Here's Chapter 13 of Appearances! Yugioh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi, and the original story belongs to Melzart.
It's been nine days since my transplant and I've been recovering well enough to go home, and with my downtime came this. The new kidney is working perfectly! It should take around six to eight weeks... plenty of time to get some work done in the fanfiction department! I'm gonna have to learn this new sidebar system...
Chapter 13
There's just some mornings…
Naomi! Don't let him- … no! Help me!
The cry of terror became painfully lodged in Naomi's sensitive ears as she watched; powerless, a frightened little girl being led by the arms of man whose face she could not make out.
Then the horrific screams morphed into something unbearable, piercing.
An invisible force kept the young woman in place, and no sound could be elicited from her own mouth.
Kaiba was awoken by Naomi's extreme agitation as she murmured in her sleep:
"Moli…"
She was sweaty enough to appear to have just run a marathon.
Grr… wake up, Naomi!
From what he could suppose, she was dreaming, and despite his intentions there was nothing principally pleasant about it - like most other nights. Rarely did she find relief while asleep. So when she finally had a good night's rest, Kaiba was among the most satisfied of men.
He was about to help her awaken when, violently, she furiously shot up so her back was perfectly parallel to the wall, her eyes wide open as if she had just been ejected from some black and glacial Antarctic water and was finally breathing in the air she had been seeking.
Just as vividly, she put her hand on her fragile side; she hadn't stopped trembling. It seemed to him that it was as much pain as it was terror.
Kaiba believed he could topple over dead in his concern. He stayed there, frozen in place by the horrific sight.
"Naomi." He crinkled his eyebrows. "We have to talk, Naomi."
She recaptured her breath with some difficulty, suddenly realizing that Kaiba had missed none of her brutal awakening.
Which obliged her to rapidly pull herself together.
"Sorry… had a bad dream, I think…"
A great anger rippled through Kaiba. It wasn't because she was attempting to lie to him. Because although she desired to not alarm him by saying that everything was going swell, nothing was really 'swell' at all. He was furious at everything but her. Furious that she had become a victim and a prisoner to herself.
Nothing is more intolerable than to watch someone suffer and to sit back, powerless. Worse – she refused to confide in him, to open herself up to him, not 'abasing' herself to any exterior aid whatsoever.
What could he do about it?
He even doubted for a short instant that he had enough courage and patience to endure it all.
"A nightmare?" he asked, holding her arm to help her lower herself back down onto the pillows.
Why don't you talk to me about it, Naomi? I'm here. Tell me.
"Yeah. A nasty one at that. I'm good now," she breathed, perfectly aware of his preoccupation with her well-being and his will to probe into her worries.
With one blithe move, she wiped the sweat off of her brow with her wrist. It hadn't yet stopped forming on her skin.
Without another word, Kaiba got up hurriedly to rush to the bathroom, and came back with a towel.
"Your sides okay?"
"Err… yeah. They're fine."
"Just a nightmare?" he insisted gravely.
Everything about the intonation told her he believed absolutely none of it.
Moreover, his eyes seemed more inquisitive than ever.
"Yes…" she repeated. "I probably caught a bit of a cold yesterday evening… that's all."
You really don't know how to lie, Naomi.
This thought almost made Kaiba smile, there in the midst of finding the situation deplorable.
Then again, she was still fighting to stop the tremors, fighting to do anything to hide from him her worry and the remorse which plagued her even though she had learned Kaiba had to be the most perspicacious being that there was; he had a gift, a hither-to unheard of talent to read people with his piercing gaze.
She also guessed that attempting to be cunning wouldn't fly with him either. But as always, she preferred to avoid the subject.
"You should rest for a couple more minutes," he said, his current solicitude seemingly impermeable.
Me? Rest? Seto… there are so many things…
That horrid premonition about yesterday, concerning Molina, hadn't left her, even in sleep. It had become so oppressing.
The disagreeable feeling that she would never see her again, that she would be separated from her forever more because it was completely beyond her capabilities to do anything about the matter.
She was convinced: the little girl was slipping through her fingers.
However, hadn't she known that this day would come, some day or another? That it would wound both of them equally?
She again realized, now more harshly, her own egotism; she had burdened her with part of her motherly instinct without truly realizing that child would probably foot the bill. What if Molina was only waiting for her clemency, and had all this time; was firmly hanging on the belief that this woman would be there to take her into her arms, ready to take her from that despicable house which cruelly lacked the warmth of a home?
I'm a monster. A real monster… and she's the one who'll pay the price.
Naomi hadn't picked up a single word that had come out of Seto – he was fiercely busy preoccupying himself with her well-being. He bitterly loathed the fact that she was so inaccessible, that she was escaping from him again.
"Naomi!" he barked dryly.
He was sitting on the bed, and in the midst of quite the insane gesture.
For a very short second he believed he might have lost control. For an instant, he had to perhaps yank her by the arm and drag her down the stairs, as if shaking an apple tree to drop all of the rotten fruit still on its branches. Yes, for a fraction of a second, Seto Kaiba was afraid of his own actions.
Grrr… stop destroying yourself!
The tone he had employed brought her back to reality.
"Er, what?"
But Seto's face now showed no signs of any sort of anger. On the contrary; it had again softened.
"I was saying that you should rest for a couple more minutes." Naomi shook slightly, a long, unpleasant shiver slithering down her back.
"Oh… er… yeah. Rest a bit longer…"
Kaiba noted with certitude that deep in Naomi's eyes lay panic and disarray. She appeared to be calming, but he was no moron and sensed her agitation perfectly well.
He's gotta think I'm out of my mind.
That's why she chose to choke down her emotions and to offer him a half-smile that was begging to appear reassuring.
"You're right. I should sleep some more."
Grr… stop lying to me Naomi! It's starting to get on my nerves.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Ugh! Stop taking me for a little kid, Seto! I hate that.
Any more and she might have slapped him across the face. But the worry that eagerly manifested itself with him stopped her. She was distraught.
No. I'm not okay, Seto… I'm not okay at all!
But, frankly, these words did not happen to be the ones that fled past Naomi's lips.
"Yes, thank you."
Kaiba rose. He could easily feel her distress, as if he were part of her, and he was sure he could even if he were on the other side of the Earth.
"I'm going to the kitchen, you want something to drink?"
Yes, that's right… leave me alone.
"Just some water, thanks."
Though he was not exactly a roisterer, he still regretted not being able to celebrate this Christmas matinee in a more agreeable fashion.
He knew it well, inside; this evening at the orphanage would not prove to be a sinecure. He wouldn't have even needed to bet on that.
Hadn't he been surprised to learn that she frequented the establishment regularly, before he even knew her, and that she cried upon leaving, maybe every single time she did so?
No. He wasn't a fool. Naomi was forcing herself to suffer, a bulimic before a buffet. Every night, after having eaten to satisfaction, she gathered herself together in some immutable silence to vomit up all of her grief.
The scene was not too difficult to imagine. Only this time, no tear formed upon her cheeks. Other torments, just as nasty, had bubbled up in their place.
Seto Kaiba detested the fact that he couldn't control everything.
But why had he gone through so much hogwash for a woman who hadn't even been part of his existence several weeks ago? A woman who had seen nothing, done nothing, or known nothing of the meanderings of his own life? A woman who apparently resembled so many others, those he disdainfully pushed aside without so much as a glance?
Because he had debts to pay, and also because the situation interested him - he had never, until that point, taken any particular pleasure in being approached by a member of the opposite sex.
In the end, wasn't he allowed to be occupied with thousands of other things before he hung himself, almost in misery, over the torturous morals of someone who never should have meant anything to him?
He was trapped in this sort of straitjacket, now completely incapable of fleeing despite his logic and his power. Everything seemed to call to her. With her in the picture, everything made sense.
Yes. Seto Kaiba was angry. Furious that he didn't know how to free himself from his own trap. Furious that he was unable to tame Naomi with the same victorious feelings that he had. Furious that he was watching herself auto-destruct as if it were deserved.
Because he knew.
He knew first of all that he had to make her do something. If not, sooner or later he would lose her, as she had lost herself.
… … …
As he walked down the stairs, he sighed loudly.
He was beginning to construct an almost diabolical plan, especially if he went completely against Naomi's will. But he was going to risk it. It was the only chance he had to offer himself up to aid her. The only one, maybe, too, of getting her back.
… … …
Naomi also sighed heavily as soon as Kaiba turned on his heels.
Why could she not taste the tranquility offered from bed that was so soft, so comfortable, the only tranquility she had felt for years if not for the first time in her life?
Was he too nice, so imbued with a genuine warmth that it was melting the ice which had lived in him for so long?
Didn't she finally have her chance to enjoy the arms of a man who seemed to desire to open them up to her over and over? Finally, a man with no seeming second thoughts, nothing to ask of her?
Hadn't he even personally admitted, last night, that he liked her and that he would bestow upon her the greatest of her desires?
Everything seemed so easy with Seto. Everything.
But it all felt so unrealistic in the deepest fathoms of her soul. Everything seemed too nice. Too convenient. But above all… she didn't deserve any of it.
The weight of her raw conscience insisted on re-making all sections of the fortress of her heart that Seto tried to beat down. Nothing was working because she never let anybody inside its walls. Not even him, entirely.
Anyone who risked it became the enemy of her, the living mausoleum.
She knew nothing other than the fight.
But with a force unequal to that of Seto Kaiba, she only saw his greeting as he tried to run.
Sooner or later, she'd have to leave. Even against her will. Even without permission.
That's the danger of attaching yourself to someone… they get up and leave.
And she was right. Seto Kaiba understood it and had always known better than anybody else. It wasn't for nothing that he had stayed clamped to her more firmly than an oyster shell. It wasn't for nothing that he had never yet let anyone else approach her.
… … …
He had always feared that she was rejecting him, that she wasn't accepting him as he was. Afraid of being abandoned like he had by his parents. Of course he wasn't without knowing that this was how he had wanted his life to be, and that his parents were not responsible for a nasty turn of events or the futures of their children.
But Kaiba had always also feared being used, then thrown away into the past like some filthy dish rag.
He was worth more than that. He had fought his entire life to prove that.
Except for Mokuba, he was alone. Entirely, totally alone.
It was thus that for a long period of time, anybody who approached too close to him automatically became his enemy, ready to burst his existential and territorial bubble.
Kaiba had never given that liberty to anyone.
Except Naomi. The only one. Uniquely.
The only consolation that he found in that at the moment was that Naomi, given the weakness that she was still floundering in, stayed 'beneath the brow' and prevented her from acting to her leisure. For the moment.
But later – and this is what worried him – what would she do?
Mechanically he poured a glass of milk for himself and then downed the entire glass in one swallow. Then he got a glass of water.
The house was empty. Only Mokuba, except for them. He didn't seem to be up yet due to his absence on the ground floor.
He was about to walk across the entrance hall when a strange noise captured his attention; it had come from upstairs.
Maybe Mokuba's up after all, he thought with a smile.
He was going to wish him a merry Christmas.
He soon found himself on the top of the stairs, but suddenly doubted his original suspicion when he found his brother still asleep, the door to his bedroom still closed, just like his own.
The sound came from his own room.
In a flash he was there, and silently opened the door.
The bed was empty. Naomi was gone.
…no.
Even more rapidly he became aware of the exact nature of the sound he had heard as he neared the bathroom.
What he had so clearly heard was the sound of water from the showerhead striking the basin. A rush of panic surged through him as he pushed open the door, fearing the worst.
Grr… so bull-headed…
Naomi's silhouette appeared beyond the shower's glass door.
She's escaping me… already.
Softly, without making noise and despite the fact he felt as if he could explode with rage, he placed down his glass, then advanced with delicate steps.
He rubbed his hand against the glass door.
For several moments, Kaiba had all the leisure in the world to observe Naomi's naked body; she hadn't yet noticed her unwelcome visitor.
The anger had now left, disarmed by the candor of this woman basking in his shower. To his relief, she seemed more or less okay without his help. That was certainly her goal because she had never told him anything. And that was exactly what frustrated him the most.
He hesitated another second or so before making the decision to invite himself in or to close the door again and walk away.
How could he want her to be so strong? Was it a part of her charm?
Against his well, he decided to discretely close the door again before she noticed his presence.
"Seto," she breathed as she opened her eyes.
Of course she would notice him before he could move through the doorway.
"I'm okay. Thanks," she said again, aware of his worry.
What if we recreate our first shower together?
It was true that he hadn't hated that moment of intense intimacy – now his desire roared back again, and he moved closer to inspect her.
She could easily guess his thoughts, as he could tell by the look she gave him.
"I was almost done," she said as she moved slowly towards him. "But there are still a few little places…"
Affectionately, she brought his face towards hers.
"I can't really reach them… and…"
Don't toy with me, Naomi.
"You wouldn't be…?" he murmured as their lips touched softly.
"Possibly," she whispered.
I don't know why… but I can't… stop myself… crazy…
Naomi blushed under her own desires.
In one rapid movement she yanked at the cord of his night-gown, revealing his torso.
Kaiba quickly threw it off.
He pretend to completely control the situation, as if the entire thing were dependent on his own free will.
"I thought you had to rest…"
She tenderly placed her still-steaming hands on Kaiba's cheeks.
"I haven't had any since you've been around, Seto."
Kaiba's gaze softened profoundly at the remark.
"As for those places," he asked, now completely conquered.
Evasively, Naomi showed him her fingertips.
"A little here. And here, and there…"
What was this sudden cattish attitude for?
Filled with a desire stronger than ever, Kaiba couldn't fight the siren cry of her tender skin.
Why did he have to play this game of questions and answers with her, at the precise time that his body abandoned itself to the sole ecstasy of his devouring passion?
Beaten before the battle, he had no weapon he could muster.
Seto recommenced their frolicking.
… … …
Naomi took a long moment, then, to contemplate him, as if wishing to burn into her brain the image of that beautiful face whence emanated that aura of power.
But she also had her plans. The first was to get up because she couldn't sleep.
She managed to leave the bed without disturbing the silence of the sheets, for better or for worse. Seto had not reacted, a sign that he was still sleeping deeply.
With much patience she managed to clothe herself in a pair of pajamas and one of Kaiba's blue robes.
At last she could even leave the room, as she was limping less and less. She had made admirable progress in a very small amount of time.
On tiptoe, she moved up to the stairway where, holding on to the railing with one hand, she cautiously placed her foot on the first stair.
"Wait!"
Mokuba, frightened at the speed at which she was progressing, panicked when he saw that his brother was not right up alongside her. He ran up and joined up with her on the other end of the corridor.
"Sh! Not so loud," she breathed as she placed a finger to her lips.
She began to respond to his questions.
"Your brother's still asleep."
"Oh."
He almost excused himself.
"So, I came right on time. I'll help you down."
"No. I don't want any help. I'll make it. But that's very kind of you, Mokuba."
He strongly doubted that she was ready to take on what she wanted to accomplish. If something were to happen now, Seto would kill him.
Thus he stood there, half terrified and half skeptical.
"Well… fine, if you insist," she said again. "Come down with me. But no holding my arms, okay?"
She happily found a resembling trait between the two brothers as he let out a light, unsatisfied groan.
"Don't you start. I'll say if anything's wrong, alright?"
He stayed there, sheepish and with his head slightly bent forward, as she went to put her other foot on the stair.
He gave up. He wasn't about to risk making her fall because he was too preoccupied with her safety.
The two finally managed to reach the bottom of the stairs after several minutes. It was a tad annoying, but she was finally regaining some autonomy, which certainly didn't displease him.
"What now?" Mokuba asked, certainly not willing to leave her side.
"The kitchen," she said with a half-laugh. "You eat yet?"
"No. That's where I was going…madame?" Mokuba bent down like a valet before guiding her forward.
As she remembered it, the kitchen was filled with plenty of sunlight. The décor outside had been overrun by a magnificent coat of snow.
"So!" he said loudly as he opened the refrigerator door. "What would you like? We have croissants, brioches…"*
"I had something else in mind," she admitted. "You wouldn't happen to want some sausage, ham, hash browns…. bacon… you see?"
The young man's face lit up at the mention of such foods.
"Well… I'm not very good at cooking," he babbled with a certain ashamedness.
"No need," she said. "I'll work a little bit. With your help, I'm sure we can- "
"But- " he grumbled.
"But what?"
She was quite persuasive.
"You couldn't think that Seto would appreciate seeing me work in the kitchen all alone without any help, could you?"
To tell the truth, she was mocking herself slightly. But as she found herself in Mokuba's presence, which happened quite rarely thus making any conversation between them equally as common, she insisted to the best of her ability.
"Fine, fine," he spluttered as his resistances fell. Anything for her to stop torturing him.
She hid a smile as she bent her head.
"So, this is how it'll work. You give me what I need, and I'll cook it. That way we'll really work as a team, okay?"
"As if I had a choice. Ugh, girls."
He inclined his head resignedly.
The two thus dove in to the quest of finding the necessary utensils – pots, plates – before practically jumping into the refrigerator.
"Let's see… eggs, ham, onions, cheese…"
… … …
Seto awoke on the very agreeable sensation of holding Naomi in his arms. It seemed to him that he had slept like an infant.
His eyes were slow to open, preferring to show him again the last moments of their fun. Nothing was better than her body against his. Nothing was more exalting, more pleasurable, then to hear her quivering lips next to his ear as she attempted to hide a most pure of pleasures.
The heat had remained quite well underneath the covers under which they had fallen asleep together.
Was she sleeping as well as he was?
He noticed quite quickly that she wasn't in his arms any longer and that she had even left the bed again.
"Ugh… this can't be happening."
He bonded roughly from the bed.
"What are you playing at, Naomi? Grr…"
Anxiousness at a maximum, he surprised himself at the speed of his reflection, his neurons firing rapidly between themselves. Had she profited from his inattention to run away and leave?
Where could she have gone on a Christmas morning? No. She couldn't be very far. She was, in fact, probably somewhere in the house, which was also the most likely option.
Calm came back to haunt him. She had to be somewhere.
But what if she fell and injured herself? If she were laying somewhere, suffering like a martyr?
Grr…
In no time he threw on his robe, identical to the one that Naomi had borrowed, and left the bedroom like a typhoon, hurtling down the hallway, taking every fourth step.
When he approached the kitchen he heard two voices intermingling – those of Naomi and his brother.
He was about to walk in but stopped himself, consciousness of the panting that kept raking at his chest; he was not about to show them just how panicked he had become. So he chose to breathe in deeply, and take time to gather himself.
Mokuba was shocked at how quickly he warmed to acquiescing to her demands. Curiously, he even seemed to find a certain pleasure in aiding her as he ran around to pass her what she needed.
She had finally opted for an omelet.
Before he could bat an eye, sausages and potatoes were frying on the stove.
"Could you cut me some onions while I try to clean some of this up?"
"Er… okay," he said without certainty, but began to cut them with awkward slices.
"Mokuba… you need to clean them first."
"Oh yeah."
I bet I look like a complete imbecile.
"There you go. You're working like a real chef," she encouraged him. "Oh, and don't forget the coffee, that's very important."
How does this thing work? he thought as he blanched upon looking at the coffee machine.
He could find himself in front of a computer and he would never have had such anxiety. But on the culinary scene, his feet couldn't keep track of the beat.
"Start slow," he shouted more to himself than anyone as he overfilled the water glass.
This was anything but a sinecure. But he quickly wiped up the water that was on the counter.
"Oh, could you pass me the milk?" she asked again.
He went to perform the request with grace. In one single bound he rushed to the refrigerator to take out the pint of milk and was walking back towards her to give her the object when Seto, without warning, couldn't help but walk right into him. The milk fell to the floor, the liquid spilling on the two brothers in the process.
"Mokuba!" Seto reprimanded as he felt his pajama bottoms become completely soaked.
He felt insulted as the accident happened in front of Naomi's eyes, who then started cackling in laughter.
But he kept his severe gaze strictly on Mokuba.
"You could have said you were there," Naomi said gleefully.
She felt that he didn't appreciate her comment at all and that he could potentially start chewing out his younger brother. But she threw herself into the conversation to stop the injustice.
"Say I was there? Let me remind you that I am in my kitchen," he replied, emphasizing his words.
What am I saying? She'll think I'm treating her like an intruder.
"Your kitchen?"
"Get out, Mokuba, I'll clean it up," he muttered as he turned to the counter to look for something to clean up the spill.
"What?" she interjected again. "You should get out, we're doing something here and we're not done yet."
Grr… is this some coup d'etat or something? She's not obeying me… again!
He was going to insist on the case of his little brother. But this time, she seemed more energetic, thwarting his plans.
"No. Mokuba's helping me cook. And you should go change, the milk smells. Go on, get!"
She deliberately chased him from his territory, with amusement maybe but especially with impudence, which have normally given Kaiba an ulcer as he would have never tolerated such behavior.
Mokuba didn't know quite what to do. He stood there between them, not knowing quite what he wanted. So he waited, waiting to see whom of the two would have the final say.
To his great astonishment, Kaiba seemed to calm himself. The enraged air that had previously been fizzing in the air around him vanished with the steps that he made for the doorway out of the kitchen. He was retreating.
"Wow… I never thought I would ever see that in my entire life," as he stopped himself from beaming with all of his teeth. "My ever-demanding brother… and without a fight, too!"
Kaiba stopped just behind the door. He looked back upon the situation. True, it was funny when he thought back upon it. He had been in quite the rage against his little brother. True, the anger had left him, the anger which, in reality, had been pointed more towards Naomi for having dared to move about without asking for his help beforehand than towards his brother, who wasn't responsible for the 'encounter'.
He quite indiscreetly stayed there for several seconds more, straining his ears.
Naomi was smiling, unlike the crestfallen Mokuba, who appeared to not have quite yet moved on, as if he were mentally noting that he would be facing Kaiba's wrath later.
"He'll get over it," she comforted him with a whisper.
"Yeah… but Seto seemed to be really angry," he babbled as he wiped the floor.
"None of it is your fault, Mokuba," she assured him. "Moreoever, I don't think he was mad at you. I think he's just scared that I'll hurt myself parading around the house, that's all."
She offered him her most tender grin, and managed to completely alleviate his fears.
It worked – the truth about his brother. He had been so obviously jealous of Naomi that he was in the worse of states. He also knew how much he was concerned about her wounds. He never would have seen his brother back down from the average person beforehand.
It was with the frankest of smiles that Kaiba left for his bedroom to put on a cleaner piece of clothing. Naomi had hit the bull's-eye. She was anything but wrong.
* Quite indicative of the French nature of the original story.
So, I plan to be working on the story a little more than I have nothing to do but sit in my house and recover. Still have little energy (like pre-transplant), but this time it can only go up, instead of being indicative of organ failure.