Wow... it's been a while! Luckily it's spring break now, so I have lots of catching up to do! I'm apologizing to Melzart for forcing her to put up the other two chapters and then... not doing them. _ My fault! My body is... wacko. Anyway, let's try to rectify this month-long absence, alright?
It's time for more of the Appearances translation (property of Melzart, Yugioh being property of Kazuki Takahashi.) Sorry if it's strained, I did it over the past *month*, especially the last three-fourths; I'll get back into it as well as back into writing in general. Stupid fic ideas haunting me every living day. Sheesh!
And of course, let's not forget about the 11 March 2011 8.9 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. My heart, and I'm sure all of the hearts of all writers on this site, go out to the nation and hope for its speedy recovery. This hits close to me in a weird way; in my Trebuchet fic, I wrote it under several assumptions about Kaiba's past that I may or may not write into a sequel. Anyway, one of those was his hometown - Naraha, Futaba Prefecture, chosen due to a slight accident (with fictionalized death) at a nearby nuclear power plant in the late 80's which I could use for where his father worked. Today, I learned there's a chance that nuclear reactor may leak. Talk about odd. So think of Kaiba, too.
Chapter 9
Days of Haze
. . .
Cruel. They had proved themselves to be horribly, abominably cruel, true tormentors incapable of the slightest pity.
And why so much cruelty? To destroy him.
And they had succeeded.
The great Seto Kaiba had been annihilated.
He had slipped from his chair, fallen to his knees at her bedside, incapable of the slightest reaction, eyes fixed on the sheets.
It wasn't the chaotic vision of the mostly-whipped body that he could not bear to see; it was the shame at his inability, his failure to protect her. He was guilty, from the bottom of his heart.
He was demolished. Completely, utterly demolished, conscious that nothing in the world would be able to appease his murdered soul. All the horrors she had taken in his name. For his company.
Yes, they had succeeded.
Naomi wasn't moving, stretched out like a human log in his large bed; he hadn't wanted her to be separated from him and he had shot down the idea that she even find herself in an adjoining room, convinced that was kilometers too far away. It was stupid and completely false. But close to him, nothing could happen to her.
Her recovery was going to be long, and most likely difficult. He knew that, too. But no matter how long, he would be there for her.
His hand lightly grasped Naomi's, who did not react, currently in the serenity offered by sedatives. At least he was happy that her suffering would be reduced; she would not be in pain whilst she slept.
Kaiba's bedroom had been expanded into a small 'medical headquarters' of sorts, solely to look after her wounds. He would have never accepted her staying in some isolated room in the hospital.
And, for the first time in his life, Kaiba did not go to work; for several days now, he barely did anything but fiddle with his smart phone, sometimes far into the night if he had trouble finding sleep. And when he did, drained of energy, he would spring awake several instants later to keep up his guardianship of Naomi. The vision of that sadist brutalizing her with delight wrenched his heartstrings and filled him with a rage that nothing could calm. He began to dream with his eyes open. It was stronger than he was.
So he turned his "special" attention to the tormentor himself, personally ensuring that he suffered in the same way and in the same warehouse under Roland's supervision who, against his normal nature, took the greatest of care in carrying out his orders. He had even told Kaiba – maybe just to please him – that the smell was becoming intolerable, tenacious as the odor of blood was. For blood flowed, in small amounts. And Kaiba had promised that his punishment would last a long time, if not forever.
Yes, he would make him pay dearly. Cruelly. With the worst of punishments that could exist. He found no remorse in that.
Nor any relief.
"Mercy! Mercy!" the thug had screamed once he had discovered what was to happen to him.
"And you, you son of a bitch? Did you have mercy on her?"
Kaiba had held his dark glare and hadn't the hesitation to punch him hard, as if he were trying to make up for lost time.
I am many things, I'll admit that… but I am not a murderer, he remembered having told Naomi at the restaurant, their first night together.
Not one of those words made any sense to him anymore: that bastard could die there, underneath Kaiba's shadow, and Kaiba would not feel the slightest regret. To be responsible for the death of such a repulsive person would never have affected his tranquility of mind. Ever. Not now.
No. That bastard would never leave that building alive. Not even an inch. Had he not sealed his destiny when he dared touch her?
Of course, Naomi wouldn't die from her wounds, not even over time like that mangy dog. But it would take weeks for her to recover physically; and with everything that had already occurred, he was afraid of further consequences.
Who gave a fuck about the consequences? He was still, and always would be, there.
Thus, at his demand, the doctors had put her into a very long sleep. He hoped it would be beneficial. It was the best thing to do. At least he hoped so: he didn't want to run the risk of her waking up completely disoriented and then having a panic attack once she saw the state she was in.
Even he would never have recognized her due to the blisters on her face.
Yes, it was truly a very good thing that she was sleeping. At least until her face resumed its normal characteristics.
He didn't want her to suffer, as much as he could do so under his own power.
But what terrified Kaiba above all were all the wretched nightmares he could not save her from, despite his wealth, despite his power. Sometimes, eyes still shut, her body would begin to violently convulse under invisible beatings. And she groaned in pain. It was unbearable to watch her squirm. And he, the great Seto Kaiba, could do nothing about it.
Or very little.
He approached her, and by instinct delicately placed his hand upon hers… then, leaning over, murmured softly into her ear. As if he wished, by doing so, give her his own breath of life, the little courage that he still had. Because he could hide it all so well.
Curiously, she seemed to find some long-awaited rest: her body relaxed. He even thought he had seen her faintly smile at the sound of his voice.
And that had given him so much more pleasure than pain.
He persuaded himself that she knew he was near and she appreciated him for it.
No – nobody could separate them. Nobody except Mokuba, still shell-shocked, who could only look back painfully on what he had seen before his very eyes – he had been there, helpless, for the entirety of the sinister spectacle. And Seto understood that it was worse for his brother, as all Seto could do was imagine.
He had even tried to listen, knowing Mokuba would have great need to spill out all of his grief. But Kaiba had proved totally incapable of hearing any of it without feeling that violence wring his stomach again, urging him to smash everything and regurgitate the worst of his wrath.
He wasn't ready to listen. He wouldn't ever be.
So he had allowed Mokuba, instead, to stop all activities: to take a long vacation from school to pass some time at Naomi's bedside, under his own blank stare which made it seem as if life had stopped. The only thing that accompanied the odd family reunion of sorts was silence.
"You should get some rest, sir," said the attendant-now-on-duty who had come to occupy herself with Naomi's toilette and follow the instructions concerning her medical needs.
Kaiba looked at her but didn't speak.
"She won't wake up for several more days, sir," she attempted to convince him, almost as if she were simultaneously asking for forgiveness for intruding upon his intimacy.
But Kaiba didn't even find the force to send her away, and did nothing but shift his gaze to Naomi.
If she hadn't seen the woman bedridden in Kaiba's bed, she never would have recognized the President of the Kaiba Corporation. Everything she could garner from the situation looked nothing like that being that was pitiless, arrogant, contemptuous, and hungry for power.
Without saying another word, she left.
When she came back, he still hadn't left the room, and appeared to want to respectfully investigate her as she applied further physical care to Naomi, and going back to business on his laptop when she was through. But he could saw, the second day, an enormous bruise on Naomi's abdomen – where that brute had hit her so hard it had broken several of her ribs. Incapable of taking his eyes off of her, then, he had noticed her thigh, where her first scar had been, looked worse than it had before due its own bruising, outlined by trace marks of where his fingers had been.
He had been so disgusted he had left the room.
Your bitch, Kaiba… I made a little beauty out of her… haven't I? And that cynical laugh which malicious reverberated around his eardrums…
He had arrived far too late.
In the corridor, a part of the wall had caved in under the force of his fist: he had hit it over and over without considering what he was doing to his fingers. Bitter, rage-laced tears, had even come up to his eyes. But the wall hadn't resisted his assault. And while there were now gaping holes to ruin the plaster uniformity of it all, he had gotten no relief from having done the damage.
. . .
Naomi…
Kaiba lay beside Naomi, turned in her direction. Softly, as if afraid of hurting her further and yet still wished to protect her, he wrapped his arm around her.
Her face had begun to deflate.
What would you say right now if you saw me so feeble and so powerless? You would make fun of me, wouldn't you? You would be right. I deserve it. I hope you…
"Sorry," he whispered into her ear just before sinking into a light sleep.
Mokuba, who was walking by, suddenly slowed when he saw the touching moment. He had known for a while now – Seto had finally met a force he couldn't match. But he preferred to leave them in private, and he returned, jubilant, back towards the living room.
"What a great photo that would have made!"
Kaiba was abruptly awoken by Naomi, apparently prey to another nightmare. She trembled, wiggling like a worm in her bed, from right to left, moaning weakly as if she were trying to keep all of her suffering inside of her.
He was trying to calm her when she began to deliriously murmur:
"…Alex…no…why are you hurting me... so badly?… stop…."
Tears were escaping from her closed eyes.
And she was shaking even more vigorously.
What could she be dreaming about? He didn't know. It didn't have anything to do with what had recently happened to her. Not this time. She was dreaming – or reliving, certainly – pieces of her past.
"Wait…"
But Naomi's body was wildly fidgeting, and the features on her face were stiffening as if she was being attacked.
It was more than he could handle.
Tenderly, he held his mouth to her ear, wrapped his arm tighter around her, his breath tickling her cheek.
"Sh…. I'm here Naomi. I'm here…"
As if she had heard him, she relaxed again, her suffering appearing to fade.
She sighed.
Kaiba's heart melted, snow filled with an indescribable warmth, when a very sweet smile crept onto Naomi's face.
"Seto," she breathed before falling back into a comfortable sleep.
She called my name.
Is that smile… for me?
. . .
Seto had to cave in to the evidence: that fucking company of his couldn't manage without his presence. He was thus obligated to leave the manor despite himself, and not without telling Mokuba what to do – amongst other things.
It had been more than a week and a half since he had stepped foot into his office and now he had the strange impression he had never been there before.
And all the unconcerned people left him beside himself, as if nothing had changed. As if the world hadn't stopped anywhere but in his own life.
He seemed idle, despite the lofty expression which never left him. Everyone saw that his mind was more than two steps behind. But fearing his wrath, no one dared to call him out on it. However, Kaiba was struggling against the weakness he didn't wish anyone would see, showing even more severity than normal in his orders. It was imperative he not seem a loser to anyone, so that the respect he imposed would continue to prevail.
And he had to stay strong, under all circumstances, particularly for Naomi, knowing she could awaken at any moment. It couldn't take any longer.
Mokuba was there, watching her with all of his zeal. This comforted him only slightly in the reality that he was separated from her.
Sadi, his secretary, entered to dump some more documents on his desk.
Kaiba scarcely raised his head. It bothered her even though she was doing her job: everything that approached him or fell into his line of sight seemed to ardently irritate him. But at each intrusion, he thought that he let nothing show of it, as he was fighting so valiantly to ignore it.
Sadi hesitated at the threshold, turning around again.
"You look exhausted, sir. Maybe- "
She believed she was only being nice, but she found herself under attack by the icy fury of Kaiba's gaze, which stopped her in her tracks.
"One more word and you're fired," he breathed angrily between his teeth.
She swallowed her pride with difficulty. Sure, she had known him years and was accustomed to his leaps and bounds in mood, although on the outside he seemed to keep a perfect self-mastery. This time, he didn't even have any place for compassion.
"Get out," he ordered dryly.
"Yes, sir. My apologies," she said as she rushed back to her own desk.
She would have started sobbing on the spot if she had forgotten that she was at work. In front of Kaiba, maybe, even. But it wasn't his misfortune that troubled her.
An aura of anger and extreme suffering hung around Kaiba's body like a perfume. She had smelled it upon arrival. He wasn't himself. Seeing him so destitute gave her the greatest of sorrows. Yes. Because she secretly "admired" him intensely, and, by the by, she held more than the greatest of respects for him.
. . .
Kaiba… bad… cloud… Kaiba…
Naomi felt that she was in the clouds, despite the pain that she felt all over her body. It hurt so much, everywhere, she asked herself if she was really not chopped up into pieces.
Sleep… I'll sleep… I'll get better…
But she didn't find the sorely needed rest.
And then she felt as if she wasn't alone again, like she was being watched.
With a magnificent effort, one eye opened slightly and then shut just as quickly, her vision clouded by an inconsistent haze.
It seemed to her then that her head might explode as she felt her heartbeat rise up past her temples.
I'll be…
Nauseous. If she moved or tried to open her eyes, she was certain that she'd vomit out of sheer dizziness.
No. It's okay…
Again, she took great care to open just one of them. Her vision cleared, little by little.
Mokuba beamed. A big smile was, he believed, what she'd like to see upon waking up.
She found herself in a bedroom, but she couldn't take it all in completely.
In a last effort, she managed to turn her head onto its side.
Mokuba was the first thing she focused on, and he looked visibly relieved.
"Where…" she murmured so feebly that Mokuba had to walk closer to hear her.
"You're at home with us. Everything's okay, don't worry," he said, as if he had guessed her thoughts far better than he could have heard them.
Her lips crinkled; she licked her lips, looking for something to cure the dryness.
"Oh! Wait!" Mokuba cried as he rushed off to find a glass of water.
' A few moments later, Mokuba cautiously put his arm underneath her head to lift her up slightly and help her to drink.
"Slowly," he said.
She wanted to thank him, but she could not form the words. Nothing could break through the palisade that her lips had formed; yet in her infinite bewilderment, so many questions seemed to be jostling together.
Just as softly, he placed her head back on the pillow.
Suddenly, she lurched up, prey to a perceptible worry.
"you… okay… not wou-…. Mok-…"
Taken aback, Mokuba again was forced to find her train of thought.
"Yes, I'm doing fine. Nothing's wrong, don't worry about me."
"Hmmm," she murmured, apparently satisfied with his response as she sank back downwards.
He wasn't sure if she was completely conscious; she seemed as if she could fall asleep at any given moment.
"Oh, wait," he said again, taking hold of his cell phone. "I'll call Seto."
This time, quite distinctly, he heard:
"No… not Kaiba."
Then the timbre of Naomi's face became inaudible once more.
"But my brother has to know that you've woken up, he'll want to see you-"
She cut him off with a painful sigh, closing her eyelids.
"No… won't see… now… won't see," she breathed before falling asleep.
Mokuba grew dismayed.
"Naomi. Naomi!"
But she had already returned to the kingdom of dreams.
He leapt up, intending to leave the room temporarily. Then, he dialed into his phone.
A voice could immediately be heard on the other side of the line.
"Kaiba."
"Seto!"
Kaiba froze.
"She woke up, Seto. But she went back to sleep again- "
"Alright. I'm coming."
He stood, the phone still on his ear, and Mokuba repeated:
"Seto!"
Kaiba kept quiet, conscious that something wasn't right.
"She doesn't want to see you."
Kaiba felt his muscles paralyze, and he blanched.
"I'm coming."
She doesn't want to see you.
She doesn't want to see you.
She doesn't want to
Kaiba aimed his lost stare through the limousine window.
You're a monster, Kaiba. And you know it. How could she ever forgive you?
He got ready despite himself, and despite all the hatred and contempt Naomi's eyes would shower him with upon her opening them. But he resigned himself to his fate; there were to be no mistakes until she was better. That was everything that mattered to him.
Too bad if, later, she would turn her back on him forever.
In the meantime, he was going to do everything, even if it harmed himself personally, so that her rehabilitation would pass by harmlessly. Quit enduring all the disdain she threw at him. It was his punishment. His sentence. And he was ready to accept every consequence.
But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, nor was he going to serve himself to her blindly. More than ever, he needed to appear strong. Always strong and forever stronger. He would eventually have to come to a screeching halt – but he was hoping that she wouldn't have to see the wreckage.
"Seto!"
Mokuba had walked in front of his brother at the entrance to his bedroom, as if to prevent him from going inside. In reality, he wanted to not let his brother suffer. Because he knew he was – more than anyone.
Kaiba showed no signs of anger.
"Mokuba… it'll be okay."
He then left the room, reticent, while Kaiba hesitantly approached the bed. He wasn't entirely reassured, never mind certain, that he had the courage to be rebuffed.
He stayed immobile for several minutes, eyes plastered with uncertainty and gnawed at from within by the penitence that repentance entailed.
Stay strong. You must.
Then suddenly his eyes gained an immutable coldness.
In his voice, you could still clearly hear all the weakness imprinted upon his heart.
"Naomi."
No response.
"Naomi," he repeated, louder.
Languorously, she fought to open her eyes, subject to the seemingly insurmountable weight of her eyelids.
"I'm here," he said, as if he hoped that his presence would bring her as much comfort as it apparently did in her dreams.
Still tormented, Naomi fought to remain conscious.
"Go away… don't… see… you," she managed to whisper.
No. Don't reject me, Naomi…
Kaiba's fists curled.
"Why?" he asked softly.
Oddly, she turned her head away, as if she didn't want him to see her any longer.
"Not… now," she continued babbling.
Go away. Please!
Kaiba remained thunderstruck.
"Tell me why."
Her voice stayed calm, but on the inside, a tempest was howling.
"… please… go."
She was suffering, and she maybe didn't understand the impact of her own words. And once again, he could do nothing, fists clenched, toes scrunched in.
At least he had heard her. And this sole thought put a bit of relief into his heart. He didn't need to do any more.
"What are you going to do?" he asked Mokuba, sitting at the table.
Kaiba took a moment to think.
"I don't know, Mokuba."
He was sick of it, and he sighed heavily.
He still hadn't managed to get any sleep last night, either. And Mokuba was worried about the heavy bags appearing underneath his eyes.
"I don't know. But while we wait, look after her as best you can. That's all I'm asking for. Alright?"
Mokuba nodded.
"Yes, big brother."
Then he left to go to work while Mokuba walked back up to Kaiba's bedroom.
He found her slightly more awakened, but just as numb and sluggish in her movements. She still hadn't moved thanks to her injuries: every time she tried to roll over, her ribs gave her so much pain she had to return almost immediately to the same supine position.
That's odd. That smell…
For the first time since her arrival, she had the leisure to inspect the room she found herself within more clearly. A very spacious bedroom; the curtains were pulled. She had the distinct impression that it rarely saw sunlight. How somber.
And that nice smell. Strong… but sweet.
A smell she knew she could distinguish from amongst a thousand, and of which she was intoxicated with desire.
Kaiba.
She would have doubtlessly thrust him from her thoughts but the memory was locked intact: he had arrived right as she was learning how to flinch, panting like a marionette between the hands of her abuser. She often remembered (vaguely, however) the moment where she was about to give up fighting, and Kaiba flew in from nowhere, terrible and menacing, an uncontrollable typhoon. Seeing him had done something that shocked her: despite the pain, and despite the shame, she had welcomed his arrival with warmth.
Only – and she was aware of this – she was still at his mercy now, lying in this immense bed with black sheets, semi-impotent. She didn't want him to see her in this state; she knew it must be quite bad. It was enough to not desire his presence.
The one thing she understood was that it wasn't worth it. It was already more than she should allow. She simply wasn't up to par to fight with him.
"Naomi!" Mokuba shouted, overjoyed to see her awake, even though she was still unsteady and fragile.
Naomi greeted him with a tender, comforting smile.
He rushed to her side, overflowing with joy.
"I'm so happy you woke up finally!"
She didn't answer this, still entangled in his energetic gesturing.
"Tell me how you're doing. Do you need something?"
"I have the impression that I have a balloon in each of my shoulders and that they're ready to explode," she confided with a half-grin.
Mokuba calmed a bit as she revealed her pain, becoming aware that all the worst may not have completely passed yet.
"I have to look hideous. Right?" she breathed, as if asking herself more than Mokuba.
She was devoured by his look of compassion.
"No. Anything but," he said softly, stopping himself from snickering.
She went to put her left hand on his forehead, but was stopped by what could have been a cloth of sorts. Her arm was in a sling.
Which reminded her of the hole that one man had made in her shoulder.
She instead tried to raise her other hand, but Mokuba foresaw the gesture and took it before it rose, uncertain of what words he should use.
I have to look like a monster. He doesn't know how to tell me.
Casually, he tried to play down his bout of vigilance as best as he knew how.
"Do you need anything? Oh, I'm such an idiot. You've got to be dying of hunger."
He was bound to be concealing something. But she preferred playing along.
"How long have I been here?" she asked him, voice low.
"It's been more than a week and a half," he resigned to admitting sadly.
"Oh," she sighed. "Did I sleep the entire time?"
She looked as if she were in anguish.
"Uh…" the sound dragged out. "Yeah…?"
This time, there was no doubt. She was in a state that was to grave for him to want to say or for him to want her to know about.
But before his worried, stricken gaze, she decided to play off of her own sickness, and bravely make fun of herself.
"I must have been out like a light," she said with a sort of half-laugh.
Strangely, Kaiba had returned back to the mansion, convinced he had left behind a very important document.
He had hurried for his office but he couldn't help following his footsteps up to the third floor, to his room, wanting to lay eyes on Naomi before leaving again.
He still hesitated to enter, held back by curiosity, and his eyes began to wander, staring into nothing.
"Tell me, Mokuba," she asked. "Where am I, exactly?"
Mokuba shifted his weight, suddenly flooded with a new sense of enthusiasm.
"Well, you're in our house. Seto didn't want you stay at some hospital, and-"
She interrupted him to ask another question.
"Who's bedroom is this?"
She knew the answer already, it seemed.
"Er… in fact," he began again with a cough, "it's Seto's…"
Seto's bedroom.
"Why…?" but she stopped herself before she asked the entire question.
Actually, she did understand now why she had felt better at the beginning.
She remembered maybe even having dreamt, those evenings where the nostalgia of her only 'contact' with him grew sharper in her memory.
So it's his smell.
But she gave the impression that she was annoyed by it instead.
Kaiba, on the other side of the door, was expecting a protest. But she didn't, to his happiness.
"Naomi," Mokuba asked her gravely. "Why don't you want to see my brother?"
Naomi closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if she were dreaming of what she was about to say.
"Oh," he sighed painfully. "He… hurt… you? Is that it?"
Kaiba's heart jerked violently in his chest.
"No," she murmured, stopping her lips from betraying her. "Never."
As if they were synchronized together, the two brothers sighed in relief.
Yet Mokuba was determined – without tiring her out too much – to investigate a little bit further.
"Are you mad at him? You think it's his fault, because- "
Kaiba's eyebrows furrowed until they practically touched at the center of his forehead. Her silence was weighing heavily on his conscience.
Naomi seemed to think for a moment before she decided to softly say:
"No."
Kaiba breathed for the first time in what must have been days, his heart relieved by what she had admitted.
But Mokuba didn't look convinced, asking himself instead what could possibly be the real reason, still locked up inside her mind.
Naomi tried to comfort the young man again, his face plastered with suspicion.
"No, Mokuba. Your brother never did me any harm."
With a tender smile she couldn't stop, she murmured:
"Actually…"
Kaiba clearly heard the confession. And he didn't quite know if he was more relieved than he was flooded with joy when he felt his hard beginning to beat more rapidly.
"So why don't you want to see him?... tell me."
Naomi looked as if she wanted to closet herself in again and stay silent – as if she had said too much.
Yeah. Why. Tell me, Kaiba thought, hooked to her every word.
"Naomi?" Mokuba pressed, shaking her out of what could have been a reverie of sorts.
She flinched back slightly, overwhelmed by the wish to close her eyes and relax under the weight of the fatigue that was menacing her.
"You're very close to him, aren't you," she muttered.
Mokuba's eyes lit up.
"Yeah! And nobody gets the chance to know him like me!" he shouted spontaneously.
It was beyond his control. Mokuba threw himself to the defense of the being he loved so dearly.
"Well.. I know that a lot of people think he's bad and mean, and he only thinks about himself, but that's completely false! He's got a lot of heart. He's the one person I admire the most in the whole world."
Kaiba didn't try to stifle his smile. He was touched: all the way, it seemed, to the tips of fingers. He felt the same way about Mokuba.
"And you don't know, Naomi," Mokuba began again. "He really likes you."
Naomi didn't dare to look at Mokuba, afraid, as if she might have her secret discovered.
"He looked after you day and night. He didn't even sleep. He wanted to make sure you got the best treatment and that you could sleep well. And he didn't think about himself. Not one bit!"
Shut up, Mokuba, please!
She would have preferred to keep her eyes closed in fear, because if she opened them, she couldn't shield the tears that would pour out.
But there was no way to escape Mokuba's curiosity.
"Don't reject him, Naomi. He's sincere. He …loves you… a lot."
"He's here," she whispered.
"What?"
"…close to me…?"
It was Naomi this time who couldn't hide the fact she recognized strongly the tone of her voice. Admirative.
She knows I'm here? Kaiba wondered, heart pounding furiously.
"So… why?"
Naomi sighed calmly.
Mokuba saw how the spiel would probably end up, but he did not speak up, burning with the desire to finally sort out the situation.
"It's not so simple, Mokuba," she repeated, remembering the first time she spoke the words as she did so.
"Tell me."
She puffed out another light sigh, smile curling the ends of her lips.
"Your brother and I… we play it rough sometimes. About who… will be the strongest between the two of us."
Another smile, this one filled with comprehension, appeared on Kaiba's lips as he remembered those soft moments where they helplessly provoked each other.
Mokuba stepped backwards, strongly amused by how much the words could have just as easily come from his brother.
"… and I don't want him to see me that way right now. He's so strong. I can't."
So it was just a question of pride?
Kaiba fought his urge to race into the room and hold her against him. He stayed immobile, a statue with a smile full of regrets.
Yes, I am strong, Naomi. That's true. But I'm strong enough for two.
"So," Naomi chuckled, "I still have my pride. What do you think?"
Kaiba, like Mokuba, stopped from snickering lightly in response.
Something in Naomi's voice told both of them it was just an instance of the oppressed fighting the invader.
"I don't want his pity," she concluded, closing her eyes again.
I wouldn't allow it.
What? Pity? It's good for the pitiful. Not for you, Naomi. Not for you.
And Kaiba understood her distress. There were so many things he had never spoken of to her. Plus, her physical state had to be tormenting her; like him, she couldn't support the invalidity of her atrophied body. She couldn't support the idea of depending on somebody other than herself.
"Mokuba," she said, "I want you to leave me now. I want to sleep."
Conversation over.
Mokuba bent over her slightly to place a sweet kiss on her forehead.
When he moved back down to the ground floor, he heard the front door close shut.
Predicting his curiosity, Marie – an aide – rushed to inform him that the master had just left. That made Mokuba certain that Seto had spied on their conversation. There was no doubt.
For several more days, Kaiba had no other choice than to be discrete, as Naomi had still not allowed herself to see him. He accepted this temporary rejection only because now he knew the reason behind it.
So when he came to see her in the evenings, he took great care to move practically on tiptoe as he walked past his room, then continued towards the guest bedroom which he was "borrowing" to sleep in – at least, to rest for a few long moments, seeing as he didn't sleep much anymore.
But Mokuba took his role as guardian quite seriously. And Kaiba knew him to be capable.
"Mokuba… can you help me get up?"
"Are you sure about that?"
Mokuba didn't seem to want to muster the courage to realize the idea.
"Wait, I'll go get Seto, okay? I think he'll- "
"No!" she interrupted him. "We'll… get there. Just help me get up."
Earlier, she had asked an attendant to take out the catheter she had possessed since the incident took place; she still felt a slight irritation in her bladder.
Her face had deflated quite well; she was recovering very quickly. There was still the scratch beneath her left eye that still seemed a little blue as well as the bruises down her right side, but the majority had passed better than the nurses could have hoped.
Of course, she still found it difficult to move, thanks to her side. But that was the last thing that was going to stop her from seeking out more autonomy.
It was difficult to stand up completely – and somewhat painful to boot – but she had done so under Mokuba's watchful eye, who had been quite worried she would hurt herself again trying.
"Yes!" she cried out, a conqueror. "Finally!"
Her head was spinning, but Mokuba practically held it so that she wouldn't fall.
"…I'd like to go to the little girl's room."
"Okay. It's this way," said Mokuba, steering her with his hands on her shoulders, not wanting to risk being the one to leave her alone.
On instinct, Naomi chose to ignore the full-length mirror that she saw once she was in the bathroom, fearing she might find in it a face she no longer would recognize.
Well, I do tend to…
She chased the bad thought from her mind.
But it was too strong: she had to know what had happened to her.
It took her a lot of time to gather up the courage to raise her head and look at herself in the eye.
The past always comes back to haunt us.
The right side of her face, from right below her eye down to her jaw, had traces of bruising so bad she thought it was as if blood had decided to coagulate there and wasn't going anywhere else. Her cheek was still puffy – to her, anyway, as she had never seen it when the others considered to be even more so. Even her lip couldn't escape it – it had a small cut.
I promised myself that this would never happen to me again.
She thought she had kept, maybe, the habit of being abused.
She was wrong. It was worse.
It's not fair… not fair…!
Memories, each one more painful than the last, began playing like a movie reel in her head, and her tears began to burn.
It's not fair… I promised myself…
Her legs had buckled under the pain and she found herself on her knees, her hands against the counter, not cognizant of the pain in her abdomen which was so bad it was as like it could explode into an infection of rabies.
As if she were punishing herself, her head knocked against the edge of the counter.
Overcome by panic upon hearing the noises coming from the bathroom, Mokuba didn't waste a second as he flew running down the stairs. It even seemed to him that he might as well have jumped straight down.
"SETO!" he screamed before he had even reached the bottom.
He had already come to the bottom of the stairs when he heard the furious footsteps down the stairs.
"Quick! In the bathroom!" Mokuba babbled, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Kaiba needed no further explanations.