This story is officially updated. With Chapter 2! There you go. I feel strong about this story now that the first chapter is out there…(sighs in relief)…It makes me feel better to know that I have support, I guess. Good news: Katsuya arrives in this chapter! A lot of people wondered how he was going to fit in here, find out. Hope you like it!

Oh my god…I was not expecting to get that many reviews…omg…you guys are so awesome! Thank you so much for those reviews…I can't tell you how much it means to me…thanks so much! I know this story is a little unbelievable, thanks for reading anyway. (hugs everyone)

Important Notice: has suddenly sprung this rule on us that we are not allowed to respond to our reviewers anymore. I don't know why, but I'm really upset…I still want to talk to you guys, though! So if you could just drop your e-mail in the review it would make things much easier for me…(or I can hunt you down…lol). Thanks guys, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience!

Warning: This story contains homosexuality, yaoi, and some scenes that may be inappropriate for people underage. Please don't read if you're too young/immature! PLEASE!

Disclaimer: I don't own YGO or any of the car mentioning I put in here…(yes, I'm really an anime creator and car dealer in disguise! Bwuahahaha!)

Chapter Two: Mistakes

Oh, the terror of waking from a drug-induced sleep. My alarm clock blasted me awake at 6:30 in the morning, which gave me a surprising large amount of sleep—nearly three hours, (that's a lot considering my stressful state).

I remember transgressing from the black cloudiness of the sleeping pills with the sound of an earsplitting drum in the distance. At first I thought it was my heart, beating so fast and so loud in my chest that I was going to throw it up any time soon, but then my eyes cleared and I awoke to my senses, staring at the immaculately white ceiling.

Immediately, a head-ache hit me. It was nothing new, however.

Squinting, and massaging my temples I leaned over the dresser and deactivated the thudding clock. For those few seconds just out of sleep, I thought that everything was fine. I forgot that my company was near death by strangulation of money sources and the desperation coursing through my life. I prepared to simply walk into Mokuba's room and wake him for another day of school and of substantial but easy work…

Then I looked back up at the ceiling. It was white…so white…my stomach flipped…what was wrong with the white? It was so unbearable…

Suddenly the memories of the night before slithered through my mind like soiled electricity, jolting back all the previous emotions. I threw myself off the mattress and ran into the adjoining bathroom, expecting to vomit.

I reached the toilet in time to catch a dry retch escaping with one silvery strand of saliva but no stomach contents. I had used those up previously, I suppose.

I was kneeling in front of the thing, hands gripping the shaggy rug beneath me. The rug was a light beige color; it sort of matched the walls of crystalline white, but not entirely.

I held my head, trying to suppress the pain in it. All this white….it hurt my damn eyes it was so white. The white was a reminder of all that was unclean about me. All that I had done and would continue to do in deep but useless hopes to re-attain my old, stable life.

Shower. I gripped the edge of the sink that hovered dangerously just above my head. I needed to shower and wash away this filth.

Pulling myself up on rubbery legs, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I looked exactly the same as I always had. Thick but brittle brownish hair; blue eyes to match the clearest sea or the perfect sky; steady, angular lines for jaw and cheekbone structures; slightly imperfect nose from where it had broken time again over the years of my life; lean, slim neck and black shoulders, (covered by my shirt); skin bleached the color of pale manila from long hours of staring at a computer screen. Same as always.

But something…something was different. What…

This was nonsense. Nothing could possibly be different. Just because I had had unwanted sex with an old man the night before certainly did not mean that I was any different. My feelings of filthiness were perfectly natural considering I hadn't had a shower in over a day.

Yet that wasn't true…I had just taken a shower yesterday evening before my flight to Nagasaki.

It mattered not. I had gotten a little dirty on the floor of Toshokama's office, I was certain he didn't regularly clean that rug, it smelled of stale leather and old cigar smoke that seeped in from his endless drags. So of course I would be a little bit grimy…of course.

If you have to know, I'm not really an emotional kind of guy. The last of my "touchy-feely" Motou Yugi-like emotions died along with my stepfather. It is pure foolishness to think that such a small act would spark such a great reaction in me.

But it did…

Viciously, I shook my head to rid it of the stupidity. I had not the time to linger on such trivialities. There simply was no time left anymore.

So, I yanked off my clothes and wrenched the shower's knobs into life. No cold water for me today. I didn't need it. Heat. That's all that could pass. Scorching heat with steam bouncing off the walls of the bathroom. That was more than enough.

As soon as the water, (or liquid fire, I might say), touched my skin, the lungs in my chest gasped deeply for more air. That was damn hot.

Fitting, don't you think? The strong part of my mind asked. For the whore to get burned?

My weaker side trembled at these words. They were true…all too true. This was basically what I deserved. To burn out the shame, physically, as they used to do in medieval times, burn their unruly prostitutes.

The water rolled down my flesh, leaving trails of screaming pain in their wake. I ignored it. All in all, it overshadowed the pain in my head, in the large, dark bruise on my back, and in my sore rectum. That was a blessing.

The wash cloth I had with me scrubbed my skin trying to get the dirt off.

What dirt? A new, inquisitive, logical side of my mind asked. There's no dirt there…

Yes there is! The strong side retaliated. It is there, underneath the skin, in your very soul, Seto Kaiba.

So I scrubbed and I scrubbed. But I never felt clean. Even after I deemed myself finished, with patches of blood appearing after scraping raw, burned skin. I still felt filthy. But like I already said…the dirt was in my soul.

I dressed myself according to protocol of my reputation. Black trench coat, black turtle neck, and a pair of black pants. I couldn't stand to look at the white of that other coat I wore to Battle City. It was so gaudy, anyway. I didn't like it anymore.

Fully dressed, with briefcase in hand, (the money clasp was officially invested in the Kaiba Corp. data base, although I would have to stop and put the measly $6,000 in the bank on my way to work), I left my bedroom and descended the stairs, slowly, trying not to reopen the bloodied, raw marks on my legs, or irritate my already irritated ass.

What would I say to Mokuba? He would be asking questions about the "meeting" from last night, and what would I say? Could I really pretend that everything was fine? That was becoming so hard to do…

But I would handle it. Just like every other problem I had overcome in my life, this was no exception. The rest of the stairs passed quickly and before I knew it, I was staring into the blinding gleam of my kitchen.

The kitchen was full of glass cabinets and various metallic appliances. In the morning sun, the shine of everything is seriously dangerous to the eyes. One must either be careful or wear a pair of sunglasses.

After shielding my vision with a hand hovering next to my eyebrows, I was able to spot Mokuba sitting the table, away from the sunlight, munching on a waffle with his legs swinging innocently under the table.

"Ohayō, Seto!" (Good Morning) He called, mouth full of masticated waffle, but face bright and cheery.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Mokuba," I grunted in return, pretending I was immune to his cuteness.

He swallowed loudly. "Ohayō, Seto."

"Konnichiwa, Otōto." (Hello, Little Brother.) I ambled over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup of black coffee, steaming hot, just like the shower.

"I missed you last night, Nii-sama." He took another bite of the waffle, eyes wide in sincerity.

My gaze softened as it turned to his. He could melt my heart with those eyes. Forging indifference, I sipped my coffee, (damn hot, but the taste was exquisite), and replied, "I missed you, too, Mokuba."

Disbelief showed on his face. "Really?"

"Of course." Naturally, I had never—or rarely—told my brother this, but ever since the company had started descending the monetary ladder, I began revising my behavior toward him, trying to let him know exactly what he meant to me. I felt…like time was running out for some reason.

Mokuba finished the rest of his waffle in practically one bite and said, "Can you walk me to school today, Seto?"

I shook my head. "Gomen. I have too much work to do."

He sighed exasperatedly. "But you always have too much work to do!"

"Well, I am a CEO…" I hated where this conversation was going, why I never had time to walk him places anymore. Mokuba hated the limousine. He looked forward to our walks more than anything. But my company needed me so badly right now…there was no way.

"But Seeetooo…onegai?"

I laid the coffee cup on the counter and kneeled down next to my brother. I shifted him into a slow but sure hug and said, "Gomen nasai. Gomen nasai."

"Wha…Seto?" Mokuba asked. God. How long had it been since we last hugged like this? "It's…it's not that big of a deal…" He thought I was only sorry for the walk? If only…well, it was better that way, I guess.

"I know," I said, and pulled back from the hug with love in my eyes, as much love as I could muster.

Mokuba looked happy, but confused at my actions. We never really touched each other. A pat on the back here, a high five now and then, but anything other than that—like if we accidentally brushed each other in the house or at my office—we said, "Gomen," and moved on. Why was that? Hugging Mokuba felt good, it was a shelter or solace in my world of cruelty. Why had I not relished in the hugs before?

Yet, at the end of the hug, one thing remained in my mind: Guilt. It washed over my soul. Guilt for lying to Mokuba all the time. Guilt for being such a horrible brother. Guilt for giving him this life that had everything but what he wanted most—a family. Guilt for what I did. Guilt for what I would do. Guilt for the past. Guilt for the present. Guilt for the future. Guilt. Guilt.

I scurried away quickly with this guilt, trying not to let him see it. I wanted to hide this guilt, bury it in a hole inside of me and never speak of it again. That's what I would do.

Well, that was to be our last hug for a while…I was not fit to touch him with my impurity. Anyone else's touch would be repulsive…touching could be good, but only for good people.

"I…have to go to work, now, Mokuba. And after that I'll be at school. You have my cell phone number if anything comes up." The usual "going to work" speech. He'd heard it all before.

"Hai, Seto…have a good day?" He said it like a question, with a question on his face and everything.

I nodded. No, it will not be a good day. But, it will for you. It won't but it will because life is ambiguous like that.

With nothing more to say, I was off, briefcase in hand.

I liked to walk to my building, see people, see things, sometimes get noticed by crazed fans. I liked getting the exercise that my body needed, I didn't eat much so I wasn't fat but I still needed exercise to be healthy. I had long ago given up the martial arts. My stepfather had been obsessed with teaching it to me, and that he had done, but it was never really my thing. I could kill someone with the knowledge I possessed in the art, though I would only do so in desperate measures. I had only killed one person in my entire life—Gozaburo Kaiba himself. I can only think of him as the one person in the world worth killing.

But that day was not at all a day for walking. It was way too painful.

However, Nakamura—being my one and only limousine driver—needed to take Mokuba to school at the same time I needed to go to work. So I was forced to drive myself.

Once upon a time I owned thirty different cars, each one a classic in its year since 1970. Now, twenty of those cars had been sold, with all proceeds going to, of course, Kaiba Corporation. I only had ten left, and they were alright, but not at all the usual style you might assume.

That day, I chose to drive a 1997 Sebring Convertible in the color of burgundy with a black soft top. American car. Very expensive. One day soon I would have to sell this beauty…I thought this would very well be my last time riding it…

I hoped into the front, beige leather interior—(A/N: Eww, leather!)—and started the engine promptly. It roared to life and I rolled out of my large, (yet most recently quite empty), garage and onto the Domino Streets. The ride to the towering, glass building of Kaiba Corp. was relatively short with no activity except for the occasional red light here and there. But I'm told that's normal.

It felt weird entering my building these days. Previously I had felt strong and liberated being in that grand old place. The overall mood was different now. I had a lot less employees, most of them left with the downfall of the company, trying to go find work that would pay them better than I could. I still had a few die-hards, but they were just not the same. The place looked…dead. I hate saying it, even though it's true. Everything about it reeked of death. It was dying, after all…

Thankfully, the elevator still worked. I rode it up to the very top floor and walked onto the floor, practically deserted. This floor, (the 95th floor), only held my office and the office of my vice president, Ichigata. Thus, it was quite quiet up there.

I found Ichigata rummaging through the papers in his file cabinet when I knocked on the door. I made sure to stand extremely tall when I addressed him, so as not to make him suspicious.

He turned to me abruptly; it appeared I had startled him out of something. No matter. Ichigata was a generally nervous man. He had short jet black hair, old, frail skin, an average weight but surprisingly small height (about 5' 1" I could guess), and circular, thick glasses that wobbled if he turned his head too fast. The usual nerd CEOs received for their VP. But Ichigata proved useful in the tough situations, so I didn't mind him at all. In fact, I was grateful for him.

He steadied his glasses and said in his unconfident but not weak voice, "Ohayō gozaimasu, Kaiba-sama. Has anything come up?" We often asked each other this question first thing in the morning, to see if a solution or a new found problem had entered the equation.

"The $6,000 from last night, but other than that…" I sighed. "How about you?"

He looked down and said, "Well, there was that meeting last night…but as you said…" It seemed the word "nothing" was a fearful thing. Neither of us wanted to use it.

I nodded. Conversation made no sense with people both lacking a reason to talk. We both knew there was nothing either of us could do. Why did we pretend that each day something new and exciting would come up?

We stood there a moment longer saying nothing, him coughing a little, the briefcase shifting in my hand. "Well," I said loudly, again he was startled. "I have to leave for school at 7:00, so if there's anything you need me for, I only have 15 minutes."

"Iie, there is nothing."

"I'll be in my office, then." Promptly, I turned away from this sorry situation and walked into my own, more spacious office with a slight greeting to my middle aged and frequently depressed secretary Yusume. She was about 40 and always wore something fancy to work, like a silk kimono with intricate floral patterns or something. I didn't know why. A suit and tie would have been fine with me.

The wall-length window of my office greeted my in return. I loved this window. I could spy on all of Domino almost 100-stories away from all the people. Everything looked so insignificant from that high up. That very window was also the killing factor of my hated stepfather. It was like a friend to me, a best friend. But that's stupid…it's just a piece of glass, (fairly large piece of glass, but still).

The rest of my office held nothing to speak of, really.

I spent the 15 minutes just checking over everything, making sure everything was just as bad as before, no more or less. My overall stock value had gone down $2.00 since the night before, to $42. I sighed. But at least it wasn't in the negatives yet. If that happened then it meant that I was actually spending more money putting into my company than I was getting out of it. And that meant that you should just drop it and move on with your life. But I was not there yet.

At exactly 7:00 on the dot, I fled the scene and sped illegally all the way to my high school, (oh the horse power of a convertible). I couldn't wait to get out of that nightmare and forget about work for a moment. That was really the only reason I went to school.

As usual I was there just after all the teachers got there. Some kids got in before I did, but usually it was just me and a few early risers at this time in the morning.

I went into first period class and sat at the desk staring into nothing as kids passed by me, whispering. More and more came in. More and more whispers. About me? Maybe. Who cared? People talked, it was my reputation that was all I cared about.

I remained passive until the usual time: 5 second before Late Bell when Yugi and his friendship groupies arrived. Familiar hate bubbled up in me as I saw those triangle-shaped spikes of three colors…and those ignorant purple eyes twisted in laughter of some idiotic humor passed by one of his religious followers. That was what they were. Religious followers, afraid to step out of line from his Divine Rule.

And of course, the mutt…a different kind of anger entered me when I saw that mongrel. I loved hating Jonouchi Katsuya. He was so…easy to hate. He never cleaned up for anything, he always wore practically rags of our school uniform, and his hair looked like a creature separate from his body, its own living entity. Last but not least, his American accent and mannerisms. He acted like a street punk and talked like one. He was…uncultured and exactly the opposite of everything I was exposed to day in and day out.

But there was something…different…about Jonouchi that I couldn't exactly place. When I taunted him—which I never missed the opportunity to do—and saw him get angry, I always felt a little better and a little worse. The better part was easy to explain, I hated him, after all. But the worse factor…I had no explanation for. It made no logical sense, and yet, I didn't mind it that much. Because, I mean, of course he was attractive, anyone would admit that…

What the hell is that kind of thinking getting me? Sure, Jonouchi was attractive physically maybe, (yes, I'm gay, any questions?), but his mannerisms totally over-shadowed that. And his annoying, hateful ways…right? Of course. I nodded to myself in silent agreement.

Of course, it was just my luck that all four of the cretins had to be in my first period class. I had to start my day in Health class with all of them. Why did we even have to take a health class? I honestly didn't know, it was just a stupid idea. They didn't teach us anything useful, anyway, and half the kids were too immature for it. If only it didn't make the difference between graduating and becoming a super-senior…

So I sat there with my chin resting in my hand and pretended not to hear them talking until the bell rang and our teacher, Kensui-san clapped his hands to get our attention. "Alright, ohayō gozaimasu, class,"—how many times had I heard this so far that day?—"we'll get right down to business. Does anyone know where we left off yesterday?"

Yugi raised his hand energetically, apparently the only kid awake in the whole class so far, as usual. "Go ahead, Motou," Sensei said, always happy to receive a student that actually paid attention.

"We were discussing how the lining of the uterus thickens and then recedes when a woman menstruates, Sensei." Had he no shame? Was he deaf to the bundles of giggles that erupted from every single girl in the class? Was he just a suck-up? I shook my head. He was such an embarrassment.

Kensui silenced the giggles. "That's exactly right, Motou," he beamed. "Let us continue this discussion with what results from this receding…"

Yugi raised his hand and waved it in the air hopefully. But this time, probably to the extreme pain of Kensui, the teacher ignored him. "Anyone else?" He scoped the class with his enormous bat-like eyes, the middle-aged fat in his gut shifting along with his gaze. How did he do that?

No else raised their hand, so once again he was forced to desperate measures: Pick someone out that looks like they have some clue of what's going on. Everyone duck into their seats.

The one girl that remained upright in her seat doodling in her notebook and having no clue what was going on, (a girl name Yamagatchi who dressed awkwardly and was constantly picked on by the others because she was frequently spacing out on everyone), was chosen as today's victim.

"Yamagatchi, I'm sure you know, what happens as a result of this receding of the uterus?"

She threw her head up from her drawing and said, "Uh…um…a baby?"

This time the whole class erupted with laughter. I shook my head again. This was such a waste of time. Perhaps I could get away with slipping out my laptop and rummaging through the files for a new way of revival…but I had done that already…

The teacher sighed. "Iie, Yamagatchi. Of course not. That is an entirely different matter, child birth! Let's go over it again, shall we?" He turned his back and went to write on the board, talking about the topic all the way.

As if on cue, the entire student body in Health II Period 1 went to passing notes from right to left, back to forward, forward to back, throwing paper balls at each other, and whispering the latest gossip. I remained sitting there staring at my desk, trying to decide if it was worth it to check my laptop again…

Well it would be if you found a way…then everything would be worth it, wouldn't it? One side.

Who is to say if I will…I haven't after months and months of searching, why would I now? Another.

Well—

Suddenly a paper ball landed on my desk. I nearly jumped in alarm. (Fortunately I controlled myself at the last second.)

Angry, I scanned the room for a culprit, but the teacher had turned back around and all were at attention. So, instead, I picked up the ball and unwrinkled it to decode the message given to me.

It was a picture. The drawing was extremely sloppy, but it was obvious what it portrayed.

Apparently, it was me wearing the outfit of a groom and holding a computer in my hands with the computer wearing a bridal veil and, oddly enough, myself kissing the computer screen in front of a roughly sketched parsonage. Underneath the drawing, it was written in childish hand writing: "Seto Kaiba's Wedding Day".

I stared at the picture. Was this meant to be insulting? Seriously? I actually smirked at the childishness of it. I looked up to see if anyone was partaking in their "victory", but the teacher was still facing us.

Oh well. The drawer could have been anyone. And I really didn't care. I had so many better things to do with my life than worry about the juvenile teasing of a class full of demented teenagers. I re-wrinkled the paper and grasped the ball in my hand tightly until the end of class rolled around. On my way out, (always the last one after everyone jumped up and sped out one second after the bell), I dropped it in the garbage pail unceremoniously.

I swam my way through the hallways, people talking, people at lockers, people kissing, people fighting, papers littering the floors, and the over-all state of disarray you find in any high school. It was all so monotonous, so pointless. Half of them would end up in some useless windowless cubicle in places like Toshokama Industries working for a man that made sex-deals with people. That was what the world revolved around anyway: sex.

Second class, third class, fourth class, fifth. Fighting boredom and trying not to concentrate on the battles raging in my mind. Finally, sixth period. That period was mine. My lunch period. I sat with no one at lunch, usually just worked on my laptop and made random calls if I had to. I liked the solitude.

My own table was in the darkest farthest away corner of the lunchroom. I went in and sat down, no lunch bag to speak of so I just pulled out a water bottle and sipped it surreptitiously. I was raised to believe it was wrong to drink and eat in front of people. If you must eat, do it where no one can see you.

I gently pulled the computer notebook out of my briefcase and turned it on, (it ran on batteries so there were no cable modems to connect into). My sad statistics greeted me with a lack of vigor and I was doomed to spend the precious period as always, dangerously near a stroke, staring down the pathetic showing before me.

Seventh period, eighth period…finally, the last bell. Time to go to work and spend the day just as I had spent the lunch period and 15 minutes before school. The worst part about it was that I would be there through the night and the following morning, as well. Doomed.

I stepped into the flooded hallways and sighed. Was this the sole purpose of my existence? Make my way hastily through endless crowds so I can witness my own demise sitting there idly? But I wasn't exactly idle…I was doing all that I could…literally all that I could.

I pushed the glass door of the school open and stepped into the mid-day hot sun burning off the sidewalk. It was early October of senior year, but the weather remained stubbornly hot. I didn't mind it exactly, although I never wore shorts or t-shirts for the thought that they were degrading. The last thing I wanted was to look like a goddamn tourist in my own neighborhood and on my way to work.

I stared into the sky, squinting my eyes. The hazy blue looked faded somehow…it wasn't as intense as it usually was.

Absently, I wondered if there was a God. Christians said that heaven reigned in the sky and could only be achieved when you died and "were with God". So God was in the sky? Then why did they say he was always with you? I didn't know a lot about it, no part of my childhood included religion, but you always wonder. I thought that heaven was an imaginary device created by humans to dilute the horror of death. And that I didn't like. When you die, you die. Why create your own illusion of "heaven"?

But heaven aside, I wondered about God. Did he control everything? He did a horrible job of it. People had freewill…he couldn't possibly think the world would work out with free will as a factor. Even so, if he was the Be All End All, why not give the people who needed it some help? Why not show his Divine Hand?

I wondered what would happen when I died. I didn't often think of death, but the realization of it was better than being shocked when it did happen. Eternal blackness? Eternal sleep? That sounded so nice to a restless mind…

Suddenly I was jolted out of my reverie by a body slamming into mine and an American accent yelling, "Hey, Kaiba, watch where you're going!"

Unfortunately, he had hit the spot where just a few hours earlier Toshokama had stomped on my back. The bruise resounded in my nerves, and I was brought back to the night, his laughter reverberating in my shamed ears, humiliating my already humiliated body.

Hate bubbled up inside of me, an unabridged hate that consumed all thought and all action.

That was where I made my mistake.

Without thinking, driven by pure hatred, I turned on my heel and gave Jonouchi a swift punch on the bridge of his nose.

Blood fell onto the lower half of his face all over his lips, dripping down his chin. The sheer force of it knocked him backwards onto the fall, laying face-up and covering his nose with both hands, as blood gushed through the cracks in his fingers.

Yugi and the other two rushed over as soon as he fell. "Katsuya!" they called.

I stared at Jonouchi, realization dawning in me, of what I had just done. I had lost control—lost thought—for a complete minute. The hatred left my eyes and flew away, to leave my weakened, (the hatred had been my only strength).

I didn't like Jonouchi. But I would never be purposely break his nose. I hadn't meant to…I…

"Guh…" I began.

My sound seemed to jolt him back to reality. He was sitting up in a flash, yelling, "What da hell is ya' problem!" through a muffled, nasally voice.

Yugi and the girl with short brown hair were by his side helping him up, asking if he was ok. Jonouchi ignored them and kept yelling at me. The other boy with the spiked hair was yelling at me, too, but I just kept staring at Jonouchi unable to comprehend what they said. I had never lost control like that before…it didn't feel right.

My fist was still poised in the position it had retreated to after punching him. I gently lowered it, realizing that it smarted in my knuckles where contact had been made.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Kaiba?" The boy with the pointed hair asked.

I stared at him and with one look silenced him—the same look that was known to give employees heart attacks.

I turned to Jonouchi, who was standing thanks to the hands of Yugi and the girl. "Gomen nasai, Jonouchi. It won't happen again."

With that…unwanted bit of conversation out of the way, I turned again and left them all—considerably silenced—for my office.

What had just happened there? I was so confused. Were my emotions really that unruly? Damn them. Damn the feelings…they annoyed me to no end, always getting in the way…

I hoped that Jonouchi didn't have a broken nose. Then he would never forgive me. Not that I really wanted forgiveness, it was just that I wanted the situation to be erased from memory. It was easy to do that when your thoughts were in your own head, but when they actually happened it was harder to make people forget.

I cursed the day one thousand times before reaching the office.

I sighed and place my laptop on the desk. One more day to wait out destruction.

I could practically see it. Looming in the distance, so close, almost on top of me…even when I closed my eyes.

A/N: Ok…did this chapter totally suck? Please tell me it didn't…I hope not…I don't know if I wrote it right…(sigh). Well, I tried my best. Anyway, I didn't mean to offend anyone by writing that thing about God and everything…I just honestly think that Seto would believe that if he were in this position. And as a further note, my high school only has eight periods so if anyone was confused by that…there you go.

Did anyone notice that Seto thinks about his company a lot? Yes, you were supposed to believe that. He does! It's like his life. And besides, failure resounds ore loudly in the mind than success, I'm told. Thus.

Once again, sorry about the response to all my reviewers…be sure to include your e-mail in the review if you want me to e-mail you! I don't want to impose on anyone, and those of you that chose to remain "Anonymous", please speak up! Thanks everyone!