Here's chapter 3! And the first spirit! It's a lot longer than the other chapters so far, but it's supposed to be! Enjoy! I don't own YuGiOh.

Edit: Well, the story's half revised. I realize that probably no one's reading this anymore, but still, it's bugging me to leave it the way it was.

Chapter 3

Kaiba felt something tapping him on the shoulder. Sleepily, he brushed it off. The tapping continued. He groaned, annoyed at the sensation.

"Come on, sleepy-head," said a female voice. "Get up."

Startled, Kaiba bolted up. Beside his bed, he saw a spiky-haired brunette with green eyes. She was wearing a white dress with green trim, and she seemed to be glowing. She also seemed pleased that he was awake.

"Who are you?" Kaiba demanded. "What do you want?"

The girl giggled. "Didn't Gozaburo warn you that I was coming? I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Kaiba blinked. "'Ghost of Christmas Past? What does that mean?"

"It means," she explained, "that you're about to relive some events in your past. Preferably events pertaining to Christmas." She said all of this as though she thought him a fool, as if he didn't understand what "Christmas" or "past" meant. Kaiba felt anger welling up inside him. He wanted to get this girl out of his house, now.

"Get lost. I don't care what you want, just get out of my sight!"

She sighed. "I see we're doing this the hard way. Fine by me; makes it more fun!"

The ghost grabbed Kaiba's arm and pulled him out of the bed. "Let me go!" He wasn't about to get abducted by an annoying girl.

"Sorry, no can do. If you would just cooperate, then this would be so much easier."

The ghost dragged Kaiba over to the window and opened it, which is when Kaiba realized what she was doing. "You're insane!" he cried.

"Maybe," the ghost said, "but what does it matter? You're coming with me either way."

"Are you trying to kill me!? This is the second floor!"

The girl didn't answer. Still holding his hand, she jumped out the window. No—not jumped—floated, just like his stepfather had done. Groaning, Kaiba wondered when this dream was going to end. It was quickly growing tiresome.

"So, Seto Kaiba, let's see what happened to you on Christmas in the past. Because that's what the Ghost of Christmas Past does." Kaiba was really getting sick of this girl. He wanted to hit her so badly.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I do know this: Spirits don't exist! There's no such thing as a ghost of Christmas past! So if you think I believe anything that you're telling me, you've got another thing coming."

The ghost rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. Believe what you want to believe. And, if you insist on being stubborn, then call me Mana." Kaiba was pleased to hear that she sounded at least mildly annoyed. At least she wasn't the only one with the power to annoy.

Mana landed them outside of a building that Kaiba found all to familiar, and not in a good way. "This is the orphanage I got dumped at when my parents died."

"That's right, Kaiba. And look, there you are," Mana said, pointing to a younger version of Kaiba on the playground.

"This isn't possible," Kaiba said. "What kind of trick is this?"

Mana didn't answer. She just led Kaiba over to the playground where his younger self was. There was a young boy with long black hair playing with him. Kaiba recognized the boy instantly.

"Mokuba..."

"Cute little kid. How old would he be now, 11? 12?"

"Something like that."

Mokuba and the young Kaiba were playing in the sand. Neither one of them seemed bothered by the cold, December weather.

"Seto, do you think Santa visits the orphanage?" Mokuba asked; he was only about five years old at the time. To him, that was the biggest problem about living at the orphanage.

"Sure he does, Mokuba," Seto answered. "If you've been good, he'll find a way to get your presents to you."

Mokuba's face lit up. "Really?"

"You bet."

"That was sweet of you. I'm surprised, Kaiba."

"Shut up. That's my brother. What else was I going to do?"

"Well, you could have told him that there's no such thing as Santa and he should grow up, that the two of you were on your own now, that you couldn't rely on the promise of a fat man in a red suit coming and giving you presents."

"I couldn't do that. Not to Mokuba."

"And why is that?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you, Mana!"

"That's just a way of saying that you don't even know, isn't it?"

Kaiba didn't answer her. He just kept watching his younger self playing with Mokuba.

"So, what happened between the two of you anyway?" Mana asked.

"We were adopted. Our stepfather cast his old, bratty son aside to raise me to be his heir. Our stepbrother hated me, but he sympathized with Mokuba—the other unwanted child in the Kaiba mansion. They spent a great deal of time together, which worked for me. Mokuba had our stepbrother, and I had to work."

"So you lost your baby brother to your drive to work yourself to death."

"Think what you want. I've seen enough."

Mana shook her head, saying, "Not yet, you haven't. We still have so much more to see, Kaiba." She took his hand, and they traveled through time to another Christmas.

"Now where are we?" Kaiba asked, gazing around. It looked like his mansion, except the décor was entirely out of place. There was garland and holly and mistletoe and all sorts of other Christmas things that Kaiba didn't believe in. The place looked the way it did when his stepfather had decided to throw a party.

"That fateful Christmas party, where your life almost changed forever," Mana answered.

Startled, Kaiba stared at her. "You mean to tell me," he started, "that this is the night I met—?"

Just then, a girl walked past. She had long, white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes that Kaiba had ever seen. The gown she was wearing for this party was as white as her hair, and it fit her slim figure perfectly. The skirt was gathered at the waist before flowing down to her ankles, and the sleeves hung off her shoulders.

A slightly younger version of Kaiba was watching this girl, and at that moment plucked up the courage to talk to her. Kaiba remembered how that felt; she was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. He couldn't stand the thought of rejection by such a gorgeous woman.

"Excuse me," said the young Kaiba, "my name is Seto. Would you care to dance, miss?"

Smiling, the girl took his hand. "Of course, Seto. I'm Kisara. It's nice to meet you."

"Aren't you two adorable?" Kaiba wanted so bad to hit that spirit. She was really starting to get on his nerves. "Isn't she the daughter of one of your competitors?"

"That's right. And to this day, I don't know what she was doing at that party." Kaiba didn't want to talk about Kisara. He knew how this story ended, after all, and he would rather not think about it.

The younger Kaiba and Kisara danced the night away. Kaiba couldn't remember the last time he had had that much fun. After the party, the two of them made plans to see each other again.

And they had. Gozaburo had died soon after the new year started, and Kaiba had been free to see Kisara whenever he liked. He watched himself sitting with her by the fire at another Christmas. The two of them were so involved with each other, they didn't notice little Mokuba spying from the hallway, or even the small pebbles that Noah occasionally threw at Kaiba's head, trying to get a reaction from him.

The next image wasn't so pleasant.

Kaiba was sitting at his desk, working. The calendar showed that it was December 24th, and the clock told him that it was 11:00. Kisara entered the room as Kaiba continued to work.

"Seto," she said, "it's Christmas eve. Why don't you take a break for awhile? At this rate, you'll work straight through Christmas."

That was a joke, but Kaiba didn't seem to notice. "Sorry, Kisara. There's too much work to be done. I don't have time to take off."

Kisara frowned. "Seto, what's gotten into you? You've been acting strangely for some time now. Mokuba says that you spend all your time working. Why is that?"

"You wouldn't understand, Kisara! I have a company to run! I don't have time for your silly holidays!"

Tears welled up in Kisara's eyes, but Kaiba was oblivious. "Is that what you think it is? A silly holiday?"

No response from Kaiba.

"Well, if you don't have time for my 'silly holidays,' then I suppose you don't have time for me either."

Kaiba stood up, saying, "That's not what I meant. I only meant that, to provide the best for you—for us—I need to focus on work. I want you to have the best, and only the best."

"Seto, all I really want or need is you."

"You say that now, but wait until we don't have anything but the clothes on our backs. That's exactly what will happen if I don't focus on work!"

"You sound like my father."

Kaiba sat down again, getting back to work. "Think what you want."

Kisara was quiet for a moment. "Seto," she finally asked, "are you really working so hard for me? Or is this because you've become obsessed with money?"

Kaiba ignored her. That was all the answer Kisara needed.

"No, you fool," Kaiba tried to tell himself. "Don't let her think that. Say something!"

Kisara shook her head. "Goodbye, Seto." With that, she ran from the room.

"I've seen enough," Kaiba told Mana. "Why are you showing me this? It's not my fault she took that so personally!"

Mana shook her head. "She didn't overreact, Kaiba. You were too busy for her, and you told her so right there. Being too busy to take the time to spend a 'silly holiday' with her says quite a bit about you. It also shows just how money-obsessed you've become. 'I need to work so we can have things because material objects are way more important than people.'"

Kaiba glared at her. "What do you know?"

"More than you ever will, with that kind of an attitude," she huffed. "Well, Kaiba, that's all I've got to show you. I'll send you home now, so you can pretend that this is all some sort of crazy dream until the next spirit arrives."

The next thing Kaiba knew, he was back in his bed. Looking around, he saw no sign of Mana, or "the Ghost of Christmas Past," or whatever she wanted to call herself.

"I knew it," Kaiba muttered. "It was all just some crazy dream."

That's when he heard a loud noise downstairs.