A/N: Thank you reviewer!

KFF: Glad you liked it! I'll keep it going, definitely!

Disclaimer: I don't even want to own Yu-gi-oh; I don't think I'd do very well at all at handling it. Intention of this fan fiction is not to make money. I also do not own any other copyrighted material that may appear in this.

This is not a typical near-death experience. Mokie'd talked about them back when he wanted to be a neurologist or psychologist or something. A typical NDE definitely does not involve psycho priests with mind control.

But then, I'm far from normal.

"Nii-sama…please…" Mokuba whispered, staring helplessly as the paramedics tried to revive his older brother, whose skin was even paler than normal due to blood loss. The bloodied rags Mokuba had desperately wrapped around his brother's wrists were still there, though wrapped in bandages, the ragged-edged cloth somehow a metaphor…a metaphor for what? Mokuba seized upon this tangent, desperate to think about something other than the seconds left until his brother's life could never be regained…

The scales of the dragon before me shone a violent crimson. A violent crimson. Stained by my blood.

Seth stood behind me, grasping the Millennium Rod tightly, his eyes betraying the first hint of fear I'd seen. The golden rod was in my hand, still. That was surprising. I would have taken it away…

"Tell me how you did that." The fear leaked through the command, along with just a hint of ambition. I smiled and stroked the lowered head of the dragon, letting the blood coat my hand.

"No." Seth's eyes blazed with anger. Excellent. I did wish I knew what it was I had done, though… "Give me one reason to." A sly smile appeared on his face.

"Your obsession: to defeat him." I knew he meant Yugi. Why wouldn't he think, already…?

"I committed suicide, Egyptian," I stated flatly. "How long is it going to take you to get that?" He snarled in surprised anger.

"I do not believe I would do so," he replied just as flatly, staring at me. "You are weak, and I am ashamed that I was reborn as you." I stepped closer to him, hatred twisting my thoughts. How dare he judge me so! I wanted to bring him down. I wondered thoughtfully how I could do so.

"But you do not know why," I whispered softly, letting malice drip from my voice like the blood from my hand.

"It doesn't matter. You're still weak." His voice remained flat.

"I killed myself because I won…against him."

A metaphor…The two ragged edges where the rag had been ripped in two stood starkly against the white hospital bandages. Black on white. A chessboard, with each side of pawns trying to reach the other but having to battle the other pieces…The rags and bandages were a metaphor for life and death, each struggling against the other, a game with the highest of stakes...

Mokuba accessed the data for neurological and hormonal scans of Seto during his last duel with Yugi, giving the information to the emergency doctors so that they could recreate the sense of being in the duel that mattered to him the most. The doctors did not question, but merely obeyed, a sign they had lost hope. No. He couldn't die.

Seto had lost every duel against Yugi that Mokuba had seen. He must not lose this one, for however much the duels against Yugi mattered to Seto, this one mattered more.

A/N: Hm…poor Mokie's not stopping to think that his brother committed suicide, either…interesting, how this is turning out…Review, and I will be happy. Thanks again reviewers!