The original French story is property of Melzart, and the Yu-Gi-Oh! franchise is property of Kazuki Takahashi.
Chapter 19
The Time of Innocence
Part III
. . . . . . . . .
You're not me
No one understands what I would do to change my life for just one day
Don't say if I were you
Or tell me what to do
How things would be if you were in my shoes
Please take me as I am
This isn't what I planned
I guess I don't expect that you could understand
'Cause you're not me.*
. . . . . . . . .
She was going out to get some air. Leave this house.
She had already been dressed for a while before she decided to dry her long brown hair – hair that now reached down to the middle of her back – with a blow dryer. She was, however, so pressed to leave that she almost forgot that it was still winter outside.
Grr…
It was however such a simple question, an easy response, whether that be a yes or a no. Yet she had neither confirmed nor denied the accusations. How the hell was she obligated to?
She had of course been trying to escape the entire time, but her past would catch up to her no matter where she went, no matter what she did. So much so that her past had become a faithful, quotidian companion of hers…
. . . . . . . . .
Another Mediterranean sunset, as only they could be in this part of the world.
Days and nights were peacefully passing them by.
That morning, very early, Marik hurriedly had run to Naomi's room, Odion close behind; he had just discovered an important archeological site which was just beginning to be excavated. He had managed, under the pressure of persuasion, to woo the crew chief over to the idea of both himself and Naomi's participation. Odion, on the other hand, was taking more pleasure from the nature and the tourism. He wasn't the type of guy interested in digging up dirt all day. Yet he never was far away from his companion.
It was just that Marik was so happy to reserve the surprise for the young woman that they would have to begin in less than an hour. So happy that he clambered up the stairs to her room, taking the stairs by three.
It was a very large suite, and their rooms were connected by a door. What had dazzled them even more was the superb open terrace where they had spent many quiet evenings making small talk.
Certain that she was already awake and ready to run this morning, he surprised himself with the energy with which the door flew open, Odion still shouting after him.
He hadn't realized that he had rushed in far too quickly, and moreover, without knocking first. It was to cause him the greatest shock of his life.
Naomi was not asleep. And she definitely wasn't ready to leave.
He was still panting from the long climb when the two men found themselves before the scene of a young woman standing in her bathtub, her foot tentatively reaching for the floor before her.
Entirely naked.
The two men shrieked to a halt, conscious of their error, and, with a gasp, Marik whipped around to turn his back to her after having clamped onto his friend's sleeve in an attempt to get him to do the same. It was almost comical – their heads shot skywards, children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
A certain redness spread over Marik's cheeks. But its intensity was nothing compared to the sweet smile of victory which graced his face now, although he tried to hide it from Odion, tried to be as much of marble as he.
Naomi, very modest, whipped around and threw a large towel around her body.
Agh… she's so beautiful… I have to be dreaming… just don't pinch yourself… I beg you. I'm in paradise…
Marik, still struck hard by the vision, had felt his heart stop beating; she smelled good, even from feet away. Her odor was easily breathable. It could not compare with the softness of the white silk which covered her body; he was sure, holding her in his arms would, pure and simple, be Nirvana.
He began to shake slightly as a very agreeable shiver flowed through his entire body.
Yet she had not shouted. Perhaps she was too taken aback by the intrusion. Everything had happened so quickly that she probably hadn't the time to show her indignation.
But the deed was done – what could she say or add, despite her growing uneasiness?
She also reddened, but out of embarrassment.
"Pardon me… I… I…" he babbled awkwardly. "I'll… just wait for… you downstairs…"
In one quick move he seized his friend by the arm and rushed to leave the room. Of course Odion had just seen the same thing that he had. But he didn't try to discover what he thought of that… oasis of dreams.
In fact, he had no need of a rival; Naomi was already unapproachable enough. But he was not worried because Odion would not betray him.
. . . . . . . . .
"Go prepare everything, if you want," he asked of her when they met back up on the ground floor.
He was still in his 'state' and was fighting to not let Odion notice. But he understood that the battle was nearly lost, a very slight smile escaping onto his lips.
Of course he wished for her to have the greatest happiness, as she saw fit.
As soon as Odion was out of sight, Marik let himself tumble down into a chair, persuaded that he needed a little calm to pull himself back together. Even an ice-cold shower would be insufficient to cool him down at the moment.
Nothing could work because that vision, which he could never forget, shook him to the core.
And she'll be mine… you must be patient… I want you to be mine, Naomi.
Again the smile of victory crept upon him as he closed his eyes to replay the movie in his mind.
He sighed.
. . . . . . . . .
Naomi softly walked down the grand staircase to the front entrance.
She was putting on her coat when Marie, as predictable as ever, approached her.
"Hello ma'am, are you going out?"
Naomi gave Marie her best smile and let none of her mind's confusion taint it.
"Yes, thank you."
Marie was still worried about her health.
"Are you sure that you do not wish to wait for – "
"No, that's alright, Marie, don't worry."
To which Kaiba's faithful servant found no reply.
She would have preferred it be like normal, when she would be accompanied by Mokuba on their small walk, when she was more pensive. But she had to resign herself to leaving without a word.
She wasn't even outside before she felt as if she were finally breathing fully.
"Ma'am, is everything alright?" asked one of the guards on either side of the door.
This can't be happening. I sometimes get the impression that this house is actually a prison… it's crazy.
But he was no more mal-intentioned than Marie. So she showed as much kindness as she could.
"Yes, thank you."
With that, she nodded her head respectfully as she moved softly into the large alley.
Snow was still partially covering in the immense expanse of ground, and her feet left visible imprints in her wake. A little to the right. Then to the left. A little to nowhere in particular as she wondered where she could really go.
Actually, everything was holding her back.
She had to regain control of her life, start over her daily grind; the training, the night scene, her contract at the hotel – her visits to the orphanage, the many other things she used to do. Yes. She had to recommence all of those things.
But Kaiba? What to do about Kaiba?
Hadn't she told him that she had no place for anyone in her heart?
Yes.
But that was before. He was a part of her now.
She had to get away from him. Before it went any further.
She sighed loudly.
It was ridiculous; they were already so far into their relationship. Even if she tried to deny it.
Maybe she wasn't through, given the lack of information he had of her. But in a short amount of time, she knew, they had burned enough rubber.
. . . . . . . . .
Several knocks against the door lifted Kaiba from his thoughts.
Naomi?
"Come in!" he yelled without raising his eyes.
The shadow that was then cast upon the open doorframe by the light did not resemble Naomi's.
His heart sunk.
"Sir?"
"Hm."
"I wanted to let you know that Naomi has gone out, alone."
Gone out? To go where? Did she have a suitcase, anything in her hand?
But he was not to pass beyond his pride, and did not ask her any more supplementary questions. It was as if he already knew – a lie he concealed with difficulty.
"Very well, Marie."
He waited until she had closed the door before he shot up and bolted to the window.
Without causing the slightest crinkle in the curtains, he carefully peeled them back to look for the object of his concern.
No. She had nothing with her. Which should be a good sign to him because she wasn't ready to move any further than the edge of the property. However…
Grr…
He determinedly shot like an arrow out of his office, yanked a coat down to throw around himself, to himself rush towards the foyer.
. . . . . . . . .
Mokuba didn't try to hide his radiant smile as he sat in the backseat of the limousine that was taking him home. He found it hard to sit still, crazed with impatience, because he could finally tell someone – his brother – that…
That he was in love. And Samantha was the center of his universe.
This time, he didn't hold back, leaving Seto with the overbearing lack of emotion.
Anyway, couldn't he understand?
Since Naomi had come into his existence, ignoring the sad or difficult times, his brother's life had changed. He had become more sensible, more tolerant, maybe more inclined to smile or to have fun, or at least make fun of himself. He should know better than anybody.
It really was too beautiful in Domino City.
He was happy. And most of all, he had given himself the mission to make everyone he encountered as happy as he was.
. . . . . . . . .
"I'm sincerely sorry for this morning."
They had barely exchanged a word with each other. And the day had proven to be gorgeous, perfect for their enterprising on-site. Naomi was kneeling, furrowing through the soil as much with her hands as with her trowel; he was delighted that she was appreciating every second.
Wasn't that the goal?
But she shook her head without a reply, as if forgiving him – or as if nothing had ever happened.
She visibly had no desire to discuss the matter.
After all she wasn't stupid to the point that she couldn't see his unease and that he would wish for last night to repeat itself. He hadn't done it on purpose; he was just too excited at the idea of making her happy and had forgotten his savoir-faire.
Which was for the best for her happiness, she supposed; yet she never would have told him that.
They weren't more than several steps away from the inn.
"And… I wanted to ask you… I don't know if you're as hungry as I am, but…"
"That's alright," she responded with a timid smile. "I'm not that hungry.?"
In a delicate movement he held her by the arm, stopping her in her tracks.
"Come on… it's not much, my Goddess, you must eat…" he said, half-amusedly.
Naomi recognized his soft smile, but she kept on walking towards the inn.
Again, he touched her arm.
"Naomi… I'd like… to talk," he murmured.
"About what? Why should I?"
"I can see you suffering. I sense it. And I know that all is not well. But what makes me angry is that I do not know what to do in order to help you."
She ignored his remark, as benevolent as it was, because she had already restarted moving back towards the inn. But she was moved by his very sincere compassion.
Of course she knew that Marik's sentiments were well-founded. And while he was doubtless a marvelous man, she still was not entirely seduced. Too many wounds – recent ones – thwarted the Egyptian's plan. And what he searched to unearth she could not uncover to him.
Yes, curiosity had long become a thirst to know; Marik knew that as long as he was not intimate with her, she would never open herself up to anyone. And he wished so much to be the man that made her forget everything.
"Naomi," he whispered, again watching the distance between them grow, his heart filled with a certain compassion – and disappointment.
With a profound sadness.
The more days that passed, the more Marik's love was definitely becoming maddening. However, as those days passed, Naomi was drifting away, as if her spirit were not to follow the same path as his own.
At times what he saw of her terrified him; she had every characteristic of being a specter that passes through one's life, soulless and without a conscience; but she was a specter firmly in the real world.
She had all of the attributes of Charon, the boatman on the river Styx – the river of Hades – on his journey to the realm of the dead. All the comings and goings that his work demanded. Except that she drag nobody in her wake, except for simple, torturous memories that were her only permitted passengers.
A shadow which zigzagged across the water, between both worlds.
And that also pained his heart. She was so beautiful and so adorable.
How could she also be so damned?
He however knew the Shadow Realm well enough to have already visited. Enough times to know that an infernal stay would not quite suit her.
If it were in his power to conquer the hell in his own heart, he would accept it with his eyes closed and arms open. Yes, he would welcome that.
He heard a demented laugh, then, almost demonic – a laugh he recognized from amongst all others.
"What?"
"No. Not you. Go away."
But the laugh redoubled in force, causing Marik to shift his head aside, ready to find the worst and most nightmarish vision of his existence; the same one that had been with him since childhood and which he had always believed himself to be rid of following his famous duel with the Pharaoh.
"If you want to go find her in hell, I'll be happy to help. I'll take her personally."
And the voice froze him to the bone.
Little by little, Marik became bogged down in the rage and horror that was his alternate self.
"Fuck off!"
He violently grasped his own head, shaking it energetically as if fighting to rip it off.
"Grrr… you monster! You won't go anywhere near her!"
"Hahaha! You're your own monster, Marik," the entity replied. "You'll soon need me again. You'll see!"
"Go away!" Marik nearly shouted.
He had been observed for a short while now – he hadn't noticed Naomi's reaction, and she hadn't walked into the building.
With a glance, she worried about the odd, passionate fight, having heard nothing from afar but distant yelling.
Which was, of course, Marik battling his unpleasant other half.
He could only be further postponed, he knew.
He didn't understand how or why he had managed to resurface right at the moment that he was particularly happy and at peace. Hadn't the Pharaoh banished him forever to wallow in the Shadow Realm?
Profoundly shocked, he was moving forward, half staggering, as if he were locked in the most important fight of his life, one which he could not win without being heavily injured, cut to pieces.
Odion had not missed any part of the scene, either; he was also trembling. He knew full well what was occurring inside of his friend's body. His eyes, worried, did not leave him except to glance at Naomi as she re-approached them, unaware of the danger which was threatening all three of them.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Marik gasped a sigh, putting a hand over his stomach, as if the evil, well-founded on the inside, was threatening to burst out of it.
"Yes…I… just feel a bit ill.. don't worry…" he attempted to reassure.
But nobody else could honestly know just how much the black maw was widening under his toes.
She offered to help him walk, offering him her arm, but he pushed it away at once, apparently wanting to distance himself from her.
And to think that several minutes ago he was only trying to get closer.
His behavior was growing more and more bizarre.
Did he have some sort of disease which he had not yet disclosed to her? Was it bad? It was, however, the first time she had ever witnessed any symptoms.
"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" he asked as he wobbled into the inn.
"…Okay…"
Naomi seemed to understand; she wisely kept back, at his request, and chose instead to go up to her room.
But now a true form of concern was weighing down on her.
She'd definitely have to come up with another plan.
. . . . . . . . .
Kaiba froze once he got past the threshold, he had pressed himself to move outside, Naomi never leaving the corner of his eye; as if it were nothing she was already at the gate.
"Is something bothering you, sir?"
But Kaiba did not answer the question, busy as he was watching Naomi on the other side of the property. Besides, he wasn't certain that he had even heard anything – just a distant masculine voice – even though the guard was right next to him.
Naomi…stop!
He suddenly turned to marble, very conscious of the fact that now his guards were staring at him. But if they hadn't been there, Kaiba believed that he could have sprinted the entire way.
But what had gotten into him to make him act this way before the simple sight of a woman walking away?
What would they understood – the men flanking the door – if he had run to take her by the arm and bring her back inside?
No. Kaiba was now immobile, forbidden from showing any sort of alarm.
Strangely, she then suddenly stopped at the front gates; her fingers, white in the cold, had gripped two of the bars as if readying to push.
Seto?
He still had a chance.
But all she had to do was push them open.
Instead, her hands loosened their grasp, and her fingers slid down the bars as if to caress them.
But why would she stop there?
Even her feet seemed heavier, stuck in the mere inch of snow as if they both weighed several tons each.
And the pain in his heart that was tearing him inside out…
Sadness. Desperation.
Pathetic.
Was Seto Kaiba master of his heart and of his destiny?
But wasn't it the sound of his voice which had stopped her from pushing that gate?
For a short instant, she didn't quite know if she had really heard it or if her conscience was playing a bad joke on her, mocking her mercilessly.
But she had stopped.
Kaiba felt his heartbeat begin to return to normal when he saw her resign herself to staying. The tension left him, blown out by a long, silent sigh.
And then he suddenly realized what he had been ready to do, right before everybody's eyes. He had run out after her. Stop her from going any further.
Unconsciously, he wouldn't have allowed himself.
But now that the danger seemed to have passed, she should not know, not seeing him standing there, frenetically awkward.
As lively as he had rushed out, he ran inside, hurrying to close the door behind him.
Naomi was not going to know what was behind her several seconds before.
It was her turn to take a deep sigh.
She had failed this new attempt to leave this place.
Her eyes turned to the sky, then fell back to the street again, catching sight of what lay beyond the gate.
For a second she could have sworn that Kaiba was watching her, eyes brimming with meaning.
Now, she still possessed the strange feeling of being spied upon, but this time, by a small black limousine parked a couple feet away from the entrance.
The glass was tinted, which prevented her from seeing inside. But she had a feeling that someone was purposefully training their eyes on her. A very unpleasant feeling.
Without showing the slightest provocation, she stared back at the vehicle, which, oddly, roared to life and made a u-turn, avoiding driving directly passed her.
No, her intuition would never leave her. And now her intuition was saying that whatever had just occurred was not good. It was too bizarre. Far too much so.
She momentarily could feel the goosebumps all over her body, and it had nothing to do with the coldness of the outside.
No, it was absolutely not good at all.
But, my god, was she really that cursed? And did Kaiba, unintentionally, add a personal touch to it?
. . . . . . . . .
Never had Marik felt so happy before. He had been waiting impatiently to hold Naomi in his arms for weeks, and she still did not give up the ghost. But she let herself be influenced by music, lightly touching him when she was too deep in her thoughts to know quite what was happening. At least she wasn't flat-out rejecting him.
Her body was shaking with a palpable and puerile nervousness. Marik bitterly regretted that it was not due to desire.
Her soul remained profoundly disturbed – a wounded bird, a caged animal. As close as he was, Marik could feel the great storm of feelings behind the face that she ducked to avoid his perfectly well.
But he pulled her gently towards him, even permitting himself to softly hug her so that she could know of the determination that he had to not want to watch her suffer any longer.
Because she was in pain – he had seen it when their eyes had first met. And it was one of the many reasons why he had been attracted to this magnificent creature.
"Speak to me, Naomi," he said, his breath causing the hair tickling her cheek to stir.
Can't you see that I love you already?
But without raising her head, she murmured apologetically:
"Not everything can be said, Marik."
Which, to him, caused her deservedness of an affectionate embrace to again increase.
"Naomi," he whispered despite himself, closing his eyes.
How he hated to see her so somber.
I'll protect you, Naomi. Nobody will ever hurt you again…
He tenderly looked at her then, his eyes shining with desire and simultaneously begging that she bend towards his lips to come into contact with them.
It almost happened, when, all of a sudden, she bowed her head again.
"I'm sorry, Marik…I…I… I can't…"
Agh! But why? Tell me, Naomi! Give me a chance!
She was feeling quite disappointed as well. But she couldn't let that show. She was hurting him. For no reason. And that, above all, was what she had sought to avoid.
She wasn't ready. For anyone.
"Sorry," she repeated, very quietly, before pushing herself away.
"Naomi…" he grumbled, unwilling in his heart to stop the embrace.
But it wasn't practical to hold her back.
So, deeply disappointed, he watched her walk away towards the stairs, towards her room.
It was torture.
Marik again let himself collapse into a chair, a glass of wine in hand; he would drink away all of the pain and maybe even Naomi's at the same time, if he were lucky.
. . . . . . . . .
It was one of the most beautiful and pleasing dreams that he had ever experienced; the same one that had been recurring since the infamous warning where he had surprised her emerging from her bath. Except now she was looking at him amorously, standing in the middle of the room, her arms outstretched for him to join her. Her aura was pure and white and strong.
Marik felt his body vibrate, relaxing at the sight of her, a proud smile erupting across his lips.
Finally. She would abandon herself, and their two beings would be but one.
Carefully, he walked forward as if he wanted to miss no part of the apparition, his eyes trained on her, more languorous than before.
Suddenly the walls began to move away from each other and the room began to whirl around him, Naomi moving further away each time he managed to catch sight of her. But nothing changed in her attitude, as if she didn't notice the endless spiraling.
Then a tall tidal wave rose behind her, threatening to engulf her in red waves; the bathtub had become her shroud. And the dark liquid, blood, was spreading fast over her shoulders, flooding her chest and running down the length of her entire body.
"NO!" he shouted, but no sound left his lips.
The dream turned into a nightmare.
"I'm dreaming. Wake up Marik. Wake up now!"
Powerless and horrified, he saw appear behind her his own image, eyes burning with malice, yet filled with the same blood, brandishing a dagger – his own – over Naomi's throat, yanking her head backwards.
"NO!"
Only this time the cry left his mouth and woke Odion with a start.
In no time he was at Marik's side. His body was convulsing and he was writhing, shouting like a madman, covered with sweat from head to toe.
A very unpleasant shiver washed over Odion, uncertain of who would emerge should he awaken him.
It was terrible. But he had to do it.
Quivering as much from fear as from outrage, Marik awoke all at once, body slumped in the chair, his eyes wide open, speedily reaching out to yank on something with his hand, which in the case turned out to be his brother's arm.
"Odion!" he yelled with a gasp. "Go! Go find Naomi! – please!"
"What?"
Fighting to catch his breath and having shifted to a seated position, Marik ordered him solemnly:
"…she's in danger…run!"
Then he shoved Odion towards the stairs as he tried to come back to reality and chase the vision of horror from his mind.
He was going absolutely mental.
And then there came the eternal laugh at his ear which repeated to him, "Good, don't you think? Did you like it?"
"…I…hate…you…"
. . . . . . . . .
Naomi paused at the gate as it opened to let the Kaiba limousine enter. The vehicle stopped as soon as the tail end had cleared the entrance, and Mokuba emerged, running towards her.
He was radiant with joy.
"Naomi!" he shouted as he went to hug her.
She was too shocked to know how to react. And although the gesture hurt her in the stomach slightly, she didn't let him know, but instead wriggled politely from his grasp.
"What the…?" she tried to say.
But she then received a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks! For everything!" he said.
Maybe he should tell her what had happened. But his worry upon seeing her alone, in the middle of the property, stopped him.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Oh…I was out on a walk… I needed to get some fresh air," she replied swiftly, dodging further explanation.
"It's cold out… you look frozen solid. I'll walk back with you, alright?"
She couldn't respond to that.
Why did it seem so important to Mokuba to tell Seto about her and Marik?
He seemed not to feel guilty in the slightest, half giddy. What was going through his mind?
They would have the time to talk about it because she still hadn't managed to leave the property.
"Mokuba… I'll stay here for a few more moments… okay?"
"Er… are you sure? It's kind of cold…"
"That's okay. I'll meet up with you shortly," she assured him before watching him scamper to the front door.
Why the hell did she never ask him that one fucking stupid question?
. . . . . . . . .
She didn't have to answer you.
Was he wrong?
It was difficult to admit.
Yet…
He had returned to the dark obscurity of his office.
Mokuba had never stopped bothering him about the lack of light, saying it wasn't good for his eyes. Yet he had always managed.
Several knocks against the door tore him from his reverie. Then it opened to reveal his brother.
He immediately trained his eyes on the keyboard, pretending to be busy.
"You wanted to see me, Seto?"
Kaiba breathed out loudly and placed an elbows on the desk, envisioning the dialogue, the other arm reaching out to turn on his bedside lamp.
"Yes, Mokuba."
His face was of ice, and his eyes of steel.
It's time to tell him, Mokuba thought with a smile.
Seto quickly took notice of the happiness that filled his little brother but he wasn't in the mood for euphoria. He had far more important things to tell him, despite their recent supply of good fortune.
"I want to know why."
"What?" Mokuba said, whose smile temporarily faltered.
Apparently Kaiba was not in a good mood.
"Let me make something very clear, Mokuba."
"Er…okay…" he responded, now hesitant.
He couldn't remember the last time his brother had acted so austere and serious towards him.
He had often seen him take the same authoritative – yea, arrogant - tone with other people. But not as much with him.
Mokuba went on alert.
"Alright," Kaiba began again. "I've noticed that you've been more…distant…for some time."
Mokuba tried to answer him but Seto cut him off.
"That's perfectly acceptable. You have a right to your own private life and your own secret knowledge. The right to enter and exit this house as you please. You have the right to have whatever friends you wish, and equally to participate in any activities that you want. I respect your ability to choose, Mokuba."
Ooh, I get it, he's mad because I hid things from him… I guess I should have told him…
Yet again Mokuba was cut off, this time in mid-thought. Seto was now dead serious.
"It is also true that I have not had much time to be around you recently. I even dare think that I've neglected you a little. And I regret it. I should be more present, more attentive to your needs and – "
"I get it, Seto… with Naomi, that…"
"Exactly!" Seto spat dryly, on the verge of flying off the handle. "Because you've mentioned it, there's one more very important thing that you have to understand right now."
He stopped speaking for several seconds, convinced that he had earned all of Mokuba's attention.
Yeah… I'm in love, too, Seto… I understand.
"I am certain that you did not mean to do any harm, and I even suspect I know why you did it."
This time Seto's tone sharpened, his attitude as glacial as the tone of voice he had adopted.
"…but… in the future… I do not wish, EVER again, that you meddle in the affairs that are strictly between me and Naomi."
A fallen cleaver, Mokuba froze immediately in place, stunned by the threat. Because that's what it was. And a rule.
Seto had visibly had much trouble in pronouncing his declaration, one that he must have decided upon before he had even known about Marik.
"Do you understand, Mokuba? I will not allow, neither from you nor from anybody else, any imposition between us. If you believe that you have other bits of knowledge concerning Naomi, keep them to yourself."
Woah… this isn't like Seto. What happened to my brother?
But… Seto… I have something to tell you… and…
Confused and hurt, Mokuba didn't dare to look at him anymore, as if he were suddenly the most insensible of men. He realized, too late, that he had made a big mistake.
But how could he have known that Naomi would have become an object of contention between them? As long as she was here, as much as was in her power, yet without intention, she was driving them apart.
"But I…" he sputtered useless.
He was again crossly interrupted.
"No 'buts', Mokuba! I will no longer tolerate any sort of intrusion. You have been warned. Have I made my point?"
Seto wasn't completely unaware of the grief and deception on his face. He felt it, too, despite the strength of his reprimand. But Mokuba had shown the worst possible indiscretion, an intolerable level of recklessness. And things were already so difficult between him and Naomi that he could leave nothing to chance.
"…yes, big brother…sorry."
Kaiba stopped himself from closing his eyes and bending down himself to beg forgiveness for hurting him so much. But he thought that had to, just this once, be perfectly inflexible. So he let a small silence simmer between them.
Mokuba stayed there in the middle of the room, completely taken aback, almost like he had just received a concussion, searching for inaudible words to excuse himself, to leave and brood over what had really just happened.
Then he sighed loudly.
"Very good," Seto said in a monotone.
Kaiba ceased vilifying him; he had said and done enough. More than his brotherly – or his fatherly – heart was capable of supporting.
"Close the door behind you, Mokuba."
And now he was treating him like a servant.
But Seto… I have something important to tell you, too…
Except Mokuba kept this thought to himself.
His heart shattered, he left the room, completely overwhelmed.
Never had he before been victim to his pure indifference. That was probably what was the root of most of this pain. As if, suddenly, his brother had made himself inaccessible.
When the door clicked shut, Kaiba let himself slump down in his armchair. It seemed he did everything wrong.
And he was sorry that he had approached him so heartlessly.
He had been stern…maybe too stern… with his beloved little brother.
He sighed, and then whispered:
"No… forgive me, Mokuba. But I can't allow the slightest error… not anymore…"
And it was in that precise moment, when he most ardently wished to find peace at last, that he suddenly realized that everything was really just beginning.
* Marty Bags, You're Not Me