Chapter 18: Choices

When Seto stepped into the room, the staff bowed their heads respectfully, and the lead doctor addressed him.

"Mr. Kaiba, the patient is stable and uninjured. There appears to have been some miscommunication about her injuries."

"So I heard," Seto said quietly. He moved to the side of the table, but it didn't take more than a glance to see that Yuugi's report had been true—Yori had her eyes open, watching the doctor currently taking her blood pressure, and there was no indication she'd been hurt at all.

When he moved to her side, she looked up at him. Her eyes seemed a little hazy, a little empty of their usual vibrancy.

The doctor taking her blood pressure gave a report and unstrapped Yori's arm, moving back to give Seto more room. As she stepped away, she confirmed, "Her vitals are all fine."

Seto nodded acknowledgement, but he kept his eyes on Yori's.

"You're okay?" he finally asked.

He could still see Marik—

Her shoulders rose in the smallest shrug.

Seto turned to the doctors. "Thank you for responding promptly. You can return to your other patient."

He didn't miss the glance they all shared; he was well aware that bringing doctors had been protocol for emergencies, nothing more, yet they'd now dealt with four collapses in the semi-finals alone.

One by one, they disappeared out the door.

The only sound in the room was the faraway hum of the lights.

"I should have stopped this after the dock," Seto finally said. His throat itched.

Yori took a long, slow inhale.

"If I remember," she said, and though her voice was quiet, it wasn't hoarse, "you were busy rushing me to the hospital. You have this funny habit of getting me medical attention right away."

"At the hospital . . ." Seto hesitated, but he was already in, and she was already looking at him, waiting. "The nurse said you have scars from a collapsed-lung surgery. Was it . . . ?"

"You saw." Though it was almost imperceptible, she winced. Looked away. "Everyone saw."

He could also see her cobra scar, since the doctors had removed her jacket—Yuugi's jacket, he corrected himself. That exchange during the first duel hadn't escaped his notice. Neither had the way Yuugi had carried her to the med bay, holding her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Seto cleared his throat. He almost said, "At least you didn't get stabbed again today," which would have been the most asinine thing to ever leave his mouth.

Instead, he said, "If I could disqualify Marik, I would."

He didn't go into details, couldn't have explained all the nuances even if he tried, but he felt like he owed her something.

She could have called him out on being tournament officiator, but she didn't.

"It wouldn't stop him anyway," she said. "At least with the tournament, there's some structure."

"'If you're in the tiger's cage, at least you know where the bars are.'" Seto shook his head. "Gozaburo used to say it, and I thought it was nonsense. Now I understand."

Yori suddenly caught her breath like she was in pain, pressing one hand to her head.

"What is it?" Seto glanced at the door, ready to call for a doctor.

But she relaxed and lowered her arm. "Just a headache."

Even if she hadn't been stabbed, she'd still taken on the full attack of a god card. Seto gave a relieved sigh.

"Thanks for worrying, though."

No one had ever thanked him for worrying before. He wasn't sure he ever had worried over anyone except Mokuba.

Yori shifted on the table, raising herself onto her elbows. In the moment before she could sit up on her own, Seto extended his hand.

With a smile, she took it.

He felt a tickle in all his joints simultaneously, as if his entire body were newly alive. Her hand in his seemed to reverse the blood flow in his system, sending everything pounding back into his heart.

His smile matched hers.

She pulled herself upright and took another slow, deep breath, her other hand pressed to her stomach. Seto opened his mouth, but before he could speak—

"Where's Yuugi?" she asked.

Seto dropped her hand and stepped back. His smile disappeared.

"What's wrong? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Seto managed.

She relaxed. "Good. I thought he—I don't know. Things are kind of fuzzy."

He swallowed hard. "You should rest."

She gave him a rueful smile, swinging her legs down from the table. "I think I'll get plenty of rest now that I'm out of the running, wouldn't you say?"

She stood, but then she swayed. Despite himself, Seto was at her side again in a moment, his hands awkwardly raised, ready to support her.

"No, I'm fine. I just—"

Without warning, her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed. Seto barely managed to catch her before her head hit the table.

"Doctor!" he bellowed.

But just as quickly, her eyes were open again.

And a third eye glowed on her forehead.

"Hands off me, priest," she snarled, wrenching herself away from him while he stood frozen, his normally quick mind scrambling to catch up.

The door opened, and Yuugi came rushing in, followed by his fan club.

"Ah, Pharaoh." Yori swept him a grand bow. "Didn't know you'd stooped to keeping company with lowlifes."

Yuugi's shocked stare mirrored Seto's.

"Well, she's actin' very"—Wheeler gulped—"Marik-y, ain't she?"

The lead doctor entered behind them. "What's happened?"

"I don't know." It wasn't a phrase Seto voiced often.

"How far you've fallen, eh?" Yori pushed on, her sharp, glinting eyes locked relentlessly on Yuugi. "Where's your kingdom now? Where's your priceless kingdom now?"

She launched herself at Yuugi, who was apparently too shocked to respond in time. They both went tumbling to the floor. One of the girls shrieked, and Wheeler yelled, "Cut it out, Yori!"

Together, the doctor and Seto grabbed Yori's arms, dragging her off Yuugi. Seto was no weakling, but it took more force than it should have to lift a girl half his size. And the whole time, Yori was screaming and snarling and clawing at Yuugi like a wild animal.

"Fuyumi, get me a sedative!" the doctor shouted.

Yuugi, for his part, lay stunned, his left cheek scratched to the point of blood. His friends got him back on his feet while the doctor and Seto pinned Yori to the table.

The doctor grunted with effort. "Hold her!"

"Does it look like I'm not trying?!" Seto shot back.

"Filthy priest!" Yori shrieked, taking a swing at Seto's face. He grabbed her wrist, still trying to keep her legs pinned with his other arm.

One of the other doctors rushed to the table, loaded syringe in hand. As she moved it toward the girl's shoulder, Yori wrenched her right arm away from the first doctor and grabbed the syringe, shattering it. Liquid splashed across her shirt, and blood and glass showed at the edges of her fist. She laughed, her infected eyes wide and wild.

"Another—" The first doctor's words were cut short as Yori slammed her bloodied fist into his throat. He stumbled back, coughing. Seto had to release her legs to grab both arms, and then she kicked her entire body in the air, launching herself off the table at him. He fell backward, and as his spine hit the hard tile, he lost both his air and his grip.

Yori rolled off him, lunging at Yuugi again. Seto barely managed to twist and catch her leg, dragging her back. He pinned her beneath him.

"Yori!" he said desperately, trying to catch her eyes, trying to find any way to break through.

For just an instant, her eyes locked on his, and he felt a sudden heat in his hands, like instead of holding her wrists, he was holding something he couldn't see. Something powerful. Something dangerous. The ground beneath them disappeared, replaced by familiar carpet. Seto recognized the feel of home and knew if he looked up, he would see the bookcases of Gozaburo's library. From the corner of his eye, he could already see the solid oak desk where he'd spent years slaving, where each tedious project had been one more stepping stone on his path to success.

He swallowed hard, and he didn't look up.

After another moment, the library faded, bringing him back to the airship's med bay.

The glowing eye faded from Yori's forehead. She relaxed beneath him. Her eyelids slid closed. Though he readied himself for another bout of insanity, it never came. Finally, he edged off her and climbed to his feet.

The silence in the room was suffocating. Seto looked to Yuugi, but Yuugi's eyes were locked on Yori's unmoving form.

"Better get her sedated," the doctor croaked, "before it happens again."

"What was that?" Anzu asked, her eyes red-rimmed and wide.

Seto wished he had an answer. He didn't like the certainty in the doctor's words that it would happen again, and he didn't like the certainty in his own mind that the doctor was right.

He lifted Yori—a much easier task than before. Now she felt small and fragile, just like she had on the dock. He settled her on the table, and the doctors prepped another syringe. It wasn't until after they'd administered the sedative that Yuugi spoke, startling everyone.

"Every shadow game has consequences." His voice sounded hollow. The streaked blood on his face looked like war paint. "Forgive me. I must speak with Marik."

He turned and left. His friends hovered, seemingly unsure what to do next.

Seto assumed his CEO voice. "Private quarters were refreshed by my staff during the final duel. If anything is lacking, you can speak to a maid. We'll arrive at our destination in the morning, and the finals will take place immediately after breakfast."

"Will they?" Duke asked harshly. "Will this really continue?"

And Seto wasn't sure.

But he wasn't allowed to not be sure.

So he narrowed his eyes. "I'd suggest everyone find their rooms now."

It was going to be a long night.

Yami found Marik down the hallway where he'd disappeared earlier. The Egyptian was muttering to himself and swinging the Millennium Rod back and forth like a baseball player warming up. As Yami approached, the other man turned abruptly to meet him, holding the rod up like a barrier.

"Don't touch me, Pharaoh, don't—" His words turned to a guttural snarl, and he clutched one hand over his right eye, digging his nails into the skin. For just a moment, that side of his face twisted into a terrified expression, breaking from the left like a prisoner trying to escape.

"Marik?" Yami asked in sudden realization.

Marik lurched forward, right eye bulging wide. "Help m—!"

Then he jerked to the left, stumbled, caught himself on the wall. After a few seconds, his shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled. When he righted himself and stepped away, he was one cohesive Marik again—not the original Marik, but Yami couldn't bring himself to feel much sympathy at the moment.

"Forgive my technical difficulties," Marik said. Yami noted with a small bit of satisfaction that his jaw had already begun to bruise. "When it's worth my time, it seems I'll have to skin a priest."

"Filthy priest!" Yori's voice shrieked in his mind. Yami flinched.

"Kaiba," he whispered. When Ishizu had shown him the ancient tablet with the god monsters, there had been two figures facing off in the center of it. One had been himself. He'd suspected the other looked like Kaiba. Now he was certain.

There were so many mysteries to the past, and every time he turned around, someone new added to the chaos.

Marik's eyes practically sparkled. "Remember that, did you? Or did someone tell you?"

Yami ground his teeth together until he could feel the sound in his skull.

"The heir presumptive to your throne. Too bad that didn't work out for him." Marik giggled. "Now, who could have told you anything about our priest? Could have been stuffy Ishizu. Maybe, maybe. But those tombkeepers, they're such a secretive bunch. More likely it was the little red losing slave."

"So that's the penalty?" Yami kept his voice slow and controlled. "Yori lost, and now you've enslaved her mind."

Marik touched his heart, his face crinkled in humor. "Oh, Pharaoh. I may be half Marik, but I'm not nearly so boring. The little girl's infected. You could say she caught what's going around."

He tapped his own forehead with the Millennium Rod, running it down his face to his chest.

"Who knows," he continued, "how long it will take before the infection roots out all that remains of the original."

The puzzle warmed with heat, and Yami took a steadying breath.

"Upset you, have I?" Marik took a step closer, leering down.

"We're going to have a shadow duel, Marik." Slow and controlled.

"Oh, good, I was hoping we would. But, then, I haven't given you much choice, have I?" Marik extended the rod, pressed the orb of it into Yami's sternum. "You're not in charge anymore, Pharaoh. Now you bow to your subjects."

Yami didn't flinch. "When I win, Yori's penalty is rescinded."

"Setting stakes, are we?" Marik flicked one wing of the rod against Yami's throat, then withdrew it, twirling it in his hand. "Why not play in the dark, let the shadows decide—isn't that your usual method? I've heard things down there. All the whispers." He stared pointedly at the Millennium Puzzle. "Dark pharaoh's darker than ever."

The puzzle pulsed with a faint glow, and Yami felt the warmth in his forehead. He breathed slowly, holding the power at bay. If he began a shadow game in the heat of the moment, he would have no control over it, and Yori would be stuck with her penalty until it played out. Maybe forever, if Marik's threat was to be believed.

From his darkest memory, Yami heard the screams of the death row criminal who'd held Anzu hostage, the man the shadows had burned alive.

He knew firsthand that the shadows could kill.

Under Marik's direction, they would.

Marik's lips twitched. "I could tell you about your past, you know. Wouldn't you like to hear it?"

Yami's heart stuttered.

Marik lowered the rod, smiled invitingly. "That's what you came all this way for, what motivated you through this entire contest: the nameless pharaoh's memories locked away in the Valley of Kings. But I could tell you about your life, Pharaoh. Wouldn't you like to know your father's name? Wouldn't you like to know the age at which you ruled our kingdom?"

Yami struggled to keep his breathing controlled. There was a haze in the room, thick in his ears, thick in his throat.

"Wouldn't you like to know if you had a queen?" Marik pressed on, his voice low and seductive. "Wouldn't you like to know the truth of the Millennium Items?"

The heat from the puzzle was in his blood now, and it whispered with the voice of shadows.

"Leave the girl," Marik said. "I'll tell you. Right now."

Yami swallowed hard.

Slowly and deliberately, he said, "When I win, Yori's penalty is rescinded."

Marik's face twisted.

"Coward!" he hissed. "Hiding for 3,000 years and hiding still. You don't want to know who you are, no. That's why you erased your own name. Erased it from existence. If you couldn't live with the price, Pharaoh, maybe you shouldn't have made the purchase!"

He swung the rod, but Yami leaned away. Marik stumbled, then paced to the wall, muttering to himself, hands twitching. Yami stared down at the puzzle. If Marik's words were true, if he was the nameless pharaoh by choice, had he done it to hide?

Or did he have something to protect?

"Your price is the girl, fine." Marik turned back. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless. No smiles, no tongue, no bulging veins. Just a blank slate, like staring into a headstone that had yet to be carved. "My price is your choice."

Goosebumps crossed Yami's skin. He waited in silence.

"It's a heavy thing to be pharaoh. That's what you always preached, isn't it? A heavy thing to bear so many lives at once. You must weigh the value. Assign it." Marik lifted his palms, held them even, like the baskets of an empty scale. "And then come the choices. Who lives. Who dies."

He raised the palm with the Millennium Rod, lowered the other. His smile returned, as uneven on his face as his hands were in the air.

"You may save the girl's life if you wish, Pharaoh. Or you may save another. But you may only save one." He lowered his hands. "First you have to win, but even if you win, you have to choose."

It wasn't a choice. "Yori."

"Sure." Marik's smile grew, compressed his eyes. "3,000 years ago, she fell to the other side of the scale. Her life weighed too little, and you killed her. As you killed me."

"You're lying," Yami spat. It wasn't possible. There could never be a reality where . . .

It wasn't possible.

"Sure. How's your memory, Pharaoh?"

Yami set his jaw. "Whoever I may have been in the past, I'm different now."

Marik cackled. "Sure. Win the duel, then tell me your choice."

Yami didn't know who he'd been before or what he'd lost. Maybe he was a coward and a tyrant; maybe his current state was punishment. Maybe he'd lived an awful life and regretted it; maybe his current state was penitence.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was a good man, and his current state was a sacrifice.

Whatever the truth was, he didn't know. But he did know what mattered most to him in his current state. What would always matter most.

So with more force than ever, he said, "It will always be Yori."

There was an awkward silence over the whole group as they exited the medical bay. Joey's mind was still reeling; the last time he'd seen something like what happened with Yori was when Marik mind-controlled the Ghoul guy and made him dance like a puppet. But this had been even worse.

"Are you still going to compete in the finals?" Duke asked abruptly.

Joey blinked. "Well, I'm a finalist, ain't I?"

"If I were still in, I'd pull out. Unless you want to be the next person wheeled in for the doctors."

"It does seem like a lot of risk over a game," Serenity said quietly, her hands clutched together in front of her.

"This isn't a game anymore." Duke shook his head. "Trust me; I own a gaming franchise. This stopped being a game when we traded fun for danger to life and limb."

Joey frowned. "This coming from the guy who once tried to ruin my life over a game with Yuugi."

Duke flushed red. "That wasn't—I wasn't putting you in any real danger."

"Just a dog suit. You obviously don't know the circles I used to run in if you think that couldn'ta got me killed." He shrugged off Duke's next attempted protest and continued, "Look, all I'm sayin' is people have been losin' their heads over this game since it was invented—even the inventor himself. This here tournament might be bad, but it ain't nothin' new."

"It's true," Anzu said softly. "Some of the things I saw in Duelist Kingdom . . . I mean, Mai was almost burned alive for her star chips, and that was before we even made it to the castle."

"Tristan even died in a shadow game," Ryou said, wincing. He adjusted the collar of his shirt like he was trying to better hide the ring.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Thank goodness Yuugi got me back." Tristan managed to look both sick and amused at the same time. "I thought I was going to die again later, but then it was just a balloon."

Everyone stared at him until he said, "What?"

Joey shook his head. "And Pegasus was stealin' souls left and right—Yuugi's grandpa, Kaiba, Mokuba. It wasn't exactly a party."

"You guys are literally making my argument for me." Duke tossed his hands in the air. "After all that in the last tournament, why did you even come to this one? Why are we letting things like this happen over a game?"

"Well, it ain't like I gave Marik an invite and written instructions about how to rack hammock—"

"Wreak havoc," Anzu corrected.

"—over everybody's fun," Joey said. "You know, it's a funny thing about bad people, Duke. Usually they don't need an invitation to be bad. Punks don't need an invite to rob someone's house or key someone's car. Rich-boys don't need an invite to bully people or humiliate 'em. Parents don't need an invite to hit their kids or break their hopes. And something else about bad people? They show up everywhere. At home, at school, at work, and yeah, even in games. So you can run if you want. You can let 'em bully you away from the things you love. Or you can fight."

He looped an arm around Serenity's shoulders, hugging her close. "You know why I stuck it out in Duelist Kingdom? She's right here."

Serenity's eyes welled up. Joey gave her another squeeze.

"Yuugi saved his grandpa," Anzu said. "And he stopped Pegasus before he could hurt anyone else."

"The bad people ain't going nowhere," Joey said. "But we ain't neither. And they'll lose in the end."

"I guess I just don't see it the same way," Duke said, expression dark. He turned and left, disappearing down the hall. Serenity made a move like she would go after him but then stopped short.

After a moment, Anzu sighed. "I can't really blame him. I mean, I'm all caught up in the madness, too, but it is madness, isn't it?"

"We're all mad here," Tristan said, sipping from an imaginary teacup, pinkie lifted.

Serenity gave a small smile. Joey slapped Tristan on the shoulder.

"Well, madness or not, some of us got duels in the mornin', and I need my beauty sleep before I broadcast my mug again."

"Joey . . ." Serenity hesitated. "Will Yori and Odion be alright?"

Joey forced a smile. "If Tristan can survive a balloon, I'm sure they can bounce back, too."

"Hey!" Tristan sniffed.

But Joey knew something else about bad people, something he lived with every day of his life: Sometimes the punks shot people when they keyed cars. Sometimes the rich-boys put families out on the street when they bullied.

Sometimes parents killed their kids.

And it was true there was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape all the bad in the world. But it wasn't true that good always won.

He knew that.

"Come on," he said. "Let's check on Mai."

Note: First off, apologies. I realize this isn't a very happy chapter for Christmas, and I don't even have a sweet oneshot to go with it. But sometimes that's the way life goes; things don't line up as we would like. I do hope everyone had an enjoyable holiday. If you didn't, I hope the new year holds brighter things. Love you all. Next update on Thursday, January 2nd, 2020.