his sleek casual way, finally, somehow, winding up nearby a cemetary.
There was a limosine parked nearby.
"Odd," Yami muttered to himself, aimlessly wandering past it and into the cemetary.
It was a lot different from the forbidding, haunted presence of a game graveyard. It was well-trimmed, not cheery but certainly bright, quiet and at peace. Yami felt quite at ease wandering along the meek paved path, glancing curiously at the different graves as he passed.
What he saw over the next small hill, however, made his entire body tense and he stopped in his tracks.
Seto Kaiba.
The other deulist didn't see him, kneeling before a lovely polished marker as he was, back turned to the once Pharaoh. The way he was positioned hid the grave from sight. He seemed to be whispering softly, while at the same time Yami realized he was writing on something as he did so.
Yami watched the fifteen year old for what seemed like the longest time. He was actually rather startled when Kaiba finally stood and turned.
Yami pulled back a gasp as he saw the drying tears on the other's cheeks. Kaiba didn't even notice Yami was there, looking through him as he padded silently back up the path, long white trenchcoat trailing behind him. Yami stared after him, even after the limo pulled away and was long gone.
Then he looked back to the grave. At its base lay two objects that could do nothing less than sharpen his curiosity, and he approached.
The name meant nothing to him, the date only told him that the woman who lay beneath his feet had died ten years before. What interested him was the white rose and card which was propped against the headstone.
Despite that his own culture had put even more stress on respect for the dead than modern day society, Yami found himself kneeling to examine the card.
It wasn't much, on the outside. The words "To Mother" were embellished across the top, a rose much like the real one that accompanied the card decorated it.
Yami opened it to see an almost shaky, but still brisk and clear handwriting filling the entire blank interior. So this was what Kaiba had been writing on.
"Dear Mother," it began,
"Once again I find myself here, as I have every year since I have been able, to leave a rose and a note, although I barely knew you.
"I want to thank you, for taking care of me and of Father before Mokuba's birth. I want to thank you for Mokuba's birth, even though I have often wondered why you had to die for him.
"I hope whatever molding you managed to enact upon me has made me into a person you can be proud of. Even if not all of the time. I wish I could know for certain that you would love me as I am now, despite all my shortcomings.
"All I have as a reassurance is that you were willing to die to bring a son into the world, rather than give him up and live. Even though that son is not me, I hope that means you loved me as well, because Mokuba is the cement that holds my world together, even as I lack you as a rock.
"I hope that there is a heaven, as you always used to tell me about, and I hope that you and my father are together, happy. Are you still watching over me? Perhaps you are, for me to have made it this far. In any event...
"Thank you.
"Your son, Seto."
Yami gazed at the letter a long time, realizing that it must have been difficult for Kaiba to try and express himself in words like that.
Finally he set the card reverently, gently on the grave.
He turned to go.
He understood.