Midnight of the Soul
Chapter Six: Twilight
Disclaimers: see Chapter 1 – Ditto for warnings & ratings
Oh, and I apologize in advance for any OOC Seto & Mokuba cuteness!
People talk about having their lives turned 'upside down' in less a second; it doesn't always happen that quickly and sometimes it's more of a good shake up rather completely turned over, with lingering aftershocks that take a while to subside. And while it may not appear that anything has really changed, some of the pieces aren't where they used to be…. They don't fit the old pattern anymore or have gone missing entirely, and sometimes there are brand new pieces that need to be incorporated into the kaleidoscope mosaic. Or you realize pieces you thought didn't belong at all are such an essential part of the design that you smack yourself in the head and vow to go see an eye specialist in the morning, because surely you must have gone partially blind not to have seen it earlier.
That's not quite what's happened to me, but it's damned close.
Mokuba called about an hour ago. His friend Tohru's parents had invited him to supper, and I of course said 'yes' -- as long as he was back by 9:00; it is, after all, still a school night even if it's only a half-day tomorrow. Midori-san discovered the remnants of last night's popcorn orgy and gave me a stern lecture on nutrition, responsibility and setting a good example for my younger brother. Keh. I think I shocked her when in the middle of her tirade I stood up, said in a very meek tone of voice: "I'm sorry, okaasan, I won't do it again. May I go to my room now?", then leaned over (at six foot plus, I'm taller than most adults, even) and kissed her goodnight on the cheek. Something I haven't done since -- well, I don't think I ever have, before. How odd. It just seemed like the proper thing to do, under the circumstances.
You'd think a person might get used to the shock of having reality re-arranged, should it happen often enough. Maybe some people do, taking each change in stride or looking at it as an opportunity… a challenge or an adventure. Some people, I suspect, become overwhelmed and stop reacting entirely; the mental ward at the hospital is full of catatonic patients who couldn't deal with the shock of a changed reality. I nearly was one of them, thanks to the Other Yuugi. And yet, it was the Other Yuugi who pulled me out of where-ever I was -- he and Mokuba, through my soul bond with the Blue-Eyes White Dragon cards.
Heh. Forty-eight hours ago I would have sneered in the face of anyone, even Mutou Yuugi, who tried to talk to me about the heart of the cards, ancient spirits and magical talismans. Me, a reincarnated Egyptian Priest? Yuugi, an Egyptian Pharaoh? Bakura-kun….I'm not sure what he is supposed to be. Was supposed to be.
I don't know who you are, Bakura Ryou. But from what I now know about you, I think maybe under other circumstances we could have been friends. You were just short of your tenth birthday when a careless locomotive engineer shattered your family; I was just past mine when aspeeding drunkdriver robbed Mokuba and I of ours. We have so much in common – if I believed in such things, I'd be tempted to say it was destiny. Both of us abandoned, neglected, or abused by those who should have cared for us --- if our relatives had been kinder and less greedy, if yours had nurtured you instead of treating you like an unwelcome embarrassment, if Gozaburo had truly been the kind of man his Public Relations people portrayed him as being -- we might never have met, true, but if we had….
Too late now. If you ever had even the slightest regard for me, it must be utterly destroyed after yesterday.
Are you like me, trying to fight what others claim to be your destiny? Feh! Just another way they try control our lives! I had Mokuba to give my life a purpose. What did you have? A chronically absent father, emotionally distant relatives, constant instability in your life with so many school transfers --- oh, and let's not forget a maniacal alter ego with a penchant for the occult and deadly destruction. No wonder you hover at the edges of Yuugi-tachi like a moth near a flame, afraid of getting burned again but still craving the warmth and the light of friendship. Somehow you hold on, you survive; because of your 'Other Self' -- or in spite of him?
Was that how the Rare Hunters got their hooks into you during Battle City, by offering to exorcise your personal Egyptian demon in exchange for your help in defeating the King of Games? I wouldn't blame you for it, if I'm right about your Other Self being responsible for those most recent school transfers -- because I've been there. Willing to do anything to make the nightmare go away. To make him go away. No, far more likely that they made a deal with him behind your back, so to speak, because I remember too well the fear and confusion in your voice when the false Marik returned you to yourself on the Battle Ship's dueling platform. Some people might think you got off relatively easy with a brand and some stab wounds, considering the mess those cultists made of Marik's back.
I don't. It makes me sick.
Gozaburo tried to own me -- and he came closer than I care to admit. The forced studies, the sleep deprivation, the beatings, and the threats… they all took their toll, left scars both visible and unseen. Sexual abuse -- no, that he never did, other than to make sure I understood the penalties for failure, for betrayal: death, or worse. Death was not an option; I refused to leave Mokuba alone and defenseless. 'Worse' -- I like to think I would not have broken, that I could have used it instead to strengthen my hate and will to survive, to turn the tables on my tormentor and crush him instead. But it was not only my body and soul at risk; one of Gozaburo's associates 'liked' young boys, and I was already too old.
And so I became what Gozaburo wanted me to be. That last day in the boardroom we both knew that only one of us would walk out alive. I'd done everything I could to stack the deck in my favor. Isono was my man, not Gozaburo's; he had instructions regarding Mokuba in the event that I failed. Even so, I was terrified: I could still lose, Isono could still betray me….
I won that day. But I also lost, because no matter how hard I try to bury him Gozaburo is still part of me. Not even the Other Yuugi's 'Mind Crush' could completely purge that bastard's influence from my soul, the infection had gone too deep. I survived Gozaburo, I defied Isis Ishtar's prophecies -- I still don't believe in that 'destiny' crap, but the other pieces of the puzzle have started to almost make sense. And that scares me. Almost as much as the realization of what I did … what I almost did … to Bakura yesterday.
I have to face it. Tonight, before Mokuba gets home. Yesterday… I can't avoid it any longer, I have to stop making excuses. It wasn't a misunderstanding; it wasn't about the motorcycle or insults, or even raging teenage hormones. Rape is not about sex. It's anger and violence, and forcing another person to submit to your will, reducing them to something less than human in your eyes --- and in their own --- in a brutally painful and humiliating manner. It's power and control; humiliation, punishment and defeat.
Do you know, Bakura, how it feels ? To know that you can inspire fear and awe in another's soul? That your word controls life and death, that your touch evokes pain -- or pleasure -- against another's will? Marik knows. I think your Other Self does, too. It's like a drug. Overwhelming and addictive, because the more you get the more you want; dangerous, because the more you get the more you think you need until nothing else matters. Nothing. You start to think that power gives you control, keeps others from controlling you.
It does, and it doesn't. I lost control yesterday at the very moment I believed I held it strongest. I believed you to be helpless, I believed I had won -- all I had to do was force you to admit defeat. Still you resisted, refused to submit. You weren't actively fighting back, but you weren't cooperating, either. Don't you understand, Bakura? I had to break you, to control you, to hold onto the power. I had control when I forced a reaction, the gasp of shock that allowed me a taste of your fear, and I didn't hesitate to press my advantage. I felt your body respond to mine and it was like a strong shot of sake, burning and glowing and going straight to my head and…god. It was holding Obelisk and knowing that I was invincible again, euphoria bubbling in my blood and out through my lungs in a burst of triumphant laughter … I wanted more, and I knew you could give it to me. All I had to do was take it.
You refused to look at me; stronger than you seem, and I have the bruises to prove it, but I will not be denied, Bakura! Fuck this passive resistance; you will acknowledge me, damn you! Even if I risk getting mind/soul blasted by some ancient Egyptian demon I won't admit to believing in, let alone being afraid of -- you're the one who's afraid, I can taste it on your skin. Fear, and something else. I hear it as you struggle to breathe, I feel it in the tremors that shake the slender frame unwillingly pressed beneath my own …
'….please, Kaiba…. Don't…'
I feel a smirk coming on. There's blood on your lip, coppery and salty. So, I purr sadistically to myself as I let my hand explore beneath your jacket, my fingers making quick work of undoing the oh-so-properly buttoned-up barrier of your school shirt, just what is it that you're so afraid of, ne? Paying the penalty, or the possibility that you might actually be -- well, maybe not enjoying yourself, but you could be trying harder to stop me. The tips of my fingers skim across soft skin that quivers at my touch, smooth but with a barely discernable texture sends inexplicable shivers down my spine. Calling it 'satin-like' would be cliché and that's something I try to avoid, especially while seducing a riv— is that what I'm doing? I thought I was subduing my opponent, claiming my prize. The idea of Bakura, of all people, being a rival--! I growl deep in my throat. No, that title belongs solely to Mutou Yuugi! All the others are zako, insignificant gnats that deserve only to be swatted and crushed, like this boy who dares challenge and defy me! Then my fingers seem to catch against a strange roughness and -- sticky? Bakura screams….
I feel like I've been drenched suddenly in ice water; the shock almost stops my heart. Bakura… oh God, what… what am I doing? I think I'm going to vomit, there are scars and oozing blood and --- no, tell me that's not what I think it is--- I'm hallucinating, that's it…. There is not an encircled triangle burned into… into…. Hesitantly I touch the mark and the boy underneath me flinches, tears in his dark brown eyes.
"What --" I can barely force the words to come out -- "who did this?" Not me, I know sometimes I get strange when I'm on what Mokuba calls a 'power high' but surely I'd remember doing something like this, I wouldn't fall that far from sanity again -- would I?
"What the hell do you care?" My turn to flinch, because Bakura has a point. Why should I care what some other sadistic psycho has done to him? After all I was about to…Bile rises in my throat, and I barely keep from spewing…. Dear god, I was…. "Just do it, Kaiba. Get it over with."
I can't.
I've won.
I've….lost.
And only now, some twenty four - six - eight, whatever! - hours later can I admit to myself not only that I've lost, but how much and how badly…. I was so blind. All through the Battle City Tournament my goal was to win the God Cards and defeat Mutou Yuugi, to regain my World Championship title and publicly prove that I am not just Kaiba Gozaburo's private punching bag and corporate puppet, not just a foolish child playing games while the adults pull the strings and make me dance. Winning would give me a position of strength by restoring public confidence in Kaiba Corporation, so that I could finally shake off the last traces of Gozaburo's poison and keep my promises to Mokuba. No one and nothing could be allowed to stand in my way; anyone who tried would be crushed. No mercy.
Just like Gozaburo taught me.
How many times do I have to prove myself? How many times to I have to kill him? Why. Won't. The Bastard. Stay. DEAD?
I wish I could just curl up in a corner of my bed and let these frustrations drain away in a torrent of tears, like any normal teenager might -- but I can't. I'm not normal. I'm what Gozaburo made me -- a monster. Monsters don't cry. Monsters don't make friends with the lonely, abused and neglected boy from the other side of town, the boy with his own demon inside; not after trying to beat him into the ground, to force him into submission by any means.
Especially not after trying to rape him.
Monsters are violent, hateful, and greedy. They aren't capable of being kind and caring. Monsters …can't…change…
Can they? Can I? I have already, a little, I think… I've tried… for Mokuba. Death-T is gone, and KaibaLand rises brilliant and gleaming in its stead. Alcatraz is gone; Gozaburo's war machine is scrap metal rusting on the ocean floor. I have Kaiba Corporation. I have my dragons. I have Mokuba…. What more do I need?
"Seto? Are you awake?" I sit up, hastily rubbing my face dry against a pillow. Tears are a weakness. Never show weakness, not even to Mokuba.
"I am now, kiddo," I manage to reply with only the faintest quaver in my voice.
"Sorry…"
"Don't be."
"Bad dreams?"
"Aa." I hold out my arms, and Mokuba doesn't hesitate to jump up onto the bed and into a snuggle. Mokuba never learned to fear another person's embrace, and I feel a whisper of warm relief in my soul, in knowing that I was able to protect him from that, at least. "Did you have fun this evening?"
"Yup! You should have been there, Nii-san!" and he's off and chattering, a living breathing miracle, practically unscathed by the darkness that shaped me and ruled our lives for so many years. I let my brother ramble while I hold him close, cherish him, vowing once again to keep him safe with everything I have and am, for as long as humanly possible. For as long as he'll let me.
Don't hate me, ototou-chan. Please…. I know I'm a monster, but I'm trying… I'm trying to change…
Change of Heart.
My Blue-Eyes shattering, like glass.
I shudder and Mokuba squeaks in protest at the sudden tightening of my arms. "Nii-san?"
"Sorry." I let go, half expecting him to retreat warily. Instead. Mokuba settles down next to me.
"Does your head still hurt?"
"A little." Actually, it's my heart that hurts, and I'm damned if I can understand why – well, I'm probably already damned long since, just ask the bonkotsu, he'd be willing and able to reel off a long detailed list of my sins beginning with the day I first walked into the Class 2-B homeroom and ending…with yesterday, if he knew.
"I'll be quiet, then."
"It's alright, Moku'; I like to hear you talk."
My little brother gasps loudly in fake shock and takes a dramatic tumble off the bed. "You -- ! Who are you, and what have you done with Seto?"
It's been a long time since I've tried to look innocent and injured, I'm out of practice, but I give it my best shot. "Mokuba! Little brother, I'm right here! Whatever do you mean?"
He hits me with a pillow. I smirk.
"Of course you realize," I drawl with the thick American accent of one of Mokuba's favorite cartoon characters – the weird duck, you understand, not that inane rabbit Pegasus was enamored with – "This means War!"
This also means, part of my mind notes, another lecture from Midori-san about how pillows are meant for sleeping on, not waging mock Armageddon against ones' siblings. But it's worth it to hear Mokuba's giggles and laughter as the feathers fly and the sheets get tangled and at last we both collapse atop the ravaged mattress, breathless and exhausted.
"Niisama?"
"Hai."
"… love you."
"Mou…." The breath catches in my throat. "Even if I did something terrible, Moku'?"
"That's nothing new."
"But… you don't know…."
"Doesn't matter….are you sorry?"
"And if I'm not?"
"You are, I can tell… even then, niisan."
"Why?"
"Baka." Mokuba boffs me in the head with a dragon plushie and gives me The Look. "Baka, baka, baka, baka."
"You love me because I'm a moron? I guess that explains your attachment to Yuugi-tachi…."
THWAP!
"They're no such thing and you know it, Seto!" The fierceness of his reply is startling, and my immediate impulse is to respond with a some scathing comment about the mediocrity of Jounouchi Katsuya, or Masaki Anzu's annoying predilection for lectures about things she knows nothing about, or Mutou Yuugi's naïve trust in the innate goodness of humanity when Mokuba and I are living proof of the exact opposite, or Bakura – my mouth snaps shut before a single syllable emerges. The worst of it is that he's right.
"Bedtime, kiddo." I change the subject abruptly, forestalling indignant protests by figuratively pulling the rug out from under Mokuba's feet (considering we're both still sprawled helter-skelter across my bed) and literally hauling his ass down the hallway to his own room. My brother, of course, puts up a struggle, especially when we pass Midori-san along the way -- Kaibas do not 'go quietly into that good night' as the British poet so eloquently put it, even if there is school tomorrow. And why is my housekeeper giving me that odd look? Mokuba is quick to enlighten me once we reach sanctuary.
"There are feathers stuck to your ass," he snickers.
"Language, Moku'."
"Pot, kettle, black."
"Thank you, little brother, but I am unfortunately all too aware of the inconsistencies between my own behavior and the code of conduct I should like you to observe…" I try to keep my tone dry and detached, but apparently my usual mask is too badly cracked, because Mokuba squirms about to wrap arms and legs tightly around my upper torso and clings limpet-like with his face buried against my shoulder.
"Sorry, big brother," he mumbles, and I sigh.
"Not your fault, kiddo. My mess, my mistakes…. My responsibility to clean it up."
"Huh?"
I gently detach Mokuba from my side, setting him down on the edge of his bed and lowering myself to kneel on the floor in front of him. He looks… apprehensive and a little scared, because he knows it has to be serious.
"Er…. Seto? If this is about the, um, birds and the bees? I already know, kinda…."
And to both our surprise, I laugh in genuine amusement and appreciation.
"I wish! That would be…. well, not easy, but……easier." I take a deep breath. "Mokuba. Remember what I said during Battle City about burying the past and starting over?" He inhales sharply and opens his mouth, hurt written across his expression at the memory; I forestall him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "I never intended to hurt you with that; the past I wanted to forget was Gozaburo, not you. Not our dreams for making other children happy. I want to be the big brother you remember, but… I … don't know if it's possible anymore….I don't know if I can be…."
Mokuba's biting his lip.
"I want to be, Mokuba, but I don't know…. it might be too late….. I might not be able to … to fix… what I've broken. But I'm going to try…"
"You'll do it, Seto. I know you will." Mokuba's face is streaked with tears, but his voice is strong and confident. Little brother…. I wish I had your faith in me.
"It won't be easy," I warn. "I'll make mistakes and lose my temper and use language unfit for polite company, and be generally rude and unpleasant…."
Ototou-chan makes a rude noise of his own. "So what else is new?"
"… and… I'm…goingtotrytobenicertoYuugitachi….."
I take my leave while Mokuba is still getting over the shock of my final statement and head back to my room. When I boil it down to the basics, it seems simple enough. If I want to change, the first step is to change my behavior. That should eventually result in a change in perceptions, both my own and those with whom I interact on a regular basis. It won't happen overnight; it took years to turn me into a monster and although I hope it won't take that long to turn me back into a human being, I'm not optimistic. Because so much depends on factors that are completely out of my control.
What do I do now, Other Yuugi? How do I atone for my crimes? How do I heal the wounds I've inflicted?
I don't know what to do. What can I do?
Nothing, yet. Like Midori-san said, I need to give it time. I was wrong, in thinking the game was over yesterday. It's Bakura's move, and we never set a time limit.
God help us both.
Aaaand, that's a wrap on "Midnight." Next stop: either "Still Waters" or "Calm Before the Storm" -- I'm still uncertain about what I'm going to do with Ryou's POV chapter; it took that proverbial 'left turn at Albuquerque!'.
Author's Notes: Thank you to all my faithful readers, and some new ones I seem to have acquired as well. There seems to be considerable interest in having Kaiba meet the Japanese grandparents at some point – I think it could be arranged. Eventually. And several people enjoyed the way I had Seto piece together Ryou's history from various public records. As to the Dual Monsters 'solitaire' game – that's sort of a manifestation of the Yami no Game Ryou called on Seto at the end of 'Breaking Strain', as are assorted nightmares both boys will be experiencing from time to time. Special thanks to Amun-Ra for reading an earlier version of this chapter when I got stuck, and making some helpful comments and asking a couple of questions that made me think harder. Curious Forgotten Lore: Better late than never! See above comment about the grandparents. You're right, Seto doesn't have a very high opinion of Bakura Senior, but I couldn't really think of a way to bring that out in this particular story. Um, about the Kiss in the park and Ryou's reaction – well, let's just say both boys are deliberately not thinking about the, erm, implications, other than Kaiba being on a power high. PenPusherM: Um, hi? I know this wasn't particularly soon, and it's still a bit of a cliff hanger – don't hurt me? Mangez-Maltesers: were you able to open the 'Shadows' attachment? I ask because I sent a preview to my sister (LyntheLurker) and she couldn't get it to work. I LUV writing Seto & Mokuba interaction! I think it's an addiction; I had the hardest time getting this chapter back on track! Nachez & Psyche – thanks for still reading. Kakyo: where are you?
Later!
Mother CHOW Goddess