Jessica: *pokes at blob pointlessly with toe* Die, evil blob…

*She has given up on chasing Kaiba.  Jessica is now seated on the blob, which has grown to twice its original size.*

Malik: *whistles* You must be totally inspiration-free. 

Jessica: *nods glumly*  You bet.  I can't make this chapter angsty enough!  Stupid blob! *She bounces on it, but it just gives her the rebound action her floor lacks*

Mokuba: You could set it on fire.  I tried that with big brother's teddy bear…it was really combustible.  You should've seen it go up!

Jessica: Hey, nifty idea! 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            I could not sleep at the thought of Mokuba lying downstairs, bloody and unmoving, on the couch.  I tossed and turned, thinking of the mysterious killer and the trouble it had brought me.  Finally, I fell into a restless sleep, though as soon as I had the dream, I wished I were awake.

            A phantom approached me, holding a knife in its hand.  The knife was stained with the blood of a former victim.  I tossed and turned, for I was sure that the phantom was Mokuba's murderer.  Would he kill me, too?

            Tears ran down my cheeks.  I was in such a misery that I hoped he would kill me…I didn't care how much I suffered.  I was already suffering so much by Mokuba's sudden death…no blade could possibly make me feel worse.

            The phantom figure turned scornfully.  "No, I shall not kill you, Seto Kaiba," it intoned in a terrible voice.  "No, I shall leave you to suffer as you watch your life disintegrate before your very eyes…"

            Then it laughed, making my blood run cold.  I woke up, sweating.

            I was afraid to sleep again.  The murderer would surely come to me in my dreams.  Oh, how I wished that all this were just a nightmare, and that I would hear my alarm go off at precisely 5:00, as if to chide me, "Wake up you little silly!  You're dreaming and you have school today!"

            No, my alarm would not ring to save me.

            I dressed and went down the many floors to the kitchen, purposely avoiding Mokuba's body.  I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed a tall, full-length mirror.  I had shadows under my eyes and my skin was gray.  I came closer and was shocked to find that my hair had a fine silver line in it.

            I was not yet thirty and this stunned me.  But I, Seto Kaiba, was too exhausted to care about my appearance.  I wanted to sleep and forget everything that happened to me.  I wanted to die, to leave the world and join Mokuba.  To soar up into heaven or down into hell, nothing mattered.  I wanted to be with Mokuba.  Wherever he was…

            I didn't care if he was flying with angels or burning in the nadir of hell.  But I wanted Mokuba back…I kept thinking of the things I hadn't done.  The things that would've saved his young life.

            I wished that Mokuba would wake up, stretch, walk around, and laugh (how I missed that laugh!).  I wished it as passionately as, when I was younger, I had wished that I could be like the other boys, that I could have fun for once, that I could be the best duelist in the world, that I could defeat Exodia…

            But I would give up all my money, all my fame, all my titles and cards…

            If I could have Mokuba back in my life.

            I braced myself and walked over to the couch that he lay on, silent and unmoving.  I felt a sharp pang in my heart as I stared at the quiet, pale face.  It was so different from the face of Mokuba's happy, rambunctious childhood.  It wasn't just that he had matured and his features were less childlike, but then, he had been bubbling over with mirth and his eyes were large and bright.  They had held an innocence of the world beyond.

            Not anymore.

            I gazed sadly at Mokuba for a moment.  Then, when I looked up, I started in surprise.  The old Mokuba I had known so well was running towards me, arms outstretched, eyes wide and bright again.  His face was candid and innocent, but as he ran, he began to grow older until he was the age when he died.

            I ran to Mokuba, tears running down my cheeks.  I held my arms to him, and he fell through them.  He ran straight through me and into the arms some unknown angel. 

            He looked so happy.  I wished that I could join him, that we could be together once more.  I was about to turn away from the illusion when a sinister voice whispered into my ear, poisoning my thoughts and torturing my very soul.

            "Does it hurt you, Seto Kaiba, to see your brother reject you for someone he does not even know? Yes, let the image eat away at your spirit until you are ready to take your own life…"

            I covered my ears and fell to my knees.  "No! Stop it!"

            "He never needed you to be happy…never needed you for anything…"

            The voice tortured me and clearly enjoyed it.  "Why are you doing this to me?" I sobbed.

            "I want to torment you like I did your brother…only in a more…enjoyable…way…"

            I looked up.  The phantom was gone, and so were the illusions that had afflicted me. 

            I was a broken man, but determined to find who had killed my little brother.  I scanned the news, hoping to find some hints.  I started to record my telephone calls, in case a tipster had information of use.  Though it pained me to do it, I went into Mokuba's room and started to look around.

            The headlines I got were of no use.

            Mokuba Kaiba's Murderer Still at Large

  (Domino Times, 10/25)

            Police Still Questioning Possible Suspects

                          (Domino Times, 10/26)

            I had started reading of hit-and-run murders.  Though the actual killings intrigued me, I was more interested in what the family had done in response.  One family had gone to a psychic.  I scoffed at that and stopped reading.

            I could tell that Mokuba's murder was taking its toll.  I could not sleep for fear that the phantom would appear to me, I barely ate, and sometimes I would cry at random moments.  My company was going downhill, and I didn't even care.  My new duel disk design never went out to the public.

            I could not bring myself to even duel.  My reputation for the world's number one duelist was going down the drain.  Most people sympathized with me, saying that it was hard to get over a close one's death.

            Others, however, said that I was just moping and too afraid to face reality.

            I was not afraid to admit that they were right.

            I got ceaseless telephone calls from annoying reporters.  Sometimes I wouldn't even pick up the phone.

            One day, the telephone in my office rang.  I didn't pick it up.  The answering machine automatically kicked in.

            "You've reached Kaiba.  I'm too busy to answer your telephone call right now.  You can either leave your message after the tone or go away and annoy me later.  BEEP."

            The rude automated message didn't seem to faze the caller.  I shuddered as I heard the voice.

            "Remember me, Kaiba?"

            Yes, I did.  How could I forget the voice that haunted me day and night, whether I slept or not?  How could I forget the voice of the phantom? Of the psychopath who had murdered my only family?  Of course I remembered that haunting, chilling, evil voice.

            "The way you accept your brother's murder is amusing…"

            Amusing? Who did this guy think he was?

            "Maybe I should put you out of your misery…the same way I did with your brother…"

            Angrily, I picked up the phone.  "Who do you think you are?" I bellowed.

            On the other end, the caller chuckled.  It was a laugh that froze me to the bone.  "Who do I think I am? I am the one who has ruined your life.  I am the one who killed your brother.  I am the one whose name you curse.  I am the one…"

            There was a pause.  "…who is going to kill you, too, Seto Kaiba."

            I dropped the receiver, shocked. 

            I was afraid to leave the house after that.  But when a month passed with no strange happenings, I began to ease back into my old life.

            However, I could not bring myself to hold a funeral for Mokuba.  Having him (or at least his body) in the house was a way for me to feel that Mokuba had not truly died, that his spirit was still with me.  I was taken aback, one day, when without thinking I began to talk to his corpse.

            "Hey, kid," I said quietly.  "I wish you were still here.  I miss you a lot."

            I started in surprise.  Was I going insane? Trembling, I reached for the telephone.  I remembered the book that I had read of the family who had gotten clues from psychics about the murderer. 

            I had never believed in psychics.  But now…maybe…maybe I could get some clues from one now.  Maybe it was the time to believe…I would do anything to get a single clue.

            I automatically dialed a number I had sworn I would never call.  I called Isis Ishtal.        

            Why did I call Isis of all people?  I had not liked her and only had seen her exhibit for Obelisk.  So why did I call her for help?

            And I knew that she did not have her powers anymore.  She had given away her Sennen Tauk to that runt, Yugi.  However, I knew that she would have some answers for me.

            The phone on the other end rang endlessly.  Finally Isis picked it up.  "Hello?" she said, sounding as mysterious and as inexplicable as ever.

            "Kaiba."  I tried to imitate my old, haughty tone, but my voice broke.  I was different from the sharp Kaiba I had been before Mokuba's death.

            Isis interrupted me before I could go any further.  "I think I know what you want.  Come to the museum.  I cannot give you the answers you seek, but I can give you something useful to your quest."

            Then she hung up.  It irked me to be pitied, especially by someone I disliked.  But I would do anything to punish my brother's murderer.

            I went into Mokuba's room as I had done so many times.  A childhood photo of me was hung up on the wall.  It seemed to glare at me for throwing away the independent act I had put on all my life.  For calling on the aid of another.

            "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I snapped to my younger self in the photo.  "I just want to know who did this…"  I could not hold my gaze with the sharp one in the photograph and looked away.  "I just want to find myself again.  I only want to know.  I only want to be able to look into my brother's face without feeling that I have failed."  I whispered this last part. 

            For every time I looked at Mokuba, I felt like he was angry with me for not knowing who had ruined both of our lives.  But I often wondered how I could feel this, since he was dead.  I would not admit it to myself, but I knew in my heart that I could not possibly be feeling what Mokuba felt, since his body was now but an empty shell.

            Finally I braced myself and took the limo to Isis's museum.

            She had been waiting, and motioned me to sit in a chair across from her.  "Hello, Seto Kaiba," she said quietly.  "I am sorry for your loss."

            The old me would've made some sharp, snappy comeback.  The old Kaiba would've told her exactly what he felt.  He would say that she needed not to be sorry and that she couldn't possibly care that Mokuba was dead.  But the new me only waited silently for her to continue.

            "What do you sense?" I said when the silence grew.  I never would've asked such a question before.  Before, I had not believed in her "feelings" and "magic".  Now, I would believe anything if it would help me find my old life.

            She bowed her head slightly.  "This gives me a sense," she began.  "You have changed, Seto Kaiba.  You are willing to believe anything.  This may lead you to a false trail.  This could be dangerous for you."

            I did not interrupt. 

            "This part puzzles me.  I sense that the murderer is connected to me, somehow.  I can just feel our connection, though when I try to grasp it, it slips away.  I believe that I know this man, though not personally."

            I had just been about to suggest Malik.  However, if she did not know him personally, it could not possibly be him.

            "While I waited for you, I received several messages."  Isis frowned.  "They came to me through illusions.  From these pictures, I saw that you, too, know the murderer."

            I was startled.

            "Kaiba, why do you wish to know this?" Isis asked.  "I sense this will lead you to much sorrow and turmoil!  Why can you not live on with this and push it aside?" 

            I gave her an angry glare.  It was as if the old me had come back, but only for a short moment.  "Obviously you do not understand," I said icily.  "He wants me to know." 

            It sounded stupid, and I realized it.  I turned on my heel and walked out of the museum.

            Someone who didn't know me would say I was coping unusually well.  I wasn't.  I could not bring myself to come to work and spent all my time taking walks in deserted areas or playing mindless games on the computer.  Freecell.  Minesweeper.  Pinball.  Solitaire.  Games that involved little strategy and mostly luck.

            I deleted my blueprints for my new duel disk design.  All I used my computer for was to play stupid games and write meaningless phrases even I didn't know the meaning of.

Gone and never came back

Gone and I couldn't follow.

Gone and I can't find him

Far away

Where I can't go

Where I want to follow but can't

Unless the knife…

Which I can't

But why?

            Kaiba, 12/10

            Christmas was approaching fast.  It pained me to see the happy children playing in the snow and buying presents.  It pained me to see joyful families having fun and couples walking in the twilight.  It pained me even more to see the carolers going around.  Another high-school student, one with absolutely no charm and no singing voice, filled Mokuba's place.

            What angered me most was the new news headline.

            Mokuba Kaiba's Murder Announced Accident

                               (Domino Times, 12/13)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jessica: Another 2000 word chapter…-__-; This is getting tiring.

*Jessica and Mokuba have managed to set everything BUT the writer's blob on fire*

Mokuba: I guess these things aren't combustible.  Darn.

Jessica: Still have one match…want to have a go?

Mokuba: Sure.

*Writer's Blob is set aflame*

Jessica: YES!

Yami: AH! FIRE! *gets fire extinguisher and sprays everywhere*

The dust clears, and the Writer's Blob is still whole.

Jessica: YAMI!

*In traditional dust-cloud format, Jessica beats up Yami into a crushed pulp*

^_^ I feel better now.

Sorry to Yami fans ^_^ but I couldn't resist.  No, Yami is not a highly-abused character in my fanfics.  I just find him as an easy target.