Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: Italic words in conversation are for emphasis, italic words outside of quotation marks are thoughts. Rated for profanity, reference to violence and bodily injury, as well as mind games in general. As noted before, rating may change as the story progresses. For future reference, any specifically sensitive material will be listed here first. This chapter has no further content of that nature.


Chapter Three: Obstacles


Time rushed on, piercing and candid. There was not so much as a window to let in sunlight, and though their captivity had happened in a few short days, it already hung like eternity around their aching limbs.

"This is suicide." Kaiba pressed.

"So is starvation." Joey countered, numbness had begun to settle in his legs from sitting so long on cold stone, it was either that or pace the cell in maddening repetition, trying to track minutes with footsteps.

"Do you want to be a fucking zombie?" The CEO snapped. Thoroughly accustomed to the distinct isolation of business, it was not confinement but helplessness that had begun to wear on him.

"Quit bein' dramatic, would ya?" Strong fingers drove unnatural part-lines into his blonde hair, "I need out just as bad as you." Breath sunk low and tight in his chest, "I got a sister back home struggling to be strong for her mother, I can't go dyin' a martyr in some whack-job's basement."

"We just need time to figure a way out of here." Kaiba's voice dropped to a low pitch that crawled across the stone-brick creases in the walls. Both Kyoshi and Makoto were asleep in their seats, the younger snoring quietly with one hand plastered to the pistol in his right pocket. Still, they had to be careful. "This is the worst thing we could possibly do. If we give him what he wants it's only going to escalate."

"This is Pegasus not Gandhi." Yugi reminded the brunet, "Things will escalate no matter what we do, the only difference is how much we suffer along the way."

"So you're saying we should trust this lunatic not to spike the food?" A hand unconsciously moved to rest on his stomach, which still churned in protest of the past night's abuse, but he willed himself to be still. "We've determined this whole thing is a power play and you idiots want to sit down to dinner with someone who just shot me up with god-knows-what? Going up there means an endless cycle of drugs to induce sickness and drugs to stop sickness until we're too stupid from exhaustion or damaged from exertion to fight back."

"He only did that to you because I tried to get away." Mokuba bit back the tears that welled behind his eyes, "He made an example out of you for when we do go up there on open ground."

"Regardless –"

"Not regardless." Tristan interjected, "If Pegasus wanted us dead he could've done it a long time ago and avoided a lot of headache and speculation. From what Mokuba says we have more reason to believe not going along with this makes it harder on everyone."

Seto's shoulders tensed, his posture straight and proper with the aura of high society men. His heart beat loud and strong in his ears, leaving a building heat in his veins, "Fine." He spit before he could force himself to be collected, "But don't forget that as of right now we're on the losing end of the game."

Bakura's eyes came dangerously alive at the thought, "Maybe we just forgot how to play."

Makoto stirred, sucking in too deep a breath and clearing his throat uncomfortably before settling back into his previous position on the chair. Head in hand, eyes closed heavily behind his sunglasses. In a few moments, if they were quiet enough, he would be asleep again.

"We don't have to give him everything." He continued in a whisper, "We just have to make him think we're doing what he wants. If we can get inside his head before the reverse happens to us, the least it'll earn us is a trump card."

"How do you expect us to deceive a mind reader?" Tristan inquired. Kaiba opened his mouth to reply that Pegasus was merely a cheat, but instead ran a finger along the cool floor, tracing the letters of Mokuba's name in neat, invisible lines.

"Yugi managed it in his duel, didn't he?" Ryou looked directly across the corridor into Yugi's cell. The smaller boy was on his side, palm flat against his cheek as a cushion.

"With my millennium puzzle and the spirit inside," he reminded the other, "But my puzzle's gone now. It's true that you and the others pushed him out for a little while, but if he keeps us worn down like this, I don't know if…"

"Don't think that way." Tea cut in, "It worked before and it'll work again." She swallowed a tiny sip of water from the newly opened second bottle, letting the coolness spill across her like autumn rain, leaving a shiver stuck somewhere between her neck and spine.

"It's the best chance we've got." Joey agreed.

"What'd you say Kaiba?" Yugi asked, pushing himself into a sitting position, "No matter the extent you participate, if your mind is vulnerable he will invade it, and we'll lose everything."

He looked to his little brother, imagining the small body that used to curl definitively against the edges of his thinning frame, a sticky heat wave against him in the night, "What do you think, Mokuba?"

It felt almost like betraying Seto to take their side, but in truth he was desperate for any glimpse of the outside world, "It's something at least."

Seto cleared his throat quietly, "Well, it's practically unanimous." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, keeping them trained on Mokuba and the dirt at his hairline, "What do we have to do?"

"Unfortunately someone has to be the guinea pig, it would be too obvious if we all started in at once, and even now I'm not talking about doting on him. We just need the most believable person to maintain complete civility, never raise your voice, occasionally meet his eyes, do things that lead him to believe he's gaining your trust."

"Pegasus is a natural sneak." Kaiba reminded the other, "As much as I hate to admit it, he's perceptive even without that damn eye, he'll catch on right away."

"It's fine if he's suspicious of the behavior, he just can't guess the real reason behind it. That's why the only person who can pull this off…is Yugi."

"Me?" He blurted out, hands immediately rising to cover his mouth at the loudness of his own voice, "What the hell?"

"We're all too obviously distrusting of him to test the waters. I hate to use this as leverage, but with your grandfather still hidden away somewhere, you're the only one with a plausible motive for feigning trust or trying to establish it. Otherwise he'll be onto us."

Violet eyes swam with thoughts, pondering this for a long moment, "I don't understand." He admitted at last, "I should distrust him the most being that he has my grandpa."

"No, no." Bakura replied, "You just have to give him enough reason to believe that you're trying to get on his good side for your grandfather's sake. You're not going to make yourself obvious, like I said before; you don't have to dote on him,"

The plan took its shape, "I see." Yugi mused, browns knitting together in contemplation, "And once that's happened?"

"Then the rest of us slowly start to follow your lead, we'll have to work out the order so it seems like you convinced us to do it. Then things can only escalate in our favor."

This time it was Tristan who spoke up, clearly skeptical. Though he didn't get the feeling the spirit of the ring was around, he knew better than to trust Bakura completely without being able to guarantee the absence of the demonic presence, "How does this benefit us?"

"Look, the only thing we've got going for us is the fact that Pegasus is a complete narcissist, if we can pull this off so he thinks he's got us under his spell, he'll get cocky like always, and slip up. If he thinks we're submitting because Yugi's grandpa is his ace in the hole, he'll still exploit our submission for his own gain, expanding on it with whatever mind game he has planned for our ultimate end anyway. If my suspicion is right, and he plans to keep us as trophies, he'll lead us into trusting him implicitly, needing him, fawning over him, and once we've reached that point we'll just have to hope the trust he puts in us is equal to the trust we're supposedly being manipulated into giving him."

"And?" Kaiba pressed, still unconvinced.

"The other pro to narcissism, in this case, is that he won't want to keep us a secret once he's made us into puppets. He'll want to show us off, even if it's just to the help. We won't be in a dungeon forever and he's already made that clear with the invitation to the dining hall." He paused to move closer to the edge of his cell, "What we're after is a chance. A door, a window, a moment of indiscretion, because deep down Pegasus is only human, and I don't know about you, but I don't care who's fucking island it is, if I get outside these walls I'm going home. It just takes one of us to blow this out of the water."

"What are the chances all of us will escape? If he catches us after something like that..." Tristan trailed off, unable to think about the possible consequences.

"We take that risk no matter what. It's better to face him with a plan than with nothing. If we stay strong together, if we honestly commit to an all-or-none effort, we have the best chance of getting out of here alive."

Thoughts of the apparition practically prying Mokuba's body from his chest had planted deep seeds of doubt in Tristan, he was half afraid Bakura would make them pawns in a losing game to get himself to safety…and then what would they do? Either way, they were at the mercy of someone he dared not test alone. For all his suspicions and apprehension, he knew this was an inevitable risk, but Bakura had to be watched. Closely.

"Are we starting tonight?" Yugi asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

"The sooner the better if you think you can manage it."

The smaller boy nodded and moved to lay down again, this time on his back. "I need a few hours to get my mind straight but don't worry, I'll be ready." The rest of the room came alive with the hum of movement and voices; he pressed both hands over his ears and tried to block out the world.


At four thirty there was a guard for each of them. Phantoms aligning the cells with hardened faces and brass keys tucked away deeply in pockets. In pairs they led them away from the prison-like abode, Kaiba counted the steps down every corridor, memorizing the turns in the path to freedom. Ahead of him, he knew it was all Joey could do to keep himself from tearing away and making a mad dash for the exit.

His eyes drifted momentarily to his brother, he was dirty and his clothes hung awkwardly on his small frame, too big across his chest and thighs. Somewhere in him he felt a tugging sense of anxiety and compassion for the blonde that led his way into the dining hall. He had heard brief mentions of an operation, of savable eyesight with the correct doctors and deadlines…but he couldn't trouble himself with that now. If there was one thing he knew of the Motou clan, aside from their annoying sense of empathy, it was their loyalty to one another. The plan had been made between friends, there was no question Joey would uphold it.

He kept his eyes trained straight ahead as he was corralled into a seat beside Tristan and across from Mokuba. It was all he could do to distract himself from Pegasus's cherry wood gaze at the head of the table.

"Good evening." Tea folded her hands in her lap to keep from shivering at the sound of his voice. "Come now, such honored guests mustn't be quiet at the dinner table." He scanned the group of them menacingly as servers adjusted their empty place settings. "In any case you're all a bit early, I think a party game is in order." He clapped his hands in apparent delight, "How long do we have dear?" He had stopped a young maid, who smiled pleasantly down at him, ignoring the madness of circumstance.

"About forty five minutes sir."

"Perfect! We can get straight to business." He paused for a drink, "I'd offer, but you're all a bit young for that." They sat unmoving, the plan dictated civility, some level of mutual conversation, but Yugi was quickly beginning to realize that pleasantries were not as easily offered as they were planned.

His eyes focused so acutely on the scenery through the window he thought he caught the coolness of a breeze somewhere above and behind him. The sun was low on the horizon, casting trails of orange and maroon through the darkening sky. He could feel the distinct dampness of air after autumn rain against his body, clinging like a second skin to his neck and shoulders. There were guards against the wall to either side of the four floor length portals to the outside world, but even still he wanted nothing more than to leap through them, not to escape – not without grandpa, just to soak up the life outside the smothering walls of Duelist Kingdom.

"Yugi-boy." Pegasus drawled in thick American accent, grating elongated vowels that made the teen practically ooze disgust. "It's not polite to daydream." He offered once the younger had chanced a look in his direction. For a moment the strong gaze left him paralyzed, breath catching in his throat as he pondered the irreversible damage done in carelessness.

He broke away, stealing a sideways glance at Seto, whose cold thoughts were screaming, you're screwing this up already.

"You're right." He said at last, narrowing his eyes to the pristine white plate in front of him, counting the utensils on either side.

"Then why the appalling display, kiddo?"

Yugi tried to stay focused, scrambling for an excuse before settling on a certain degree of honesty to quell suspicion, "I was thinking about the weather. It's not as warm as Japan in September."

"October." The elder corrected with another sip of wine, curiously inspecting the violet eyed boy.

He didn't know how to respond, he kept his attention on the plate in front of him, entirely smooth, seemingly never touched by silverware let alone food. Focus. He kept telling himself, but he was already feeling trapped, and he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this, he couldn't

"And what do you do in warm weather."

"Go to the beach?" Yugi replied questioningly, unsure of how to answer.

"No." Pegasus's fierce look pulled his eyes away from the silent refuge of oblivion, "Not what tourists do, what you do, specifically."

The smell of browned meat temporarily ensnared him; the plate had been filled almost the second he had taken his eyes off of it, pasta with chicken and spinach, artisan bread and enough fruit juice to get sick on. His mouth watered in growing anticipation of the feast.

"I would just be with my friends." He forced himself to answer, using every ounce of self-control not to reach for the (wrong) fork and stab it down into the noodles, "I remember once when I was very young my mother took me to the park for a whole afternoon and taught me to catch a baseball." He smiled at the thought of the warm morning, bright enough to leave him blinking against the light as he searched, squinting and scrambling for the ball. He laughed softly, "That's one of my earliest memories with her. I hadn't thought about it for a long time."

Beside him Bakura almost cheered with happiness, everything was going perfectly, the conversation was rough at first but effortlessly casual now, no doubt helped along by memories that came without having to think. It was always more natural when he didn't have to coax himself to hold a topic. The happiness was painfully short-lived; however, as something in their host had changed almost immediately.

His gaze had darkened, vice grip threatening to snap the stem of his outlandishly expensive wine glass. The tension was so thick it was suffocating; panic overwhelmed them one by one as he sat in silent rage at the head of the table. There was no telling what had set him off, but they half expected him to yank the table cloth violently forward, sending china crashing to the floor in a mess of steaming alfredo sauce.

"Eat!" He spat, throwing down the napkin he had folded on his lap and disgustedly sweeping out of the room.

Yugi paled gravely. Though the food had tempted him so thoroughly just moments before, he was too sick to think of touching it, "I didn't mean it." He murmured. Listless eyes had pooled with tears, and he blinked, eyelids crushing together in defeat as his face contorted to stifle the sob.

"Should we…do something?" He heard a gruff voice ask to his left.

I didn't mean it!

"He told them to eat." The other said sternly, Joey recognized that voice as Croquet's.

Grandpa, I'm so sorry. Now everything is…now…everything is… The sob cracked out into the silence surrounding the table.

Ruined.


A ballad of shattered glass rang out through the master suit, "Damn it!" His arm jerked spastically, books on the dresser crashing to the floor amidst fragments of an antique vase. His breaths came in short, violent tremors to match the shaking of his limbs, his blood pressure soaring as he ground glass into carpet fibers. A picture frame collided with the wall, chipping the fern paint. Eventually his body began to feel the effects of exertion and he collapsed, still shaking viciously, onto the soft comforter of his bed.

"No." He moaned out into the stillness, chest heaving and throat burning with short, quick breaths of air. "No, no, no…" Both hands rose to his face, trying to make this real. As he adjusted to the rhythm of his gradually slowing respiration, the tremors dulled into tiny feverish whispers beneath his skin.

How could I have missed this…how could I not have foreseen it? He practically choked on the irony. The one detail most essential to the plan had evaded even the millennium eye he cherished so deeply. The duelists had not simply been created from thin air, but still…he had focused too heavily on the Kaibas, whose only glimpse of family was an abusive stepfather and the fading figments of birth parents they were too young to remember having. And Yugi…Yugi lived with his grandfather in a shack…he had never seen any glimpse of a woman in the boy's mind or memories. Joseph…he had an incubator, he did not live with her, did not know her, did not know how to care for her outside of society's dictated loyalty to family. The relationship had never been nurtured, it was not a problem.

He let out a low groan of fury at the completely innocent, unspoken detail he could never have prepared himself for. There was a violent, mocking thump in his head and he almost ripped the cursed eye from his skull in protest of the horrible injustice of it all. Even if it had been Tea or Bakura who posed the problem, it was an easy fix. They were passionately emotional like most people their age, but relatively flat, even moldable in that regard. They were bleeding hearts who enveloped everyone with the same trust and compassion, not a stitch hardened or selective. But Yugi? The fiercely loyal, once bullied natural recluse, he would not be so easily persuaded to accept the most inevitable factor of all.

He rose from the bed to collect the picture, the supporting piece on the back had snapped and lay ignored against the engraved floor molding. His lips fluttered against the broken glass obscuring her face, pressing their warmth to the softness of her honeycomb curls.

"I've fumbled darling." He murmured darkly, removing the picture from the frame and placing it in the corner of his mirror, "It doesn't matter if they never see me the way we imagined." He continued, pacing the length of the oak chest of drawers, fingers trailing its edge as he walked, up and back, up and back. "But everything has to be perfect for you; you shouldn't have a flicker of reservation in all this, no worry, not a single second thought." He brushed his silver hair out of his face for a moment, caressing the metal that had replaced flesh, "This means I have to wait longer to have you back with me." His voice broke, hand wiping tears from his line of vision before they had the chance to leave trails against his skin, "But when we are reunited at last, you will not have to fight a moment for the adoration you deserve. By the time I have all I need; you will be the only woman for that role."

He moved to the door, turning one last time, now to address her portrait above his bed, "Forgive me love." He implored, the handle turning to signal his leave, "They were not supposed to have mothers."


Several employees lurked as he left his bedroom, "Clean the mess." He ordered, descending the stairs to the main level and heading straight for the dining hall. The dead silence of the room unnerved him as he approached, "So help me – " He began to fume, but before he could finish, it struck him.

Yugi Motou was sobbing. Not sniffling, not crying softly into a napkin, but sobbing hysterically with his face in his hands to disguise the tears. His body shook as he wailed. The ugly, sickening sound pulled at the deepest fathoms of Pegasus's heart. This was not ordinary fear or frustration, but utter despair. The master of estate stood in awe, entirely deflated by the spectacle. The child's agony had pacified any anger that before had been silently coaxing him to leave them all to rot and start over new.

"Yugi-boy." He sang, fingers around the back of his chair, "Whatever is the matter?"

The rest of the group, who had no doubt been forced to ignore the other's breakdown, fixed their anger on the host, almost daring him to make a move. Yugi started a bit at the close proximity, but did little more to acknowledge him.

"Stop your crying." Then, savagely, "what would your mother say?" Kyoshi began to approach from the side opposite Yugi, seeing the boy's continued antics as defiance. Every hired man in the room knew this was a mistake, "You stay out of this, you're just here as a body; until and unless I tell you to do something, stand in the corner and stare at the ground like the dog you are. You fucking coward."

The room was immobilized by both fear and fascination. Pegasus knew talking to Yugi would do no good; wordlessly he pulled the boy's chair back from the table and began to probe his mind. Thoughts were no less muddled than words, he realized. A swarm of images attacked him at once, the boy's mother playing with him as an infant, a soundless laugh, needles, and vomiting, and shrieking toddlers. Wrinkled hands helping him to walk, guiding an emaciated body onto a baseball field, clutching a ball against its hand to toss to Yugi. A real laugh this time. A child's.

A dugout. Curious eyes. Needle, vein, high, the nagging voice of the grandfather at his back, guilt and resentment, and then a grave – a grave – a grave. He all but crumpled to his knees, arms surrounding Yugi in a rush of relief as the others watched in horror and confusion. At the gesture, a small sense of hope stirred inside Yugi too.

"Hush."

He moved his hands from his face, only to have his gaze travel instinctively downward to the red suited shoulder his chin was pressed against and resting on. Pegasus was holding him, comforting him, and he let slip a wonderfully dangerous thought, this is not the end.

"That's it." The elder encouraged, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, "You really are a stubborn one, aren't you?" He continued, "I told you to eat."

Relief was flooding and sweet, there was still hope for grandpa, still hope for all of them. He laughed, "I'm sorry."

Pegasus pressed a kiss against the blonde hairline, holding it there for a fleeting moment as he too came to his senses. "Eat your supper." He instructed sternly, moving to his spot at the head of the table, "I'm sure the boys would hate to tuck you in on empty stomachs." He tossed the men in question a new ring of keys, and turned his attention to his plate.

Joey reminded himself how important it was that neither side forget the glaring motives of the other. No matter how convincing Pegasus's actions became, they were still only compassionate in the sense of being temporarily devoid their usual malice. This was not, and would never be kindness for the sake of being kind. The last inkling of fairness in the game relied on the instinct of playing to win. If even one of them fell victim to the charade, the fortress they had scrounged in togetherness would cave in on them, wilting in the creator's fingers until it crumbled. While Tea and Tristan rejoiced at being granted reprieve from the dungeon so soon, he, Seto, and Bakura worried that what awaited them behind new doors may be unspeakably worse.

Aside from even that, Joey could not help but grapple with the fact that the gleam in Pegasus's eye during Yugi's hysteria looked strangely like…bliss.


Additional Notes: I am not too familiar with the Yugioh manga; as such I don't know anything about Yugi's mother. He drug-addicted past is not meant to be canon, just as the premise of this story is not meant to be canon. Thank you for reading, feel free to rant, review, etc.