Remembrance

Michiro-Chan: Those who've already reviewed: I THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART! This story is so OOC. Kaiba's questioning his pride locked alone in the bathroom; Mokuba's hysterical and has gone to Jounouchi (!) for help; and Jounouchi is recovering from the trauma of frenching Kaiba! It's about to get very out-of-character; to the point I could find that Kazuki Takahashi might press charges. Be my guest, and send complaints in your reviews. But compliments are always nice too. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu-Gi-Ou! nor do I own any of the characters used in this fan fiction.

XXX

"When I look in your eyes, there's nothing there to see…nothing but my own mistakes staring back at me."

XXX

Clear sound of any noise beyond the room was immediately shut off from his earshot. Numbness instantly spread through his legs first, following his entire body--along with a tingling sensation toward the tips of his nerves. The loudest sound inside his ears was now only the eager throbbing of his heart. Heavy sweat rushed from his pores after this tiring seizure, and his vision began hazing agonizingly. Next, it was the fatigue. Finally, surprisingly on schedule, he could check off the inevitable "I feel too limp to stand anymore" from the to-do list.

The brunet's eyes pinched shut. "Oh God, I'm dehydrated again--" he could barely hear himself murmur the words. Only that one pulse, and that taunting, piercing tone in the back of his mind. Cold sweat trickled along his face. He was going to pass out again…

Seto managed, in his vibration and deadness in his nerves, to slip his clothing back on, but struggled to his feet. Dizziness seized him at the moment, not allowing him to proceed. Listlessly clearing up again, his eyesight allowed him further passage. His head swayed at the intense nausea he was suffering. Room spiraling as he narrowly escaped through the door of his bathroom, he collapsed onto his open four-poster, lilied-canopy, majestic bed, heaving in scarce breaths.

It'd happened more times than he could have remembered. And with each one, Mokuba always made the frantic telephone call to the family doctor, demanding emergency service at once. The last thing the CEO needed was another visit from that provocative physician, only to spell out upsetting news to his younger brother that he was going to die. He didn't want to clarify this slow, but sure, deteriorating physical condition to his little sibling. Mokuba was intuitive as it was, but Seto had been sure beforehand that the lesser Kaiba was entirely aware of this confusion.

"Listen to me, Mokuba-sama…your brother is anorexic. And if you don't do anything soon to help his condition, he's only going to die quicker--"

"YOU LIAR! MY BIG BROTHER ISN'T! HE'S NOT! HE'S NOT-- AND HE'S NOT GOING TO DIE! NO! STOP TELLING ME ALL THESE LIES! NII-SAMA WOULD NEVER HAVE AN EATING DISORDER!"

"Mokuba, please--if you'll just listen--"

"LEAVE! IF YOU'RE JUST GONNA TELL LIES ABOUT MY BIG BROTHER, THEN LEAVE NOW!"

"Mokuba, his symptoms have already been clinically proven; denying it isn't going to help Mr. Kaiba…"

"LEAVE! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS!"

"D'you know how much your brother weighs, Mokuba? D'you see the profuse hair on his arms and legs? His vulnerability to coldness and heat? Look at his cholesterol and glucose levels--"

"STATISTICS AREN'T GOING TO CHANGE ANYTHING! SETO'S FINE! HE'S FINE--SO DON'T TRY TO TELL ME HE'S SICK! He's--fine. Seto's fine…he's--he's just gotten a little skinny. What do you know about him, anyway! H--he's just gotten a little sick from overworking like he always does…it's no--thing…he's f--fine. It's nothing at all--everything's gonna get better, like it always does…nothin's wrong."

The periodic, "Please don't take this the wrong way--but can you please stop whatever diet you're on, nii-sama?" from the troubled, sable-haired boy had always been hushed by his cold frown of disapproval. Now, he never heard Mokuba mention it again, but knew his little brother meant it now in particular by means of the wounded glimmer the child held in his eyes. Both brothers knew each other only too well to not see when one had a concern for the other. By chance, treading past his younger sibling, he'd notice a thorough observation from the pre-teen with those grayish orbs, and would watch Mokuba cock his head back as he always did when looking toward his only kindred in the face. Eventually, both would have discussion with only use of their eyes.

Seto made out by the looks he'd been receiving recently, Mokuba intended something along the lines of, "I think I know whatchya've been doing to yourself. Nii-sama, couldja tell me why you're doing it?" Seto could almost hear poor Moki stammering through that question. Of course, his well mannered, powerless, innocuous, little brother would neverdareask a question like that aloud.

Slowly, Seto began to feel his dehydration leave and with it, his body felt exhausted. Stunning, Prussian eyes gradually closed. He released a long sigh. "May as well work. Better way to pass the time--"

The teenage CEO rose to his feet and strolled off to his headquarters lethargically.

XXX

"Jounouchi-kun? Are you all right? You seem quiet."

The blond quickly shook his head back to reality once again and gazed back toward his tiny comrade. "No--yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking 'bout…stuff." His eyes had been unintentionally riveted toward a passing semi-truck.

Yuugi's spacious, violet eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, I guess if you say so--" He was a bit apprehensive with the situation that happened earlier in the day.

"Yeah, exactly where were you at lunch? You just left the classroom without a word--and don't try to say you weren't hungry; you know that won't work with us. We know you only too well to believe that lie." Mazaki Anzu moved in step with Jounouchi and Yuugi, soft expression fairly teasing.

Honda Hiroto's long countenance showed true concern. He noticed immediately that his friend had something on his mind. "Ya sure you're all right? I mean, we care about you Jounouchi; that's why we're asking. Don't hesitate to talk about it with us."

The amber-eyed adolescent nibbled his lower lip neighboring these words of comfort, a small force within him urging to reveal it. And that kiss… "Well--it's nothin', you guys. Forgetta' 'bout it. Ya don't hafta' worry, so let's just get on with life…" He knew the consequences of revealing Seto's secret. So Jounouchi's pace accelerated, with the usual, casual stance of his expandable file slung over his slackened shoulder.

He'd made a pledge to Mokuba. He knew he had to come to the Kaiba mansion--but something was holding him back from going calmly. He didn't want to go, actually. A playful unease jolted inside his stomach. The "five W's" were rushing through that seldom-used brain of his. Just who was Kaiba to actually return that kiss Jounouchi gave him? Why did a sudden fear come across him? What had happened to that hotheaded, fearless Jounouchi never self-doubting to berating that self-important CEO? Was it because of the "discussion" he had with Kaiba? Where and when was he going to be allowed to meet with the brunet again and fuck him senseless? And how had Kaiba Seto shown actual lust to another human being, let alone one he hated?

Which pressed another issue on him…did he actually like the guy--or the saliva he got from him? And now he was unsure of his sexuality. Too much had happened all in less than one day.

The crotch region of his trousers stiffened at these thoughts. A subtle moan surfaced his mouth, but the regular clamor of urban home-life hid the sound. Jounouchi flushed at this unpleasant phenomena, and made his exit away from his three friends as quick as possible. "Um…guys, I gotta' go--I'll see ya tomorrow! Damn--" With an abrupt wave of his hand, he trotted off continuing to curse beneath his breath.

"Uh-well…bye, Jounouchi-kun!"

"See ya, Jounouchi!"

"What's he running off for--?"

XXX

The CEO's stony gaze cast aside from his heavily gloved hands skillfully arranging hundreds of twisting, entangled, diversely-colored cables into various, uncountable sockets only a gifted technician could know with where to put what. He paused for a moment, then grunted toward his insightful motion back, next to his contraption again, sunken, azure eyes growing rather weary. The spacious, mucky lab was where all Seto's dreams took true form--although the condition of the laboratory was worn-down and sultry to the point one's throat would feel clogged-up with the milieu, it had always been a room of fondness to the teen in his elegant mansion.

Rust veiling cinder walls, scraps of both welted and coiled metal resting in heaps, all scattered along filthy, concrete floors like dapples of wilted flowers kissing the snowy ground with their gnarled petals--inventions that had once chance in greatness, but hit with the untimely frost of neglect. The area was as massive as any school's gymnasium, just the same, cracked, grimy windows located near the corners beside the ceiling's aged, slightly battered form, while several large fans were located around different regions of the lab, basically near used machines that produced the most exhaust while creating Kaiba Corporation parts and replicas.

Drills and glimmering hand tools scattered around to-be-put-together equipment, along with many spread out blow torches and solders, accompanied by oodles of large and tiny nuts-hexagonal, squared, winged, and such. But, past the debris of the area, the finery of the room verged on the countless, beautiful machines that rest side by side in great rows--models fully completed, and glittering in their high achievement.

"Hn… A to C? No-" he kept toying with the cords broodingly, pushing the tip of the hinged metal plug into its socket, and creating a tinny clicking sound each time. His hands continued operating at hurried pace. 'The third prototype, and frankly, I'm getting a impatient with the model…'

"Gettin' mad with the virtual simulator again, nii-sama? You're gonna get it right soon. Ya always do--"

At this familiar voice, Seto turned on his heel to make out the broad, genial smile from his younger brother, and glowered slightly. "Mokuba, I've told you not to barge in while I'm working more times than I can keep track." He stared back toward the mechanism and continued assembling its complicated wires. Though the tone of his voice was scolding, Mokuba spotted the hint of hidden pleasure no other individual would uncover. He knew his elder sibling was actually very glad to see him after the lonely day he usually led.

The ebony-haired youth plopped into a nearby chair, and slid it up beside his brother to inspect what the CEO was working on this time. His shimmering eyes broadened. "You mixed up one a' the cables? That's never good."

"Yes and I can handle it myself, otouto. Dammit--I'm getting no signal…"

Mokuba chuckled quietly and arranged the sparse contents of a small paper bag. "Sweet dumplings, nii-sama? I bought them on the way home. The guards told me ya came home from school real early and I was thinking you prob'ly needed something to eat--I'm guessing you've been working all day, as usual, so you must be starving." He beckoned the candied slab out toward his brother.

Seto covered up the distinct stab at his midsection and progressed with a blunt shake of his head. "Thanks little brother, but I'm fine. Likewise, we're having dinner in about an hour. I wouldn't want you to spoil your appetite--"

"It's just one, nii-sama. And you look peaked--a little bit for you wouldn't hurt either. Please?" The sack rustled again as he flourished it toward his next of kin pleadingly. "You work too much. Just take a little break for once an' have one with me?"

"Mokuba, I have a lot of work to do. The last thing I need is a snack time."

"But, it's--it's your first day after…well--and I was thinkin' you needed to go easy, nii-sama. You shouldn't work a lot. At least…at least not until you feel better." The child trundled in his seat edgily and tilted down his head.

The ginger-haired teen beckoned a lazy hand toward his face. "Look at me, little brother. I'm fine."

It gave Mokuba pain to plainly stare toward that gaunt, pallid façade, and expect the bottomless denial his brother was forever plunging into. He knew Seto was actually very sick.

"But, nii-sama--" His jaw closed. "I guess I'll see you at dinner then." The younger Kaiba briskly treaded out from his brother's laboratory, and gloomily captured a morsel of one of the smaller dumplings. At its common, sugary flavor, Mokuba grimaced. "Dumplings always do taste better when ya got someone to share them with."

XXX

'She was going to die. I remember everything.'

"Seto, come over here and sit by me…" She had tenuous, ashen, yet attractive lips that seemed to be slowly withering from a lack of physical moisture--no longer having the healthy, pleasant luster they once had that had also come with her son's. "Don't be scared, Seto…please come--"

'I'd always wanted a little brother. I hardly ever spoke, so I didn't have any friends. I was coy even toward my parents.'

His mother had been released from the IV and infirmary bed for once, and settled at the end of the clinic hall, sitting unwearyingly onto an assortment of discolored, old-looking cushions--a dejection hung within her eyes observing her son's hesitation to approach her, and pallid hands beckoning the child to sit beside her.

A very young, rather tiny woman--around about her early twenties--with a glaringly thin body draped in a bleached-beyond-help hospital gown, gesturing and nodding toward her child warmly. Her lengthy, thick whorls of shimmering ebony hair were drawn back into an unfastened, long plait, several inky filaments hanging loose from her disheveled braid, and draping into her beguiling, cerulean eyes. An agonizingly pale, long, beautiful face that would later make up the structure of her first-born.

"Go see your mother--" The whisper kindled his very senses as he embedded his childish, sneaker-clad feet onto the brownish, shag carpet.

'The day my father found out my mother was going to have a baby, he was--overjoyed, I suppose. It was the fascination to his life. To care for my frail, sickly mother--as she slowly approached her final breath of life. Physicians had uncovered a rare blood disease that would take effect harmfully during her late teens…and eventually kill her by twenty-two if the hemoglobin in her bloodstream did not manage to increase over the time frame. It resulted in paleness and generalized weakness to her appearance which I'd always feared. Her red blood corpuscles were dying out…and too little donors were of the "O" blood type my mother had, required for full restoration of her health. The very thing that kept her immune to lethal diseases was lacking in her fragile system. Though what concerned doctors most was her pregnancy and the state of the fetus. My father was always loyal to her; always loving and always caring--but I can't recall a time he ever told me he loved me.'

With a small thrust from his father, he began advancing toward her, luminous, Prussian eyes--that seemed too enormous for such a small, mesmeric façade--narrowing somewhat as he toddled with the bouquet of white carnations gathered in both his tiny arms. So timid, and frightened of the very thing that gave him life…

His footsteps finally drew within the company of her reach, and his childish face slanted back toward her noiselessly. Dimpled, childlike hands brandished the great sprig of blossomed foliage in her touch, and she accepted the gift with a grateful, swift bow of her head. He clambered onto the lounging seat beside his mother--clothed in deliciously snug, corduroy Oshkosh overalls that clung to his frame practically like a second skin--unclothed, frugal, yet somewhat coltish legs dangling from the rim of his tall seating.

'The stress with carrying Mokuba only made my mother's condition worse. But I only remember a constant smile on her face. She laughed and smiled despite her inevitable failing physical being--just like the tittering, naïve child she was. She told me of her moving love for me and her promise of forever being by my side--yet, she still left me in one of the most painful ways any child or adult could ever be subjected to.'

"There you go, Seto. And you brought flowers, I see. You remembered. That was so--" Her expression faltered for a moment as she traced the pleasant fragrance of the gorgeous plant, and her son looked on questioningly. The female's countenance finally flickered into a broad smile as she uttered a fragile, "Thoughtful of you."

"I'll leave you two alone for now. But I'm off to go get you some lunch from the cafeteria, and little Seto can keep you company--" Hardly even an adult quite yet in appearance, the young adult ruffled his son's mane of thick, russet tresses, and treaded out of the rest home with full intention to return as soon as he could to tend to his sick wife.

'I remember her as that painfully slender, pale, ghostly figure beneath faded hospital sheets--not as my mother, but only as an ill, pregnant hospital patient with brittle, slender hands that reached for mine as a child. I was sadly…scared of her, being as young as I was. Long, messy but not tangled, black hair,--almost the same as Mokuba's…pained, blue eyes…and as much as I hate to say--one of the most gorgeous, yet one of the last smiles that'll ever be worth remembering.'

In great distinction to the constant jostle and stirring of all the doctors, surgeons, and nurses transporting their manila portfolios, and ushering both infants and adults into their offices--togged up in either scowls or toothy grins on their expressions--to the great reek of throwaway sanatorium robes, and the constant drone of a nearby crowd of noisy people or given receptionists…the clinic seemed much more peaceful. Shizukana. Just like Seto had always loved it.

"Have you still been practicing piano, Seto?" The youthful, ailing woman almost sung the question. She chuckled toward the tiny waggle of the child's head. "What've you been playing? Did you learn that really hard song we practiced awhile back? All of it?"

"Mm-hm." At this, he nodded deeply at his mother's uncertainties.

"I'm sure you play it very well, Seto. It's a beautiful piece, too. Beethoven's Moonlight sequence. At this rate, you'll definitely play better than me one day…" Her youthful expression grew slightly downcast as she gazed toward the thrifty plastic tagged around her fragile wrist, but she quickly withheld this sorrow with another of her childlike, one-in-a-million smiles turned toward Seto.

'I was young. And completely naïve, I came to the hospital with my unsmiling father, carrying a new bouquet of carnations to replace her dead ones--wondering what he'd been so upset over--and as expected, after she'd given birth to him, she passed away. I remember my mother clasping my hands with her pale, delicate, corpselike ones, and asking me to take care of Mokuba for her. Even though I barely recognized the woman, and barely ever accredited her as my mother--seeing how pitiful she looked that night, I promised her I would before she rest in peace.'

She lifted her son's tiny hands observantly. "Your hands are still too small to play the really, really hard pieces quite yet…you're very smart, but you're so quiet. You know that?" A toothless beam lit her enchanting expression. It never failed to make Seto feel warmth inside. "I wonder how you're going to get through life always whispering into somebody else's ear when you're answering a stranger's question; a social misfit--although I have to admit it's still very cute." She giggled subtly and gestured toward her abdomen which was vaguely distended with pregnancy. "When your little sibling comes, let's hope you can speak up a bit. I have a feeling you're going to be more talkative if you have a brother or sister to take care of."

'Even if my mother passed away, Mokuba was born. On the other hand, my mother's anemia had left Mokuba in very poor health. I was puzzled by my mother's harrowing death, but felt actual anger toward my brother's birth-it'd felt like he'd taken away the life of my mother's.'

The auburn-haired tot remained silent; now examining his legs swing to and fro restfully against the limbs of the whicker couch.

"What should I name her…Kohaku?"

His timorous, dithering pitch--a whispered trill amongst almost a thicket of a grand choir--gained on itself with regard to his mother's pensive tone. "It's a boy."

She cocked one brow rather playfully. "Oh? And who told you this?"

"God told me so. He said I was gonna get a little baby brother. A baby brother with long, black hair like mommy's an' big, gray eyes like the clouds on a rainy day."

'My father, however, was angry. Seated in my mother's bedside, staring toward the ceiling almost accusingly. No one offered me any comfort. I was ushered off by a group of general practitioners, scolded and told to watch Mokuba for the time being. And, being the preschooler I was, I felt emotions pouring into me. Things I'd never felt so strongly before…confusion…indignation…anger toward the so-called merciful God my mother had always read to me about from her hardbound Bible during my visits to the clinic. I remembered her lullabies with indications to God's love and warmth and allusions of His past marvels--yet, I only felt hate that night.'

She decided to play along with her child's little game. "Hmm…gray eyes and black hair, huh? What do we name him then?"

He pondered it for a moment, pixie-like nose scrunched up in earnest thought. "Um…Mo--mo…"

"Moku--?"

Seto chuckled and glimpsed toward his mother donning a jovial, seldom grin. "Mokuba!"

She laughed, delighted by her toddler's enthusiasm. "What a beautiful name…Mokuba it is, then!"

'But, it seems all like a lost cause now. I can't dwell on the past.'

XXX