We've officially entered the Third Act of Part One of this little series and I could not be happier with the result.
I really had to mentally prepare myself for this one, but once I started it was amazing how many little bits ended up making their way in and how many voices both wanted and needed to be heard: Yugi and Bakura's are my favorite :)
Darkened Proof
Yami stared out the window: legs crossed, fists clenched and his entire body tense as the city below him passed in a haze of gray buildings.
Jonouchi. He whispered the name and resisted the urge to hug his shoulders as a shutter of foreboding dread overcame him. I hope you're alright.
He'll be okay, Yugi appeared beside him, invisible to all but Yami. His words were reassuring but the concern coloring his eyes and the downward slope of his frown betrayed his true fears.
He was just as terrified as Yami, himself, and yet he was trying to be strong...for him.
Yami burned with shame.
I'm sorry, Yugi. He swallowed tears. I'm so sorry all of this happened.
Don't! Yugi protested immediately, catching the Spirit so off guard that he flinched. All his love and ferocity bleed into his voice. Don't you dare, Other me! None of this is your fault! I don't blame you for any of this!
Yugi looked at him with eyes so determined and absolute in their certainty that for a moment Yami did not recognize the boy staring back at him. Has Yugi always been so strong?
You didn't ask for this, Other Me. For any of this. You're here because you're trying to get back something that's important to you and we all want to help you. I know Marik thinks defeating you will end his suffering and break some curse on his family but he's wrong! You did nothing to deserve all this and whatever happens I'm not going to let him hurt you! Or Jonouchi or any of our friends! Do you understand, Other Me! I won't let him!
He took Yami's hand in his and squeezed. Though the touch was phantasmal, Yami felt the grip in all its warmth and reassuring strength, just as fierce and strong as Yugi's declaration. When Yugi's eyes met his again they were bright, his voice soft but heavy with promise. You're not alone, Other me. I'm right here.
The promise was made all the more powerful by the use of that sweet name Yugi had given him.
His first identity.
Yami could have cried.
Instead, he smiled, promising them both whatever Marik threw at them they would survive.
Thank you, Yugi.
"Yugi," Kaiba snapped the borrowed name, clearly having grown impatient with the other's long silence.
Still in his phantasmal state, Yugi whirled to the man, all the reassurance and comfort from before gone from his face. In its place was a hard, protective glare, a challenge and a promise like that of an older sibling who'd caught a less than desirable suitor making eyes at the younger.
And we will deal with him together, too. Yugi assured him and Yami almost blushed realizing exactly what Yugi had meant.
He had been too shocked and mad with worry to properly process the "incident" between him and Kaiba in the ally before, but now that he had...it took all his night to will away the flaming vermillion color that threatened to paint his entire face and keep his eyes from expanding. If his body had not been tense before, it certainly was now! His mind was a circus of chaotic feelings and jumbling thoughts all performing trapeze tricks impossible to keep track of. Good Ra and all the Saints, Kaiba had kissed him! Kissed him. Kissed him.
And he had no idea what to make of that?
Sex was the last thing on his mind, let alone romance or any kind of what in all the seven chambers of Ammet's stomach had Kaiba been thinking? Kissing him like that at that moment in time? Public displays of affection didn't bother him, it was a common occurrence in his ancient culture after all, but the timing of such an interaction? Jonouchi was in danger, lord only knew about Honda and Anzu or Otogi, they hadn't heard from Ryou and the Rare Hunters had all but bragged about how they intended to kidnap all his friends and use them as bait to lure him out!?
And Kaiba has chosen that moment to kiss him? Just the thought made Yami's blood boil! His cheeks reddened but not in embarrassment this time, though the shame certainly flared alongside his rage as well as a ferocious and justified indignation. He forced himself to swallow them for the time being, silently mourning the fact he had so many wild emotions and because of the timing and the circumstances, he could both allow himself to process or fathom a single one of them.
He schooled his features into an emotionless mask, refusing to allow Kaiba the satisfaction of seeing anything other than neutrality on his face.
With careful assurance to Yugi that he was alright, the other nodded and receded back into the puzzle but not before fixing Kaiba with one last protective glare.
Yami did not look at Kaiba as the man spoke.
"The leader of the Ghouls, his name is Marik right? As far as I'm concerned he's just another opponent but how much do you know about him? Does he really have the Sun Dragon Ra?"
Of course, that was Kaiba's only concern. "I've never met him," Yami answered short and sharp. "All I know is that he has a millennium item like mine."
Kaiba barked out a laugh "An item eh? More of your occult nonsense?"
"Not like me," Yami cut him off with a sharp sideways glance. "His Millennium Rod has a terrible power."
"The power to brainwash and control people eh?" Kaiba finished with far more humor than seriousness. If anything the glint in his eyes made him look almost intrigued. "I find that hard to believe..."
He spun to Yami then, his smile and eyes one of mad triumph and cruel victory. "But if that so-called power really does exist, what are the chances that Jonouchi has already been brainwashed and is being set up to fight you? I'd bet on it! What would happen then?" He challenged
Yami had no patience for the derision in his tone. "Kaiba, no matter what happens I will do anything to save Jonouchi!"
And he meant it.
Meant it as fiercely and strongly as Jonouchi had meant he would fight him in battle city as duelists and Champions.
As strongly and truthfully as Yugi when he told him not moments ago he was not alone and they were all there to help him.
And he meant it now just as passionately as he had the first time Kaiba had questioned his love and loyalty to his friends as a weakness.
He expected Kaiba to roll his eyes or look as disappointed or annoyed or, dare he say it, as jealous as he had before. anything but what Kaiba did do.
He smiled, and it was a smile that burned with absolute triumph. As if Yami had just stepped into a trap. His trap.
"You can say that...but you still can't answer my question and it's because of the dilemma in your heart."
"Dilemma?" Yami parroted, befuddled.
Kaiba's smirk curled. "That's right. During our duel with the Rare Hunters you preached about the 'power of unity' but what if…" a pause heavy with power. "What if you have to fight the person you care about? What good will your 'power of unity' do then?"
Yami did not answer, though he desperately wanted to. Sweat glistened on his forehead at the very thought of having to fight Jonouchi in such a way. Hadn't Shadi already tried to test that when he refused to fight that clone of Jonouchi in that twisted game of his last year? Hadn't he not shown him the 'power of unity' and the risks he and his friends were willing to go to save and help one another? Why now did they have to test that again? Why? And what's worse, deep down, Yugi and Yami both knew Shadi's clone was not the real Jonouchi.
"Listen, Yugi," Kaiba sighed and his voice softened. Was he trying to be comforting? "Do you know why human beings fight? Why they want to win so badly? Because of the passion of winning! So we can love ourselves in that moment!" He spoke with so much passion himself that Yami wondered if perhaps Kaiba associated the emotions as one in the same. And if so...was that how he viewed Yami himself? As something to win? Or something to defeat so he could love himself once again?
Had concern not outweighed his rage, Yami might have just punched him for that remark.
Kaiba must've caught his reaction because he chuckled, much to Yami's embarrassment, and returned his attention to the window where Mokuba was excitedly announcing their arrival.
"I look forward to seeing this 'answer' of yours." Kaiba's voice was all humor. "Let's see you play friends at the brink of Hell…"
Yami ignored him and directed his gaze out the window but instead of towering skyscrapers of glass and metal, he saw a wide endless ocean, huge ships and rows upon rows of warehouses.
Shock caught in Yami's throat.
Domino Pier.
The same place where Yugi, Jonouchi and I got on the ship for the Duelist Kingdom along with our friends…
Marik could not have chosen a better battlefield to hurt him if he had tried. He couldn't think about how or why Marik knew that, or fathom why exactly he'd chosen such a heart wrenching location or ponder why he'd chosen such a psychological attack for such a scheme. No, all he thought about, all he saw was the golden-haired young man standing on the edge of the pier.
He did not flinch as the helicopter landed though his all too familiar crop of messy blond hair and beloved dark blue jacket blew about wildly in the cyclone.
Yami had never descended so quickly in his life. All his earlier panic transformed into joy and relief as he exited the helicopter and approached his missing friend, but caution kept him in control and he hesitated to take the last step.
"Jonouchi!" Yami called over the roar of the helicopter and the low bass roar of the ship's foghorn. "Are you alright?"
The young man lifted his face and all of the hope that bloomed in Yami's chest froze like an apple blossom in a spring frost. For though he instantly recognised the face and knew the eyes bore the same honey-brown color and wide shape as those of his best friend, the vacant, shadowed eyes and malicious smile did not belong to Jonouchi.
"I've been waiting for you, Yugi."
Across the city, seated in the ruins of an unfinished stadium, Rishad gasped slightly as his Master suddenly stood, mad laughter erupting from his throat. His pale blond lion's mane suddenly rose in the non-existent wind, spiking up until the bangs mimicked bolts of destructive lighting. His eyes sharpened and shadowed, the normally lilac color turning frosty with sinister delight like two pieces of ice. Bulging veins creased his foreheads like a monster's. And the malicious glint of his teeth replacing his smile was that of a predatory creature that had just discovered its favorite prey.
And when he spoke it was in a voice that was muffled and slimy with psychotic glee like a child ready to tear the legs off a spider. "He's come!" The bloodlust and possessive obsession bleeding into those two syllables did not belong to his brother.
Rishad swallowed a gasp of horror.
He knew that face.
And it was not Marik's.
X X X
Bakura dumped the old man's body on the hospital bed meant for himself as easily and with as much care as one might deposit a sack of potatoes. Once he was comfortably snoring, Bakura set to work rummaging around the room for replacement bandages. His spell on the old man would only last so long and time was no longer the ally it was only an hour ago. He didn't much care for the old man but he was nonetheless important to his host and the Pharaoh and the Pharoah's brat and Bakura had promised, though that seemed to be coming back to bite him more often than he cared to admit..
He tore open several boxes of gauze and sticky adhesive wraps, dug around the apothecary of odd potion bottles and bizarre pots until he found a black rectangular bottle labeled "Peroxide" and anything else called "disinfectant" and set to. The pathetic excuse for bandages the healers this era called "doctors" like it made them sound smarter than they were, had given him had already soaked through, and he'd be damned if he was taken out of this early due to an infection.
Carefully he unwound the bloodied mess, popped open the peroxide and dumped the contents all over the wound. He swallowed a hiss as hundreds of thousands of pinpricks of pain bubbled over the red skin washing away the still leaking blood and revealing the crude stitching. The sting miniscule compared to most of the wound's he'd suffered in his lifetime, but the pain was good. In this era, he'd learned that meant the stuff was working. He let the concoction sit and watched it bubble with a momentary wince of disgust. It made him miss the days when aloe gel and honey-wrapped linens were used to wrap wounds.
Modern medicine has some inklings of the ancient wisdoms, but instead of advancing such wisdoms they picked and chose which compounds worked based on their preferences and didn't bother with anything else. The alcohol they'd used to disinfect the wound, earlier for example, was a poor choice for any such thing because it did nothing to stop the bleeding. God, what idiots these modern medicines wore. Briefly, he wondered what his mother would think of all this?
Knowing her she'd smack him upside the head for stabbing himself in the first place. He snorted, padded the wound dry with the paper towel and set to work rewrapping it. The stitching, at least, wasn't bad but his own loss of control infuriated him. He hadn't meant to stab so hard, and bitter as he was to admit it, the brat Marik's "presence" in his mind was the only thing keeping the pain at bay. Hell, it was almost non-existent!
He bit the bandage tight with his teeth, grabbed the duel disk off the counter and slipped it on. Briefly, he wondered if he should jump out the window, but decided it would be less conspicuous walking out the front door. Despite his flare for the dramatic, now wasn't the time for showboating.
He had a Pharaoh and a Brat to find. Now.
If what Yugi's admirer had said was true then that creature occupying his mind had plans for them both. Dangerous plans. Plans that Bakura might already be too late to stop. He might've bought time pretending to be Ryou (it was sickening how easy that had worked) but knowing that that monstrosity of the creature was not only pulling Marik's strings but behind all of this madness...No, Bakura couldn't afford distractions.
He didn't know exactly what the creature was planning but he knew exactly what it was capable of and more importantly, what it was after...or rather who he was after.
"And I'll be damned twice, if I let that thing take him without a fight!" Fury and determination fired Bakura's steps and he broke into a run as soon as the hospital's electric doors heralded his freedom.
"God what in Fuck, was Marik thinking? Allying himself with that thing?" Bakura howled, judgmentally, before refraining...Marik had spoken something about wanting to avenge his family Bakura sympathized with that all too well, whatever lies the creature had poisoned him with had clearly corrupted those passionate dreams into something twisted and awful.
How long had it been free? What threats and promises did it make the boy to coerce him into an alliance with it, for Bakur had no doubt threats and promises there were? Briefly, he didn't even want to know what had happened to make the man so desperate that he thought union with a demon was the only way out…
Bakura understood that as well.
"Fuck!" He shook his head and forced down his sympathies. They would only distract him, at least for now.
Right now, he had a Pharaoh to check on and possibly rescue, less his sentimental nature through all of Bakura's careful planning straight to the abyss. Once alone in the shadow of an ally, he closed his eyes and summoned Her.
She arrived within his shadow, all blazing eyes and serpentine grace. And she was worried. That was not a good sign. He did not need to speak the command she already knew and carefully, secretly so as to not alert the second mind occupying his sleeping host, she connected him to his shadow self still slumbering within the Millenium Puzzle.
The reconnection forged, his shadow self awoke and peeked out the Puzzle's single eye.
Bakura nearly had a heart attack.
X X X
The creature watched the delicious anguished fruits of its planning through the eyes of his dolls with twisted wonderment. He licked the doll's lips with his own tongue: a hungry desire that belonged to ravenous wolves, perverted bandits or spoiled nobles who had never been taught the word no. He savored the kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions fighting for dominance on the young Pharaoh's face: hope, resignation, terror, fear, regret, resolve, determination, remembrance, will, and a spirit that was so close to breaking all it needed was a simple touch and the glass would shatter. Oh, how he relished in it!
Relished in the boy's anguish and fear. Relished that he was the one who'd causes the normally resolved and controlled Pharoah to break his shield and reveal the passions he'd always worn so loosely on his sleeve for him, the rival that didn't even deserve to be referred to by his name, but oh how the creature wished he could see his precious Pharoah now? So desperate and vulnerable and so willing to do whatever "Marik" wanted if he thought it would save his precious friend.
It had always been his one true weakness: his love for these common folk.
A weakness, He, himself, had warned Pharaoh against many times in his first life and now the fool way paying the price for not heeding his wisdom, and how delicious it will be to see this one crumble in defeat, to watch that roaring fire of his passion dwindle to a flame that would only rekindle under his own instruction. To see the indomitable spirit in those eyes finally break. Oh yes, that was what he wanted to see. He wanted to watch all the spirit drain from this one's face, to see all the hope and strength and fire he wore around him like the glorious light of God, flickering and vanishing from his eyes. He wanted to watch as finally surrendered, but not in a dignified defeat, or a resigned resolve, no he wanted to watch this one surrender because all the hope within him died and there was no other choice for him but to do so.
Oh yes, only then would he claim this one as his own and take the power of Pharaohs for himself and this one with it, and leave this worthless vessel to rot.
He was so close, he could already taste it: taste the blood he would route, the tears his prize would shed and the glory of his own victory! And he could not wait to savor the boy's vanquished form in all its glory.
The nuisance he shared his Rod prison with made a sound of absolute disgust but he'd ignored the fool. He was most pleased to have an audience for this final victory. Even that Ring bearer who'd been an unexpected arrival had been taken out of the game before he could cause any could stop him now.
Not even his true vessel whose eyes he caught sizing up Pharaoh with the same lustful expectation he did through the eyes of this pretty doll Pharaoh called Jonouchi.
Not even Pharaoh whose fires still burned bright even as he knew the situation was hopeless.
Oh, how he couldn't wait to smother that fire.
"Jonouchi!" Pharaoh cried out. Did he think he could reach this fool's mind with mere pretty words and sentimental memories? "Wake up! Do you remember that sound? That's the same boat horn we heard on the day we left for Duelist kingdom?"
Apparently, he did.
He twisted Jonouchi's mouth into a small smile with just the slightest hint of recognition. Turning his eyes towards the boat as if he could still distantly recall Than he twisted it into a smirk that matched his own: all hunger and blood lust. "It doesnt mean a thing to me."
Such a good marionette.
And the look on Pharaoh's face...oh, how long had he waited to see that look on his face. No false bravado, no reserved smile, no mask of intimidation and insolence, no brave front...just pure and utter, terrified, horrified, grief-stricken shock.
It was the most delicious expression he had ever tasted.
And the most honest gift the boy had ever given him.
Even the anguish he'd feasted on the night of his creation had not tasted so intoxicatingly sweet. He could not wait to sample it over, and over, and over, and over again.
And the most honest gift the boy had ever given him.
Stepping out the helicopter, he spotted his vessel observing them with an unsurprised smile, and scrutinizing his doll like a cat would the corpse of a mouse, deciding whether or not it was safe to eat. He would play his role soon enough.
"Now," he said with a dramatic reveal of his duel disk in a voice that both did and did not belong to his doll. "I get to fight you in a duel of Life and Death!"
"No!" Pharaoh screamed and gone was anything other than anguished terror. "Not that! Jonouchi, please fight!"
He laughed in a corrupted form of Jonouchi's laughter. "You can't run away. you have to fight me...and then you have to die!"
Oh, the pain flashing across the boy's face was glorious!
And yet still he tried! Still he fought, a fleeting spark that roared into a conflagration of indignant and defiance and determination and love. Still he appealed to his fool's weak heart: of the promise they made to fight, of the card he had bequeathed him. How deeply that promise meant to him. How strongly those words touched him, inspired him to fight so hard because he, too, wanted to keep that promise.
It was pathetic.
He turned around and started towards the arena, even as Pharaoh stood there in shock.
And then he unveiled his trump card.
"It's useless, Yugi, no matter what you say you can't talk yourself out of this one. Your friend is my doll now...and his emotions are controlled by hatred!"
Pharaoh whirled around, his eyes blazing and his entire body loose and wild, ready to fight.
Then he froze and absolute terror consumed all his features as he laid eyes on the second of his dolls. He didn't bother to disguise his voice this time, and the words that came out sounded nothing like the girl whose mind he inhabited. No she was little more than a pretty little marionette without a mind or a voice. Her actions are controlled entirely by his strings.
Her face did not lift as she lifted the poisoned capsule and placed it between her teeth. She did not speak as she held up a pair of handcuffs and told Pharaoh to put them on. She did not look at him when she moved into position so he could watch the whole spectacle with a front row seat even as he controlled the doll of Pharaoh's best friend.
She was such a good little marionette.
And the heartbroken expression on Pharaoh's face as he watched her do all this was absolutely priceless.
The creature watched through the eyes of both his puppets as all the pieces of his plan fell into place. Watched as Pharaoh undid the belt about this waist that contained Slifer, pulled something out and then tossed it aside. He would get no aid from the Red God or that desert whore's soul in this battle or any.
Watched how in spite of all his fire and determination and hatred caught the slightest glimpse of hopeless despair flicker in Pharoah's burning red eyes, even as he vowed he would never forgive him or rather, never forgive "Marik".
And yet even Pharaoh could not deny it as the trap snapped closed and nothing, not Pharoah's impertinent vessel, not his foolish host or his annoying ancestor who was little more than pebble in his shoe or even the vessel who was immobilized by his brother's capture could stop him now.
No one.
X X X
Seto could not contain either his horror or his disgust.
A duel to the death. A literal duel to the death? What kind of monster was this Marik that he would force the Other Yugi to duel his best friend in such a despicable setup that made Russian roulette look like a children's circle game!?
As if making him duel Jonouchi possesed wasn't bad enough, he had to drag Anzu of all people into this mess and use her as a hostage to force Yugi to agree to it? Even worse they had to duel handcuffed to a God damned anchor? And anchor which if this duel was not won within 40 minutes would plummer to the bottom of the sea taking both of them with it and the only way to survive was to defeat the other and get their own key? And in Marik's own words if Yugi wanted to save Jonouchi, all he had to do was die.
It was sick and twisted and vile and so wrong that whatever genius the flawlessness of the trap may have presented was lost among the sheer and absolute insanity of it!
It was the most evil thing Seto had ever seen.
And he had planned Death T?.
"Marik," the Other Yugi shook with absolute fury. "I will never forgive you for this!"
Seto understood his rage. The fact that Marik's control was this strong...that Jonouchi, who was as loyal as a labrador and willful a survivor as a stray would ever not only agree but actually, willingly take part in?
Dear God…
Earlier he had told Mokuba a duelist must be prepared to crush all challenges, even if they were friends because that was the way of battle. That if you go against that, you'll never get anywhere...he had meant it. He believed it. It was his mantra. And he wanted more than anything for the Other Yugi to realize that.
There was only one way for the Other Yugi to win, to truly win and become the Duelist Seto knew he could become, the Duelist the Other Yugi was destined to become, the one true rival to Seto he was always meant to be. There was only one way and that was for Other Yugi to rid himself of his sentimentality, his "friendship and unity" garbage and just fight! Seto had wanted him to show him the Answer. He still did.
But this…
This…
This was just sick.
"Seto, are we going to let them do this!?" Mokuba's horrified voice brought back the terrible memories of Kaiba's own so-called "Games of Death". The Death T he had built with the sole purpose of committing murder, and had almost killed even Mokuba with in his desire for victory and pride. It was the most awful and shameful thing Seto had ever done, and the closest he had ever come to becoming the very monster he'd wanted him to be.
And yet even then his games had backdoors. Riddled to solve. Ways out. It didn't justify them, he knew, but it was nothing like this. This...this was...
God, even in his worst, he would never have done this!
If the only way to find the answer is for someone to die...then...I don't want to know it.
"I have to rescue them!" Kaiba shot forward determined to do just that, but froze at the sound of a scream. He whirled around. Terror froze him in place.
"Mokuba!"
"Not so fast, Kaiba!" the Ghoul held a dagger to Mokuba's throat. His accomplice came up beside him all menacing and ready to fight.
"Take one more step," they mocked. "And we'll feed your brother to the fishes!"
Mokuba looked at him with scared, pleading eyes that tore Seto's soul apart. Fuck. He cursed, then forced himself to relax and sent his brother a special look, a promise. Stay calm. I won't let them hurt you.
He spun to the duel, his own mind a mess of emotions ranging between terror, rage and guilt.
All he could do was watch as this terrible duel of death started and the worst part was no matter who "won" everyone would lose.
Kaiba had never felt so helpless in all his life.
High above the city as the final duel before the Millenium Trial took place, four Gods watched their respective avatars with baited breath and the uncertainty that only came from having unlimited knowledge of the workings of the universe, and absolutely no idea which direction and wheel of Fate planned to turn.
Deep in the heart of Pharaoh's deck, the beautiful black dragon with eyes as red as passion, love and fire sorrowed.
And then she wept.
And then she roared.
Hope you all enjoyed that little snippet of Evil Marik's pov...because yeah, again re-reading the manga there are definitely some obvious visual cues prior to the finals that I now recognizes is Evil Marik working through our favorite Tomb Keeper without his knowledge...doesn't justify it but well...you'll see.
There is a particular scene in Volume 15 that I think is a HUGE reveal of Seto's character development where he and Mokuba see the trap Marik has set up and his so shocked, however much he wants Yami to let go of his friends, he refuses to let it take place and only doesn't because Mokuba is held hostage. He canonically says "even at my worst I would never have done THIS." and I think that revelation is such a strong moment for his character, so I was very happy to expand on that.
Looks like Evil Marik has everyone on the ropes and literally no one can stop him...
Or does he...
