---Hospital Ward---
The screen on a TV had flicked on to the performance that Duelist Academy had put on.
Syrus stood there in his Russian military uniform beside a dying Bastion. Syrus was portraying Greg Swarthout and Bastion was Yanjing Swarthout, brothers.
"My dearest brother, I have failed to keep my promise," Bastion was saying. "I wish I could take back all the things I had ever said to make you cry. Dear brother, will you smile and be a kind person once more and show me life? Please, drown out the war around you and take into your heart how beautiful your soul is."
"My brother. My dying older brother!" Syrus was crying out. "I cannot let you die before me so! You are my sheild and my mentor! Do not leave me here alone! Let me see you shine as my elder time and again! Do not die for the sake of me! My life is nothing!"
"Alas, you have a love of your life, but I have nothing! Not even an honest life to leave behind. Run me through with that blade there. The one that lays not to far from your hand."
Syrus stood, abandoning Bastion on the ground. "But you are my brother! No matter the cost! I will risk my own life for the life of my brother. I shan't make you cry my name in sorrow! I shan't make you cry in my name. I will die by your hand before I have you die by my hand! I love you, brother dearest!" Syrus held his fist up to the sky. "You are my brother, my beloved brother, my only brother! You are my other half that shan't die by my hand or by the hand of another!"
"Then perhaps you should just shoot me..." Bastion rolled off the stage. "Because I am your brother! You should listen to me more! You mean a lot more than a lousy war to me!" He pounded his fist on the wooden planks of the stage. "You 'shan't' be the one to die! I am dying! Have you no mercey, you heartless brother!"
"But... you are not dead? You walk?"
Bastion gave a groan. "I DON'T CARE IF I LOOK LIKE I'M ALIVE OR DEAD! I AM YOUR BROTHER! BOW DOWN AND OBEY--!" He fell over as Syrus fired the gun at Bastion's head.
"Rest peacefully, for I shan't be alone like this!" Syrus raised the gun to his head. "Farewell, betraying, cruel world. I will fall beside my crazy brother that you sent to war and you sent to his death. I will never forgive those who drove him to this madness! But he is my blood-relation, I cannot let him stand alone. I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU DO WITH ME! BUT DO NOT LET MY BROTHER LIVE IN THY DARKNESS ALONE WITHOUT A HEART OF PURITY!"
The gun goes off and Syrus falls to his knees and then lays dead on the wood. In walks Alexis and reads; "My Brother, by Kaiba, Mokuba." She cleared her throat.
My Brother
Although you hate me,
And I think I hate you,
You can see what I don't see,
And I know you,
Even if you think I don't,
You are my flesh and blood,
We are together in this mess,
We have faught in blood,
Bound together in this mess,
Together, we are one,
You're still my brother,
If you like it or not,
Weather you wanted to bother,
Like you won't,
My beloved brother
"This play has been performed by Duelist Academy's students. This theme is for the Kaiba Brothers, Mokuba and Seto. We honor what you have both done for us! We wish there was a way to give back what you've given all of us!" Alexis, Bastion, and Syrus said in unison, bowing lightly.
The TV clicked off and Mokuba stared. He slumped down and started screaming, his hands over his ears, his eyes wide with fright, glazed with his soul's true feelings, his body shaking. Those words he wrote on a napkin came back to bite him at the worst times and the even worser states of mind he was usually in. He screamed even louder when he heard Syrus's words echoed in his head, how he killed his brother to save his brother from insanity... did he have to kill the person he loved more than anything to save him? But he wasn't that strong! He couldn't kill his brother for that kind of thing!
Kaiba fell to his knees before Mokuba and reached up, slowly, hesitantly, shaking, wrapped his arms around his frightened brother, gently kissing the crown of the boy's head. His tears fell like rain falls on a rainy day. He didn't see his brother so hurt, so he didn't want to see him hurt anymore. He didn't mean it... well, most of what he'd done he didn't mean...
Seto stared at the TV. "It's unplugged?"
"Yup." Mokie held up the plug with his clean hand while his blood arm was being tended by Seto. "See? All gone! No power! It was unplugged, which is why it made me squal. I thought it was kinda cool to see a TV that turned on without power. Hee hee!" Mokie suddenly whimpred. "Wah! That hurt, big brother." He sniffed.
"Sorry." Seto jabbed Mokuba in the arm. "You, come here. Lemme see that wound."
"Wound?" Mokuba looked and saw that he had a twisted wrist and saw the blood dripping from it, the skin stretched enough to allow blood through. "Ah, I guess so." He scratched his head.
(a/n: not done yet, but i keep thinking of making this a short story one... not to mention i'm a gonna do some short stories later... if i can acctually do that... anyhow, thanks for reading chapter four: Dearest Brother)