One note: "mou hitori no boku" means "other me" and is what Yugi calls the Spirit of the Puzzle (writing it as "other me" just doesn't sound right). And again, "aibou" means partner, being what the Spirit calls Yugi.

Chapter 9

Gozaburo started his education program, and it was like he had to open my scalp and literally puncture and shove all the information into my writhing, dully-pounding brain. Every subject had "advanced" lesson plans that he himself instructed me in, a riding crop always prepared under his gleeful face. Even with the hint of abuse awakening an awareness to its presence, always almost seeing the threat from the corner of my eye like a flash of a spectral phantom, I did not despair. Had I not won to this man before at his own game? That thought kept me strong in continuing onward. That, and my brother.

Mokuba. If it were not my own dreams still formulating and beginning to clamber in the back of my mind despite my attempts to keep them quiet, there were his and the vow I had sworn silently every day as I looked at his black head crowned in light. Light and hope and dreams.

He had an easier time in the mansion, not being sent through the same rigorous "exercises of the mind" I was, so it was not as if Mokuba always had to be holding onto to me or doing something with me during the time there. Sometimes, the mere presence of me in the room was enough for him. The way Mokuba would just come sit in the same room when allowed, doing nothing much but being there. For me it was a loving presence to balance with the growing awareness of the violent persona. For him, it was to satisfy his doubts, doubts that seemed to be rising up in order to overwhelm me with their mercilessness, like when he would creep over to open the door to my bedroom at night just to check on me, as if I would forget the years of responsibility and suddenly, in a spree of impulsiveness, abandon him sometime without warning.

He obviously did not know me as well as he thought.

After all, my brother had once told me years after the torture, "If the past can still be changed, I want niisama to be the one who always wore a smile."

That past was before you were born, kid.

Ms. Dojinschi had told him nothing hopeful about his brother at all. Apparently, his brother was still in the same condition. And the longer Mokuba was away and unable to see or hear any fluttering words of hope, the days slipped past like water over a rock. The light of the glimmering surface was a distant glint that was unreachable, especially with no way to float or swim.

At the orphanage years ago, Mokuba knew he had experienced similar feelings, but not too similar. After all, his older brother had been there for him then. For about the two-hundredth twenty-seventh time that day, Mokuba pulled out the picture that had been taken in a place very similar to this one and gazed at his brother's smiling face.

And here…with Sven and Mr. Guy seeming to embody all the aspects of his brother that he recalled so intently, Mokuba was beginning to doubt his brother even wanted to wake up from whatever strange loss of consciousness Seto was in.

Maybe…Mokuba dared to begin thinking, if I were to visit him I could help.

Then the boy sighed. I'll never get out of this place. Please, wake up, niisama.

Yugi stared at the Puzzle sitting ominously on the desk. It was still a whole pyramid…for the moment.

The questioning aura emitted from the Puzzle to his very heart and soul had faded once the pendant was gone from his neck, and still, Yugi had not dared to put his terrified thoughts into actual dialogue. But the Spirit of the Puzzle was waiting. Confused, but waiting.

The time had come to ask for the truth.

Yugi inched over to his desk and the heavy golden pyramid, hand trembling before gently resting on the smooth surface. Then, he raised the chain and put it around his neck.

Mou hitori no boku, I need to know.

What, aibou? The Spirit waited, though Yugi thought the pharaoh would know what he was thinking of. But apparently, his thoughts had to actually spit out the exact phrase, terrible as such an admittance would make him feel. Somehow, saying the evil question was worse than merely suggesting it.

Kaiba is just like he was…after you crushed his mind.

Yes, I saw.

Yugi hesitated once more. Other selves never made things easy…Did you have anything to do with it?

Faint recollections of times when the Spirit had taken over him without his realization still dwelled in the cobwebs of Yugi's dark mind, places he had ignored and wanted to forget once he and the Spirit were much closer and open with one another. But such memories were still there, inerasable.

Mou hitori no boku? Did you? Tell me the truth.

No steps were outside Yugi's door anymore; both adults had gone back to working in the shop, and Yugi hoped they wouldn't bother him about all this later. It was hard enough dealing with the Spirit—why would he want to deal with worried adults next?

You believe I would ever do something without your awareness now, Yugi?

Well…it's just so similar! I have to know!

The steady throb of the other Yugi's internal voice was bitter, So, Kaiba will always be our rival. Even in a near-death state, he will cause trouble.

Yugi bit his lip. It isn't about that; just tell me if you made him like how he is. Did you "mind crush" him again or is this some effect from before? Kaiba isn't the type to just go mad…

Hmph. You wouldn't know, aibou; he never would let anyone become his friend.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Yugi flopped back on his bed, wondering why a mind-chat was just as exhausting as one face-to-face with a stubborn child.

Fine, so Kaiba doesn't want to be my friend. I know. But just tell me already!

No.

Really? Yugi made a face. Or are you declining to answer my question?

Why would you ask me if aren't going to take my word for it? If a spirit could sulk, the one in the Millennium Puzzle was very nearly doing that. I was answering your real question, aibou.

A small silence was within Yugi's mind, or rather, a silence of conversation. Plenty of thinking was making Yugi's black void fill with multiple visions, words, scents, questions, and sounds.

Mou hitori no boku…what happens when someone is mind crushed?

Steps went by Yugi's door, slowing as they did so, probably to listen, but they faded away to another room. From the sound of the steps, it was his mother. That meant Yugi's grandfather was probably raiding the cookie jar.

Memories return from long ago…memories and values and past choices. One reassesses one's life and whether it has been lived as it ought to have been. But, I've never had it done to myself, so I'm sure there are plenty of variances.

The Spirit of the Puzzle had given out plenty of penalty games, yet he had never experienced them himself? Yugi wasn't certain how that made him feel. Was it right to give punishments that one did not know all the rules and boundaries to?

So, when Kaiba experienced that, which may even be close to what he is going through now, he would relive all his memories? All of them?

The Kaibas' history was not available like the front page of a newspaper, but Yugi knew enough to know that such memories would not be fun or easy. In fact, they would be torture for someone who hated merely hearing Mokuba mention Gozaburo months after the man's death.

Suddenly, realizing just what Kaiba was going through—the fact that it could merely be a possibility no longer dawned in Yugi's mind—and having to go through it again, once at the cost of a version of himself, Yugi wished he could help. It was better to tell others the horrible past than simply relive it again, wasn't it? And, as much as Kaiba liked to pretend none of it mattered, Yugi knew he lied. Kaiba lived a lie every day of his life. Just once, Yugi wished Kaiba would let the others, let Yugi, see him for who he truly was, would simply…

…let him be a friend.

Living in a constant state of fear was impossible, which was what Gozaburo somehow seemed to expect from me. Yet, doing so would make me unable to function and even attempt to have a life. If that were truly the case, it would be better to end my false life than give another pleasure in my fear.

Many countries experienced what I did. Yet, still, those who lacked living such lifestyles cannot understand an emotionless detachment to everything shocking going on around a person. A shrug when someone nearby is shot down from marauders from one government, while the other government struggles to keep control. A lack of concern to hear that other places have hit hard times. To live in a life of fear and death is to adopt its face as your own. And, once that has happened, nothing is shocking anymore, and there is no need to react and waste energy on something so common.

Heartless and cold I have been called. I don't deny it. But, there just may be some truth to the fact that there are different survival techniques one adapts to in a time of need. If my need was not then with Gozaburo, I couldn't say when it was.

Still, even though I was worked so pitilessly and hard to want death, I refused to let it break me. Mokuba would creep into my room at night and look for consolation. Now, with my hope returned to my face in battered bits of pottery unable to ever regain its former shape even if forged anew, I had to find the strength to remain positive for him, keep the energy to encourage him on when I had none left for myself. But I didn't let him see my weariness, or it would have all been for nothing.

It was only through being forgotten, unappreciated for what I did, that my role would have been done correctly.

Being shunted indoors, a boy could only do so much in one day. Jumi rarely left his side, and if Mr. Guy knew the younger boy was ruining his prospects for being adopted, the orphanage owner said nothing. That just made Mokuba grow more infuriated with the man. Infuriated because of his inaction or because such inaction was something his brother would have done?

Sick and tired of the questions and confusion roiling and revolving around his mind, Mokuba looked for some outlet to put aside his utter feeling of betrayal from the world by discovering just how different his brother was from these people. In this pit of spiraling despair, Mokuba could only recall that which emulated his surroundings: more depression and hurt.

Trying to recall any example of his brother helping someone besides himself…Mokuba just couldn't concentrate enough to remember. But it had to have happened once or twice. Didn't it?

The young Kaiba turned toward one of the other boys with unnamable misery bubbling to encompass his life and shadow it all with pain and memories of loss. Those were not the memories Mokuba wanted. He wanted ones that would not hurt this other boy, but what he learned had the propensity to harm Mokuba far more, far worse.

"What do you know about Sven's past?" he asked with nary a tremble or quiver, just a steady gaze and voice. Only his irregular heartbeat proved how much he longed to hear a tale completely different from his own, a story that would separate his brother and the bully once and for all.

"Sven? I dunno. I heard rumors, but he's been here longer than me. I don't trust the story I've heard."

"I'd still like to hear it."

The other boy shrugged and sighed. "Fine. I heard he used to be a well-off kid with two rich parents. But, his parents always argued about him and just wanted to use him as a prop to show off to important guests. A smart, polite boy who would charm the guests." The boy scoffed. "As if Sven was ever polite. Anyway, his parents got divorced and were fighting over who would get to have custody, and he ran away. That sounds like Sven. He lived out on the streets with a gang of kids."

Mokuba stared at the other boy, thinking rapidly, comparing personality traits and similarities in upbringings.

Leaning back against the wall, the other boy shoved his hands into his pockets, or at least, the two biggest holes that had once been pockets.

"Is that all? The entire story?"

"Yeah, that's all, little richie. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I never got to lord over any wealth or get used to any silken sheets. The streets were my home and that's where I loved. Now beat it." Sven towered over the other boy, who gulped and dashed off.

Glaring, Mokuba put his hands on his hips.

"How do you know I lorded over any wealth? Sounds like we have the opposite story, actually, in regards to wealth."

Sven instantly balled his hands and was only restrained from grabbing Mokuba and shaking him by the shadowed presence of Mr. Guy lurking in the doorway, pretending not to be too interested in their doings.

"Don't you ever think to say anything about me. You don't know me at all," he said lowly instead. Then, with a last glare, he marched away, hands still tightly clenching, nearly drawing blood.

"That's because you don't let anyone," Mokuba muttered with a sigh, wondering why he even cared.

How dare the little rich brat try to compare his life to mine! We couldn't be less similar. I hate wealth, Sven thought darkly as he mopped the kitchen floor.

Still, he recalled more just by hearing the little gossip story the one boy had heard. His entire story? Not remotely. But Sven wadded up the recollections and threw them away in the recesses for trash in his mind as he did with the garbage he picked up from the floor.

Sitting before the tall, heavy gate, she almost could not work up the courage to go within them.

Did she truly want to adopt a boy with the light gone from his eyes? A boy who knew more of the problems of the world than she herself knew and could help him with? Even Mokuba, her former student, even his eyes were turning hollow and reflective instead of perky and interested as when she knew him. Could she save even one of them? Did she have a right to try?

Kaede Dojinschi had dreams, or perhaps nightmares, of what she had seen at the orphanage and even more of what she had not seen—the boys' childhood problems that led to their being at the orphanage in the first place.

Finally, with a deep breath, the teacher climbed out of her car and walked over to the main building.

It was the fifteenth day of Mokuba's stay at the orphanage. And on his wrist, ticking slowly away, was the boy's watch, keeping track of the passing time whether or not he desire it.

"Ah, you're back. I'm so…thrilled to be of service to you as you pick and choose a potential child."

She stiffly looked Mr. Guy in the eye. "I am not choosing stock, Mr. Guy. But I have a right to become comfortable with a child before taking him into my complete custody and forever changing his life." She paused. "Don't you think?"

Mr Guy gave his customary smile that was as far from agreement as chaining oneself to a machine to protest destruction by it. Still, such a leer was the closest smile the slimy man ever made. "So, which boy will have your blessing bestowed as you give him your fawning attention today?"

Without a move, the teacher took a slow inhale. Then, she consciously relaxed her tense muscles and crossed her arms easily. Mokuba, whom she wanted to see, obviously would be unavailable to her. She had no excuse to see him, as the boy wasn't up for adoption for fifteen more days.

"Jumi, if you will."

Dojinschi nearly could see Guy's eyes congratulating her on her devious way to get to see the young Kaiba without mentioning him. But then, she scolded herself. She was putting too much into the conversation. Even if there were two conversations going on here, that didn't mean that the orphanage owner was out to ruin her intentions of spreading an idea to Mokuba.

"He's rather shy and full of bad memories. I think he would do better staying here at the orphanage a little longer."

"Facing his fear of shyness and making new memories, good ones, would help him more."

"Going too fast could give him a major setback."

"Going too slow could as well. He needs someone to rely on at this moment."

"Are you going to make yourself that person? Or are you going to take yourself away and hurt him more?"

"I wouldn't be here if I intended to hurt the boy."

"Can you keep yourself from doing something unintentional?"

"Can anyone lead a perfect life?"

After a pause, Mr. Guy asked once more, "How do you know you're right in your decisions?"

"Why are you so sure I'm not?"

They looked at each other, glint for discerning glint.

Finally, Mr. Guy leaned back slightly and smiled. "Jumi is probably inside. I'll just go get him."

She followed the man inside whether he wanted her to or not.

The dark interiors took some getting used to, but Mr. Guy's swift pace showed how well he knew the area. Soon, a room opened before them, and despite his blocking back, Dojinschi peered around him and saw two boys playing a game. But, when the smaller one glanced up, his eyes went wide and he scuttled behind Mokuba who was now looking up in curiosity.

"Jumi!" The orphanage owner's voice was remorseless. "Come here."

With a small glance from the corner of her eyes, the teacher breezed by the man and smiled in the boy's direction. "How are you today?"

Slowly, he poked his head from behind Mokuba's back and stared at her with his deep blue eyes. Even with her disarming smile, he only stared at her.

"It looks like you have a great older brother. Was he playing a game with you?"

Shyly, Jumi nodded fervently.

Glancing from person to person, Mokuba asked, "Jumi, why don't you continue the game with me? We can all play." He glanced over at Mr. Guy, but the man, frowning a warning at Kaede, turned and left.

Earnestly smiling now, Ms. Donjinschi came forward and crouched on the ground by the board filled with little pieces. She began asking the rules, and to keep her straight, Jumi once spoke up.

"No, this piece goes there!"

Mokuba was stifling a laugh, but he remained utmost serious in order to gravely agree with the terrible transgression his teacher had made. She corrected herself and began to take her turn.

By now, Jumi was out from behind Mokuba and sitting on one side of the board, concentration completely focused on the game and not the stranger. Once, when he was not thinking, he did something that brought smiles to both the other two's faces.

"And now I win! Right?" He peered closely at Dojinschi so she would not take away his win. When she nodded, he clapped and jumped up. "I win!"

As she looked at the happy boy before her, Ms. Donjinschi had to remind herself of what she had just argued about with Mr. Guy. Hurting this child was something she could never forgive herself for. She had to be careful here. Still, at the sight of the smiling midnight blue-eyed boy, she could not help but smile in return.

A little later, as Jumi was picking up the pieces, she took Mokuba aside and murmured, "I have no good news yet. But when I asked if you were allowed to visit your brother, they could think of no good reason not to. Still, it has to be in the presence of the social workers, and because of their busy schedule, I'm afraid you won't get to visit a lot. However, the first time you are able, if you wish, will be in three days. What do you think?"

See his brother? Go and see his sightless stare, his lack of communication, complete disregard for the responsibilities he had? Be there speaking to him and getting no indicator that he was heard? To have his hopes raised to tremulous heights only to careen and shatter on the baked-clay ground?

Without a twenty-second delay, Mokuba said, "Of course I want to see him! What time?"

They settled the details and then Jumi was clamoring for some attention once more.

"Oniichan!" With the accented beginning of the word, he tugged sharply on Mokuba's striped shirt. "Let's play another game!"

Games all day long…perhaps it was complete in bliss Jumi's mind, but it was tiring for Mokuba to constantly cater to the boy's whims. It took so much energy to continue his enthusiasm and dialogue with the younger boy. Energy he found he just didn't have.

"I'll play another one," Dojinschi said with a grin, hoping to see some positive reaction from Jumi. She wasn't disappointed. He did not look thrilled, but slowly, a smile was growing on his face as his enthusiasm rose and he raced to find another game.

"I'll play with you," he paused, then added very quietly, "Kaede."

She did not comment, but her smile widened. Even Mokuba grew a little more excited as he sat down to play again.

"You'll never manage to take over my company if you continue to slack like this, Seto!" Those words I had heard often enough. Either Gozaburo or one of his lackeys said them to me daily.

Those words were the mild ones. Plenty of other curses were sent my way, as well, and plenty of threats to being kicked out. Either me or Mokuba. Leaving Mokuba here alone scared me more than being kicked out with my brother, and yet, I hated to show them how well the threats worked. After all, ever since the first day, the competition between Gozaburo and I had been intense. I wouldn't lose now. I had a single defense whenever everything turned wrong, and if life seemed worse than death at times, I would look at the one element left within me that was mine alone and would always be true. Always. One could not change the past, as I well knew. And this was the one time such a factor benefited me.

In its platinum box, the memory resided. Untainted, recallable, important, it waited for me to simply sink through the darkened layers of my mind to return to it. There, suffused in its blankets of pride, strength, joy, and excitement, the memory had its home. So lovingly cared for and raised. It was the one thing I wouldn't let anyone sully. Not even Mokuba knew how much I relied on this memory.

They could try to threaten me, to say I was worth nothing. And it hurt. I cannot lie about that. There was no erasing the black marks that went on my life; there was no returning the light to my icy eyes. Even with Mokuba, there was no going back to the close father I once was. Even that, my role of father, was taken from me.

Yes, I had wanted the burden removed, but not as it had been. Instead of no longer needing to do my role, I was just removed from the picture completely. I had no time to spend with Mokuba, and my duties as a father began to cease from the beginning when my studies replaced it. Apparently, I was only allowed one set of roles. And, Gozaburo would never allow my roles to be even remotely close to his own. If Gozaburo was a father in name, then I could not be anything of the sort in deed. And as I knew, the difference in brother and father were shaded areas where one could not discern the line.

While I longed for "oniichan," I would have been pleased with being anything more than a mere "niisama."

Nights passed with no door creaking open and no boy coming to seek comfort after my exhausting lessons. And while it relieved my tired body and mind, such inaction frightened me more than anything else.

Was my brother turning to someone else with his child worries?

But still, despite the pain and hurt that came from change, there was the little box kept in the corner within my being. And even when the blackness of the sea depths overcame my vision late in the night where I lay exhausted unable to sleep, I had the warm glow to keep me struggling onward. Mokuba may have been removed from being my utter purpose in life, for while he was a purpose and I knew I still had to be strong for his sake, being separated from him made the dramatic ordeal of guardianship seem superfluous.

But still, I knew that however much I suffered now, I would not lose in the end. I was dead certain. Why?

I just had to open my box…

From that second visit by Ms. Dojinschi, Jumi had a slight change in behavior. He was still close to Mokuba, but he no longer needed the elder boy to constantly be with him throughout the day as his protection.

That first day, Jumi gave Dojinschi a hug when she said she was leaving, much to both Mokuba's and the teacher's astonishment.

"Come back." He looked up with big, midnight-blue, pleading eyes. "Please?"

Startled, she promised she would without thinking it through at all. But, she still had business at the orphanage for Mokuba's sake at least, as well as her own looking for a child, however much Guy disliked her presence as she "picked and assessed her purchases" like food in a grocery store.

But despite that, well…she feared her own fright of being too naïve to an orphaned child would make her decision difficult. And she didn't want to hurt Jumi by adopting him and not being there for him as she ought to be. Why had she been so adamant on wanting to adopt a child at all?

Teachers led such busy lives…

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and any reviews!