Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.
/blah/ Yami
/blah/ Yugi
I'm Filling the Cracks
I'm going under
Drowning in you
I'm falling forever
I've got to break through
I'm going under
I sing along to the song blaring in my ears. Not that I'm a huge Evanescence fan or anything, but the Fallen CD is great to ride to.
Jou called me on my cell a few hours ago and invited me over for dinner.
"Got a big surprise for you, Mok!" He'd exclaimed. I hope he doesn't think it'll be news to me about Anzu and Honda moving in together. That's old. But knowing Jou, that's probably it.
Or maybe he and Mai are…
Nah! He sounded too calm for that. If the remote possibility existed that he'd be a dad, he'd be running all over town telling everybody he knew about it.
Revving my bike a little more, I speed down the road to Jou and Mai's. I love riding. It's almost as good as flying. Actually, I guess that's why I love it, the glide, the speed, dipping and turning and revving and the wind…gods…the wind in my face! No matter how often I do it, every ride is intensely new.
Wake me up inside
Wake me up inside
Call my name and save me from the dark
It took me six months to talk Seto into buying me this motorcycle. It wasn't the price that bothered him so much as the power and speed that would be at my command.
"I don't want you to get hurt, Mokie," he'd stated, pulling out that old nickname.
The first conversation we had about it happened after we returned from a ride together, him on his 1983 Suzuki GSX110 Katana and me on my 1985 Kawasaki ZX750E Turbo. It was the second summer after his graduation. Seto had purchased the bikes from a vintage dealer and we spent most of the summer restoring them to their former glory. I think that was the last time he smiled honestly on a regular basis rather than every once in a great while like he does now.
After restoring them and taking a few test drives, we placed our masterpieces back into the garage for safe keeping. Over the next two summers, we restored another three bikes, a 1976 Kawasaki 900 LDT and a 1969 Honda CL 175K3 for him and a 1974 Suzuki TS250 for me. The 1969 Bridgestone proved more than we could handle last summer because the parts were impossible to get. Despite the other bikes, the Katana and the Turbo remained our favorites.
So, we'd come back from riding and I'd mentioned wanting a newer model Italian motorcycle.
"Italian?" he'd scoffed. "As if they could make a motorcycle better than Japan."
But once I showed him the specs for the 1997 Ducati ST2, he changed his tune.
"That's a lot of power, Mokuba," he'd frowned. "I'm not sure to could handle it."
I'd rolled my eyes at his unfounded concern. I knew I'd be a hell of a lot safer on that silver powerhouse than I was on my favorite Turbo. Still, it took me six months to convince him of that. When the bike arrived, I spent weeks checking it over and tweaking things here and there until I felt it was worthy of a test run. Seto accompanied me on his Moto Guzzi V7 Ippogrifo, which he'd purchased from the same Italian dealer as my ST2 and worked on alongside me.
I led the way on my silver bullet (my nickname for it) and he followed on his V7, which he'd had customized with a Blue Eyes Shining Dragon. That first run, I bonded with this mighty machine. Now, I use it to go just about everywhere in all kinds of weather.
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
I pull up in front of Jou and Mai's and park the bike, turning on the highly sophisticated alarm system Seto designed personally. Taking off my helmet, I pull the headphones from my ears, stuffing them in my jeans' pocket along with my MP3 player. I shake my head wildly a few times to get rid of my 'helmet hair' before knocking on the door. When it swings open after a few moments, I nearly fall over with surprise.
"Y-Yugi," I stutter in disbelief. He smiles that same bright smile I remember from two years ago; the last time I'd seen him in person. A matching smile splits my face. Carefully placing my helmet on the carpeted floor, I fling my arms around him with joy.
"Oh, man! I can't believe you're here! When did you get back? Are you staying?" I nearly knock him over with my enthusiasm. Actually, I do knock him over as I find us tumbling over an ottoman in the living room. Laughter erupts around us and I rub my head sheepishly. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch site of the former Dungeon Dice Master.
"Otogi!" I exclaim. "You're here too? Wow! This is great! Excellent surprise, Jou! I would never have figured this out in a million years."
"And that's not all." A warm tenor accompanies the arms helping me up from the floor.
No. No way.
I slowly turn and lock eyes with the game king. I can't believe…He looks so different, yet exactly as I remember him. Crimson eyes capture his sincere smile, blonde bangs dangling playfully, his duskier complexion serving to further accent his eyes and hair. I can tell he's grown a few more inches, though he's still shorter than me and Nii-sama will still tower over him.
"Y-Yami," I whisper, suddenly feeling very wrong for being here without Seto. This should be Seto's moment; his moment to see the rival he's missed so much. With Yami gone, Seto stopped dueling; even with me. He locked his deck away and abandoned the duel dome. That's also when he started working more and smiling less. And getting old. Yami made Nii-sama's world go around, though he'd never admit it. Despite my intention to be happy about seeing Yami, my face falls, along with the first of many tears.
What my brother has lost…
And I don't know how to get it back for him. They all left him. They turned away. Even Yami, who I know understood Nii-sama better than anyone but me.
And here I am, standing with these traitors, so glad to see the biggest traitor of them all that I can't speak.
"Mokuba?" Yami ventures, pulling me into his arms. I lean down, placing my forehead on his shoulder as the sobs overtake me. I'm not crying for myself, not really. It's for all the pain Nii-sama has stuffed behind his cold, plastic façade. It's for the countless times I've seen him swallow a sigh of discontent. It's for the lost and empty look that frequently invades his eyes. It's for the late nights he sits in his study drinking and chain-smoking when he thinks I've gone to bed and don't know of his despair. It's for his acute loneliness that has swelled to even greater proportions in the last few months as my date of departure for college draws nearer.
No, there are no tears for myself.
Unless they're tears of joy.
Now that Yami's back, maybe my Nii-sama will return too.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I'd expected an array of responses, but definitely not this. Mokuba's distraught form leans against me, silent sobs wracking his frame. He's gotten a lot taller since I saw him five years ago, and filled out some, but his wild black hair and blue-grey eyes remain as I remember them.
Carefully I steer him toward the sofa, meaning to give him (and me!) a better position for him to share whatever sorrow has enveloped him. Abruptly, he pulls away, scrubbing the tears from his face.
"S-sorry, Yami," he chokes. "It's just so good to see you."
I don't believe him for a minute, but I'll play along for now.
"I understand. I'm glad to see you too."
He smiles brightly, the genuine emotion banishing the unexplained sorrow from his face.
"So, are you back for good, Yami?"
"Yes. I'll be staying with Jou and Mai until I get a new job and find an apartment."
His smile droops a little and he turns to Yugi.
"So, you and Otogi aren't staying, Yugi?"
"No, we're just visiting for a while. Otogi's flying back next Tuesday, but I'll be here for another month. Yami and I still have to go see jii-chan."
I watch as Mokuba slides effortlessly into 'just hanging with my friends' mode. He's almost as good at hiding his emotions as Kaiba when he wants to.
Kaiba. I wonder how he's doing. His absence and Mokuba pointedly not mentioning it, proves that they're still shunning him. It's been five years; they should have gotten over it by now.
It angered me when I discovered how my friends had shut Kaiba out and made me part of their pact to do so, unknowingly. I barely spoke to any of them, even my aibou, for about a month.
Though I'd turned from him Graduation Day as well, my intent to teach him a lesson only extended as far as the next morning. I'd risen with plans to call and find out when and where we'd be meeting for our planned celebratory lunch, only to find that his phone had been blocked. I couldn't get him from my cell, Yugi's cell or the house phone. When I tried e-mailing him, my mails bounced back. He'd even de-friended me on Live Journal!
After a few days of that, I decided I'd had enough and would go talk to him face to face. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd blocked my calls because he was mad at me, and I'd just gone and talked to him and things went back to normal. I expected that time to be no different, though I should have suspected something because he'd never de-friended me before.
Upon arriving at Kaiba Corp., I casually made my way to the elevator and keyed in his personal code for access to his floor. Besides Seto, only Mokuba and I had it. Imagine my surprise when, not only didn't it work, but it also set off an alarm and I was unceremoniously ushered from the building. Stunned, I sat on the ground for a while before trying his cell and private office lines. Both gave me the same 'Calls are not being accepted from this number' recording that I got from his home phone. At a loss, I went home. Once my head cleared a little, I tried Mokuba's cell. He'd had no idea Kaiba had blocked me and promised to set things right.
That night, Mokuba came out with us for arcade night. Actually, that's when I should have suspected a deeper conspiracy. Previously, we'd always picked up Mokuba from home. For some reason, Yugi insisted he meet us there and we'd drop him off later. That became the pattern for every event Mokuba participated in with us, well except for Jou and Mai's engagement/graduation party.
A limo dropped Mokuba off, but Kaiba wasn't with him.
"Mokuba, where's Kaiba," I'd asked. A slightly guilty look crossed his face before he answered.
"Umm, well he didn't think he was invited."
"Of course he was invited," I'd protested. "Why would he think that?"
"Because Yugi only gave me one invitation."
Shocked, I'd turned to my aibou for confirmation. A determined look set on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, head held high. I couldn't believe it.
"I tried to convince him that he should come," Mokuba continued, "but he said he understood and walked away."
/Why/
/We were tired of his crap, Yami./
/That's it/
/That's enough./
Blind fury threatened to overtake me, but I held it in check. I wouldn't do that in front of Mokuba and I wouldn't ruin Jou and Mai's moment. I decided to confront them later about it. In the meantime, I would try to talk to Seto.
Attempting to put that part of my plan into action, I rode home with Mokuba after the party. I never made it out of the limo.
"But he's my friend!" Mokuba had protested when the driver explained I wasn't allowed on the premises.
"I'm sorry, Master Mokuba, but Mr. Kaiba specifically gave instruction not to allow Yugi nor any of his cohorts access to any Kaiba Corp. property.
"Cohorts!" I'd exclaimed. "I'm his friend!"
"Regardless, I cannot allow you into the house. As it is, you should not even be in this car. I will take you back to the house where I found you now," he retorted, slamming the door in my face. I could hear Mokuba's protests as we drove away.
Several days later, Mokuba called me on my cell and apologized profusely. I made sure he understood that I didn't blame him at all and we promised to meet up later and talk.
Unfortunately, the party would be the last time I saw him as Yugi's need for my assistance while he got ready for college overwhelmed everything else. I'd needed to get some things together too since I'd be spending a year with him before going to Egypt for the dig. Things between us were strained because of what had happened with Kaiba, but I couldn't abandon him when he needed me. He was still my aibou.
Pulling myself from the still disturbing memories, I allow the others' joy of being together again infect me. It's easily 2:30 in the morning before we all wind down. I insist that Mokuba stay the night as he can barely stand up let alone ride home.
"Besides," I cajole, "how could I get a taste of that machine's power if I'm too sleepy to enjoy it?"
He relents, promising a 'sinus-clearing ride' in the morning. Somehow, that didn't sound too appealing.