Mokuba had been kidnapped, obviously.
He had pondered in the past the possibility of leaving him locked up in the Mansion wherever he had to go somewhere, just to keep him safe. The kid had never been much of a fan of confinement, however, and as much as Seto feared the possibility of him getting in danger, he feared more than his brother would grow up far from the world because of him, watching from his golden cage, never being a part of the action.
With this, destiny hammered into him that the idea wouldn't be so bad.
His veins froze when he couldn't find the black mane anywhere, a missing face surrounding his every thought. He had always been a bit paranoic, he had to be. A kid only can predict so far without leaving his naivete behind, and he had learned to be that way since a young age. He hated to be proven right, all the time.
The idiots that were supposed to keep an eye on him had tried to calm him, shouting through his psychotic episode that the kid was not alone.
The dancer was with him.
It had felt odd, and he hated to admit that his heart had eased a bit. She had begun to get closer to his brother for a while now, the youngster chanted from time-to-time things Mazaki had told him or places she had taken him to. Of course she was with him, his mind's eye pictured the scene of the kidnapping, where an innocent child was pleading for help while his friend, as inoffensive as him, was trying to get them away from the goon with claws and teeth.
He imagined the kid crying, scared. And the girl soothing him, in the most maternal way both had known.
His boots clacked under the intensity of the run, there was a point where he thought they would burst. Idiots, idiots, idiots! He chanted under his breath, every exhalation making him feel more frantic. Hadn't they cared enough for his brother, but their own friend too?! Their worried faces and empty words of encouragement angered him to the brim. They couldn't even save their own people, so of course, he had to do it all himself, all the time!
They couldn't do anything, not when he wasn't around. A sour smile graced his features, a less than kind motivation behind it. Even Pharaoh´s had limits, he supposed, but the excuses weren't enough for him.
He would save them. He was the only one that knew how.
The burst of adrenaline left his body when he encountered a much familiar face near the dock. It was him; he was safe! The emotions were almost too much, and he squeezed the little body in his arms until he begged him to stop, smiling. Gratitude and relief made him watery, but he managed to keep himself steady and just exchange words with his brother in a sincere tone he reserved only for Mokuba.
The boy had reciprocated his appeasement immediately, clinging to him like a baby koala. After they were both on their feet again, his brother seemed to remember something, something very important.
She had saved him, he had said. And she was still with them.
His momentary peace made him think a bit straighter, but he was no sane man. Now that he had the most precious person by his side again, in his protection, he couldn't let another escape his steel gaze.
A protective part surged within him without warning, driving him to despair.
He couldn't let her down again. Not after she had done this for him.
While both brothers drove to the other side of the dock, he felt he should have analyzed her intentions further, again his paranoic side stripping the people around him the quality of just being nice.
She could have approached the boy because of his link to Kaiba, it wasn't hard to conclude that he would do anything for his only living family. And she was smart, he would know, she would have noticed the uselessness of her friends and the availability of the Pharaoh way before him since she had been the subject of abduction many times before.
Maybe that´s why she had saved him, he thought as he looked at the boy from the driver's seat with a sour taste in his mouth. As to guarantee her own safety, making him owe his own brother to her, a reservation.
The sour feeling turned into anger, but not to her. He directed his concentration and cleared up his mind from the bitter feelings, knowing that she wouldn't do the same thing as others would.
He knew her. He knew her far more than he would like.
She was kind, infuriatingly selfless. It was as if she was doing it to prove herself to be better than him in that aspect, generosity was something that even money couldn't buy, as much as charity tried to convince you otherwise. Unlike charity, all of her moves seemed to be made with intent, not by pressure to impress someone. How maddening, he thought, to have someone punch you in the face with attributes you just didn't have, or couldn't care less to have, as she had said to him one day.
A piece of work, she was.
They arrived at the station to witness something that made his stomach hurt. He couldn't care less about the villain in turn or his motivations, for they probably only concerned the mutt and his owner, not the girl currently being threatened to be killed in the unsuccessful satisfaction of his demands.
How unfair, he thought, how cowardly. To kidnap a child and a girl whose only crime was to be in disposal, as if she was a currency and not the eventful person he knew and some time ago, loved.
His nervousness and difficulty to keep his cool made him realize that the care they once shared hadn't dissolved completely. Whether it had developed into a more platonic kind of concern or had something else never quite left his internal dialogue, he was better without knowing.
Mokuba was with him because of her, he couldn't help to imagine the little boy being below that giant boulder, listening to some weirdos talk about a tragic past while the heroes stood there doing nothing. He searched for her gaze through the fog, trying to ease her even with his characteristic, apparently blank stare.
She would know otherwise, she had learned. She had learned his language, a ramification of human communication he had developed in captivity, without anyone to share. Only a few knew the strange lingo, his brother practically having inherited from him and some of some waiters becoming translators for the safety of their jobs.
Seto connected to her from below, yearning for a reception. Her eyes fluttered around him, scared, but she finally saw him in the eyes and stopped moving, getting that no matter how much struggling she did, the bounds wouldn't leave her.
Quit it, Mazaki. There is no use, if you can't help it, don't go around making a fool of yourself.
He had never thought about how she looked when scared, not having the time to appreciate it sooner. So small, so vulnerable, her eyes so very wide and searching. Her legs trembled and her lower lip wavered when she looked up, her already pale skin becoming translucent.
She really thought she was going to die.
The ordeal between the goons and the people around him didn't last much, but it felt like an eternity. Mokuba screamed and cried in his arms, confused and upset as to why they couldn't let her go and Seto why are you not doing anything she is going to die they are going to kill her we have to save her SETO PLEASE HELP HER!, and he knew that from an outsiders perspective, he seemed as he couldn't care any less.
Anzu lowered her head and listened to the duel, patient. It was as if she had accepted her fate when they connected eyes, giving up on her will to get away and simply listening to what her abductors had to say. His boots suddenly weighed a ton, just as much as his chest, which gave away to the strange sensation of not getting to do what he wanted to.
Even if he got there somehow, avoiding all the guards, he couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't just release the pedal and let her become a red stain on the floor before he got up there. If by some miracle he managed to get there, the metal clutches would prove to be a challenge, and by then, both would die, either by the giant pebble or the goon´s brutality.
He had to be patient; a virtue she knew he didn't have. He had to be patient enough to let the mutt and her friends distract the antagonist from the trap so his chances of getting her and himself alive out of there would increase. If an operation didn't have at least a 40% chance to be profitable, he didn't risk it, that was his rule. And even if her friends managed to distract the maniac, their chances didn't surpass the 30% he would be comfortable to bargain with.
Anzu trembled in her bounds again when the antagonist threatened to end the conflict quickly by letting her become another collateral victim. Her friends finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, every one of them was shouting for him to let the girl go and Yugi summoned the ancient spirit to the field, his alter ego being terrorized by the scene in front of them.
A cold fire traveled across his body when the boulder slipped a few centimeters from its designed height, a strangled No! dying on his throat as the voices of her friends ceased, everyone holding their breath. Mazaki looked up to the cloaked villain in what appeared to be a mix of hate and supplication, not even the foulest of insults would have been enough to filter her from the venomous feelings, he knew from the way she kept her mouth shut, much tenser than before.
She had ways of letting her negative emotions go, much to his surprise, dance wasn't one of them. She had told him, in one of her honest walks, that her passion was something she didn't want to pollute with anger or sadness. By the way she talked, she was on much better terms with her emotions than him, constantly keeping herself in check and taking a moment of the day to just sit there and analyze herself as she lived and grow. He had never considered meditation, his busy schedule made it impossible to have a single moment of peace, but he stopped scoffing at the idea of Yoga mockingly, instead of linking the whole concept to her, without realizing it.
The duel was not giving signals of being over yet. He had been too concentrated on the shadow of the rock looming over the girl to hear the exact rules, but it seemed that this was a trap designated to keep the participant´s emotions on the brink of madness, looping endlessly until someone dropped dead.
He kept telling himself they didn't have time for that, that Seto Kaiba couldn't wait like the other one, because he wanted something, and he wanted it now! But just as she had once predicted, life found ways to put him in his place, take him off that pedestal he had created, an illusion that desperation, thirst, and mortality could not get to him because of all the great things he had accomplished.
To death, we are all equal. And losing her to the weight of time would be like being drowned alive.
His mind gave him no room for rest, bombarding him with the scenarios and rivers of continuity the imminent death of the girl would lead him to. He imagined himself petrified in the dock while a pool of crimson blood tainted his leather boots, the cries of sorrow of everyone who held her dear drowning the sound of the sea while the birds sang a sonnet war.
He imagined himself going ballistic after her death, not even ashes could be delivered to a family he was sure was not worthy of having her, constantly letting her hang out with social misfits without much of a fight. Did they even care about her as much as they should? Would they even be as mad as him for a fate they could all have avoided?
The afternoons spent by her side came back to him in seconds, her pure intents to make a connection and to understand him fully going painfully slow. He remembered her standing close by, helping him with tasks they both knew weren't important, just to pass time.
He remembered her doing all the talking next to a strawberry sorbet while he almost fell asleep, recalling the times he had turned her down at the last minute because he couldn't do it today, not calling back because something told him he was showing too much, he needed to be more distant.
He had asked himself in the cloak of the night if someone would really be able to understand him once he passed away. The unreasonable fear of his secrets disappearing along with his body leaving existential crisis in his pillow the next morning was always swept by her morning messages, a sincere daily wish that they could see each other again and again.
The rock is hanging above her, moving slightly with a breeze. He realizes that if she dies now, his secrets die with her.
It should make him feel relieved, but the vacuum inside his stomach drains him from anything resembling ease.
If she dies now, my secrets die with her.
It had taken a while for him to realize that the contact he had rejected from the outside world was driving him mad, hunger for a connection had been what had made him accept Mazaki´s proposal in the first place.
He had surprised himself with the want to touch her, to be near her. After a long day of work, being next to her in a seemingly normal and calm place made him feel revitalized, he wondered if she had even cached a furtive smile when he thought she wasn't looking.
There is movement somewhere below him. The platform has risen and the duel is over, there is a scream coming from above and the group retreats to safer ground, he can't think straight enough to see that the villain has gone missing by this point.
A button, previously covered by a goon, shines below the Domino Sun, reflecting all the red light back to him and giving him a straight, concrete answer.
I need to push it. If I don't, she will die.
It was too far away, way out of his reach. Mokuba wailed and wept bellow him, he too noticed that she could just be freed by the push of a button.
He fumbled in his pockets for something to throw, to make the shot count. As seconds became unbearably long, he noticed that the only thing residing on him after all the rude changes of scenery between his and Mokuba´s scape was a foiled card.
The Blue-Eyes White Dragon, in all its hard-casing glory. He kept it there in case something unexpected happened, like a storm, or an accident.
Or a kidnapping.
It took mere seconds to decide. His amulet, more than a mere cardboard imitation of a mythological beast, than with its fire and shining armor had kept him sane in the cold nights, grounded when delusional, company when alone.
She had always told him that his materialistic nature would be the end of him. He hadn't even bothered to explain what everything he owned meant to him, he knew she didn't need to understand.
She was always so free of things in the mortal realm, a theological philosophy that may have to do with a shiny golden monk that he can never differentiate from the others on the Pantheon lot. She had had everything given to her, from clothes and company, her time with him had made him realize that the ones that weren't so lucky were nearer than she could have ever imagined.
She had asked once if he would ever give it away for something else. Sacrificing monsters was something he was accustomed to, pawns come and go, but even at the edge of a defeat, he always made sure his silver steeds remained with him. They had seen him grow, and they would be the ones to accompany him to the brink of death, he had said with a chest full of pride.
He had been too busy thinking on strategies to realize that she had next to no interest in a card game.
The launch is graceful, precise, like the sword of a talented but old samurai. The will of its master directs it to the center of the button and with a sound he thinks doesn't even hold a candle to the percussion that dwells in his head, frees the girl from the shackles, leaving her to do as she pleases.
For a moment she stands there, paralyzed. He is going to scream at her to move, to run, to get the hell away from here, Mazaki! They can come back at any moment, come with me, they won't ever find us! But the opportunity is cut short when the group surrounds her, including the little furball that was previously crying on his older brother´s leg.
She doesn't smile. Everyone touches her, cries with joy. Both seem stunned for different reasons, it surprises him to see her go immediately after the card, the lonely piece of plastic sitting mere centimeters from the loading bay, a small distance away from utter destruction.
They caress her arms, her cheeks. Show comfort and relief so easily that he is almost jealous at the contact they have established as a fact, a communication channel. Mokuba climbs up her legs and cries, searching her presence through the hug she gives with an absent glance.
The Blue Eyes mirror her sapphire eyes as she examines the item and confirms what he knows. It´s his, the one and only.
The Pharaoh takes her hand and rushes her to the street, where he foolishly assures her she will be safe and out of danger. He hopes she doesn't believe him, that she knows in what danger she is in every time an otherworldly presence decides to mess with the ancient spirit.
Because he won't be there to protect her forever, as much as he wishes he would.
She disintegrates from the mob with the little boy in tow, her trembling hands massaging his scalp.
It´s obvious that she wants to thank him, but she utters no words to him, but to the still crying boy. She handles it to him and Kaiba shushes him, telling him that everything is alright, just like she told you.
There was no dark intention lurking behind his act of fate, he wants her to know that. He doesn't want her gratitude, nor the satisfaction of knowing that after all this time, he is still the one to save her.
He doesn't want her to remember all the times she gave up on him and wonders if she should have given him another chance. The embraces he initiated but never reciprocated, the times she stood outside, waiting in the rain, to only find out that he was busy, that he could bother to see her today.
He doesn't want her to think that maybe, he wasn't so bad after all.
Because he was. And if given the opportunity, he wouldn't know what he would do to be different.
Her pack, made up of people she loves and knows how to love back, engulf her, leaving only her glassy eyes and trembling lip on his mind, like the ones he saw the night he told her he didn't want her anymore, that she was too much for him.
Quick and easy, she is gone. The younger of the group, a red-haired girl that seems to be related to the mutt, waits for them to pass and handles him his card, touched by the slender fingers that once swore to never break a promise, to make him see paradise again.
He doesn't expect it, but a small thank you escapes her as she goes back to her brother's arms, murmuring about things that become unherdable once a distance is set.
"You saved her Seto". Mokuba says, for once free of negative emotions. "Thank you".
"Don't thank me". He replies, putting the card back in his pocket "We did it. Is what we had to do".
It´s what I owe her. That is the least I could do.
A/N: Based on the headcanon that Anzu and Kaiba dated before this duel. The relationship fell apart after Seto showed how emotionally unavailable he is, both concluded that they didn't fit together and eventually broke up.
I don't remember much about this episode(s), I mostly write about Anzu and her shenanigans so I couldn't put myself through that extended car duel without batting an eye for only a few scenes. What is important is the final part, I hope I portrayed it correctly.
Thank you for reading.