I underestimated the length of this one the last time I updated. The truth is, there will be six sections. So this is the halfway mark.
Seto's presence, while important in the last two chapters, begins to take a turn here. He begins to take a more active role in the story, more in line with my usual M.O. If I had to pick a protagonist at this point in the game, it would likely still be Yami. But Seto and Mokuba are stepping up now, and the dynamic between the three of them begins to reveal itself. This is not your typical relationship in any sense of the word, but it gets the job done. Not every servant of God is especially likable, after all.
PART 3:
Mercy of the Gods
21.
"There a chance anybody's gonna see us out here?" Tristan asked when he could speak, looking annoyed with himself because he should have asked this question sooner. "I mean, how are we gonna—"
"No," Yami said quickly. "I have this in hand. I've been planning it for a week."
"You have?" Téa asked.
"Planning...what?" asked Mokuba, still without much of a voice. He was holding himself; it was late, and his ruined suit offered no protection from the night air. He was watching Yami carefully now, with the same scrutiny so often seen in his mentor.
Yami winked. "Why, your 'Welcome Home' party, of course."
"...Huh?"
"Do you...don't you...remember?" Téa asked.
Yami raised an eyebrow. Actually, that was a good question.
Mokuba frowned. "I...I remember...something. But I...I don't...why am I...?" He looked around, and finally realized where he was. He looked down, saw his own coffin. He looked to the side, saw his own headstone.
Realization set into the boy's face like a living thing.
Yami wondered...would he—
"Niisama!"
Yes. He would.
Sheer, unfettered terror. Mokuba looked ready to vault out of the casket and run back home, even though he didn't know where to go from here to reach home. Yami could only imagine what would happen if someone on a late-night stroll happened to see him; a boy about as easily recognized in Domino City as Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, two weeks dead, running naked through the streets at two in the morning.
Yami snickered.
Not his finest moment.
"What's so funny?" Mokuba cried, eyes wide and fevered, voice gaining in strength now.
Yami held up a hand. "Nothing. I...wondered if you would...well, worry not, little one. Your brother is alive. Not in the best of health, I'm sure, but alive."
This answer clearly didn't satisfy the younger Kaiba brother. He still looked horror-struck.
"Let's get out of here," Joey said. "It's cold, and fuckin' creepy."
Mokuba looked down, suddenly embarrassed, and tried to gather together enough scraps of black cloth to cover himself. Tristan chuckled, removed his tan trench coat, and tossed it to the boy. "Here, take this. C'mon. Better move quick and get you back home. I think it's past curfew."
The boy wrapped himself in the tan cloth gratefully, and stepped gingerly out of the coffin. Questions upon questions were written on his face, but clearly the idea of seeing his brother (and seeing what damage had been done in his absence) took precedence.
For the first time in its history, an inhabitant of Vinewood Terrace Cemetery walked out of it. Mokuba was pale, and his hair was an absolute mess, but his eyes were clear and vibrant again. His muscles worked again, his body moved again, his blood was pumping again.
Such a shame, Yami thought, that he had been embalmed.
The entire process would have been far less complicated if Mokuba's body had been left alone. But, even after thousands of years, the preservation of the dead was paramount. Whether for the sake of symbolism, safety, or whatever other excuse...nature could never be permitted to run its proper course.
You're one to talk about nature, after what you've just done, Yugi's voice came through in his head, sounding half-exasperated and half-curious.
Yami grinned.
"I never said that I wasn't a part of the problem."
22.
Mokuba took a much-needed shower once he reached Yugi Mutou's home.
Of course, he had nothing into which to change. Thankfully he and Yugi were nearly the same size (Yugi was extremely embarrassed to admit this), and so he wore the top-ranked duelist's bathrobe and gave Tristan back his coat.
"...Sorry," the boy said sheepishly, with a faint blush.
Tristan shrugged. "No big deal."
They didn't remember that it was entirely too early in the morning until Natsumi Mutou shuffled into the front room, puffy-eyed and dressed in baggy pajamas. She opened her mouth, clearly to reprimand the four of them, until she saw that there was a fifth.
Mokuba, who had never met Yugi's mother before, stared at her.
Natsumi stared back.
She screamed.
Sugoroku Mutou came rushing into the room holding a broom in his hands like a firearm. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving, and Yugi was entirely too nervous (and shocked) to figure out anything to say.
Sugoroku, whom Mokuba had met on a number of occasions, was just as surprised (although not as vocal) to see the young Kaiba as his daughter. He collected himself. Natsumi still looked ready to hyperventilate.
He said, "...Mokuba...you...I thought...how...?"
Okay, so collected was not the right word.
It was at this moment that Tristan, Téa, Joey, Yugi, and even Yami, realized just how quickly their young friend's mind could work. Considering all that he had had to absorb in the scant few hours of his new life, he should have been in shock. But Mokuba said, as smoothly as if he were a professional actor, "So I guess it worked, huh?"
"It w—what worked?"
Mokuba smiled. "Niisama's been worried lately. Someone's been trying to find me, we think trying to kill me." He said this as if it were the most normal occurrence in the world. "So Niisama thought, to make sure he could have enough time to find this guy, we'd make him think someone else got to me first."
Yugi blinked owlishly and, inside his mind, Yami was laughing.
"O-Oh..." Natsumi said, putting a hand to her heart. "Oh, dear God, I thought...I...I don't know what I thought. But...that's horrible. That someone would...would want to..."
"Where have you been all this time, then?" Sugoroku asked.
The tension in the room had evaporated.
"Niisama sent me and a few guards to his summer home to hide out for a while. I lived in the basement." He gave a little giggle. "I felt like a spy. It was pretty fun, actually. But we think somebody found out about me, so we figured it'd be safer to come back home. If the news is gonna break anyway, I might as well be here, where Niisama can look out for me."
"And...and did you...did anyone...know about this?" Natsumi asked.
"Only Niisama," Mokuba said. "He said to keep it a secret to everyone else, so nobody would be able to ruin the plan." He looked at Yugi. "I...guess you guys were...kind of...well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I didn't want..."
He had no idea what to say.
"It's okay," Yugi said. "As long as you're okay."
"I understand why you had to keep it quiet," Natsumi said, "but Yugi was...pretty messed up for a while." Yugi blushed on cue, and snapped at his mother not to say anything else. "You must have made quite an impression on him, Mokuba. I'm sorry I haven't been able to meet you before now. You should come by more often."
Mokuba smiled. "Thank you, Missus Mutou. I will."
"Oughtta get the whole gang together," Joey said, "have us a weekend o' good old fashioned partyin'! I'll bring the keg." This was a joke, and everyone knew it. Joey Wheeler drinking alcohol was about as likely as Kaiba taking up square-dancing.
"You're home rather late," Sugoroku said. "I would suggest that you stay the night here, but I'm sure you want to see your brother. He's probably still awake, anyway."
Mokuba laughed. "Yeah, probably."
"Do you want to give him a call?" Natsumi asked, gesturing to the telephone.
Mokuba shook his head. "No. If he is sleeping, I don't want to wake him up."
"My car is across the street," Téa said, smiling. "I can take you home, Mokuba."
"Let's go!" Joey said, grinning. "Ain't never seen Kaiba's place."
Mokuba nodded. "Okay. Thanks, you guys. Sorry we woke you up, Missus Mutou. Sugoroku-san." He bowed. Sugoroku waved dismissively, muttering that if some people didn't have such loud screaming voices, he would still be asleep. Natsumi smiled.
"I'll be home soon, Mom, Grandpa," Yugi said, waving. "I've got my key, and my phone. I'll call if something happens."
"Okay," Natsumi said. "It's good to see you're all right, Mokuba. I hope your brother figures this whole mess out soon. Take care of yourself."
"Thank you," Mokuba said, and bowed again as he turned and began to descend the staircase. The others followed him, and before long, Natsumi and her father heard Téa's car heading off toward the Kaiba Estate.
Natsumi blinked.
"Dad...was Mokuba wearing Yugi's robe?"
23.
"State your business."
Mokuba started to speak, but Yami (once again in control) patted his shoulder and said, "I've been wanting to try something. May I?"
Mokuba frowned, but nodded.
Yami closed his eyes, cleared his throat. "Just open the damned gate," he growled, in a perfect mimicry of his rival's voice, low and bored and bereft of any honest feeling. Mokuba blinked, surprised.
"...Master Kaiba! I wasn't...I didn't know you'd gone out, sir!"
"Whatever," Yami said, in Kaiba's voice. "Let me in."
The front gates of the Kaiba Estate opened quickly. Obviously, even though Kaiba wasn't ever angry anymore, just the barest hint of irritation was enough to frighten people into obeying him. Yami was sure that Mokuba would tell his brother about this, and that Kaiba would strengthen his own security after this incident.
The man to whom he'd spoken would undoubtedly be fired.
Téa drove onto Kaiba's property looking inexplicably nervous, and Yami looked as smug and satisfied as a cat with mouse blood on its whiskers. Mokuba was still staring at him, wondering if there was anything this strange person couldn't do, but when Téa parked and they all began filing out of the car, his attention was wrested away and he all but sprinted up to the front porch.
Yami was the only one to have caught up to him by the time he started knocking on the doors. The look on his face reminded the gambler of a crazed addict begging for a visit with his dealer. Hm. Amusing. He wondered just how much Mokuba remembered about his own death; had he felt anything? Had he seen, smelled, heard anything?
Were the repercussions of Yami's ritual more widespread than he knew?
He wondered.
He knew, however, that right now there was nothing Mokuba wanted more than to see his brother again. It hadn't even been two weeks since it had happened, but Mokuba knew Kaiba better than most anyone. He knew what two weeks without hope, without purpose, would have done to him.
It was no surprise that the door was answered by two people, not one. A maid, still in uniform but with fatigue written across her young face, stood next to a suited man who wouldn't have looked out of place in a government building. One of Kaiba's personal guards, Yami was sure.
The maid didn't scream, like Natsumi Mutou.
The maid made no sound at all.
She stood there, tired and confused, and glared at them.
"The story has been told once already," Yami said, crossing his arms, with an air of impatience. "Plans have changed. The funeral didn't cover him as well as it should have. He's been found out, and it's been decided that he would be safer at home. May we enter, please?"
The maid blinked heavily, glanced at the guard, and frowned. "I'm sorry, but without an appointment, I can't allow you inside." She looked at Mokuba, and her frown deepened. "And even if you had an appointment, I wouldn't allow you inside. Take your sick jokes somewhere else. My master has been through enough."
She made to shut the door.
She was better than the man guarding the front gates.
Mokuba stopped her. "Akiko," he said.
Akiko stopped. Her eyes widened slightly. Her frown remained.
"Impressive. You know my name. You even sound like him. But you should go home. I don't know why they've put you up to this, or why you agreed, but—"
"When Niisama hired you, he wanted to test you," the boy said quickly, desperately. "He told you that you weren't allowed to clean my room for me, no matter what. He told me to try to convince you. To...um..." Mokuba thought for a moment. "He told me to...act as pitiful as a kicked puppy. And he said if that didn't work, I should try to charm you. And if that didn't work, order you to do it. I tried everything. I even pretended to throw up. You said you'd call a doctor, but Niisama was your boss, not me, and if this was how I was going to treat you, you were disappointed in me. You expected better, and you were sure Niisama did, too."
About halfway through the story, Akiko's frown dropped from her face.
By the time Mokuba finished, her eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates.
The guard looked slightly pale. He whispered, "God..."
"Niisama sent me to the other house," Mokuba said. "Whoever wanted me, he was getting too close. So Niisama thought he'd try to trick everybody into thinking I was dead, so he'd be able to concentrate on finding him without worrying about me. But it's not gonna work. Somebody found me. I don't think anybody knows I'm home yet, but..."
He trailed off, looking anxious.
Like he was worried about messing up his big brother's plan. In other words, perfectly natural. Yami very nearly applauded. It was clear now that Akiko believed him. It was a pretty good cover, actually. Sounded perfectly plausible. And coming straight from Mokuba's mouth certainly added to its validity.
The maid stood there for a while longer, still staring. Woodenly, she stepped aside and opened the door to let them all inside. Once the five of them filed in, she shut it. All the while she stared.
Mokuba looked sheepishly away. "I...I'm sorry, Akiko. I wanted to tell you, at least, but...but Niisama said. And...and I didn't...well, I couldn't...I was scared, and..."
Oh, well played.
Yami had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
Akiko didn't answer for a long, too long, moment.
Then she all but collapsed onto him, hugging the young Kaiba as if he were her own lost son. "Bocchan!" she cried, tears choking her voice. "Oh, God! You're okay! Thank God, you're alive!"
Mokuba hugged her back, smiling from ear to ear.
Yami glanced back at the others and smirked.
He could see it in their eyes. The sacrifice had been worth it.
More than worth it.
Nobody noticed Yami leave until he'd been gone for a full minute.
24.
"Good morning, Kaiba. Up late, I see."
He turned his head. Yugi stood, leaning against the wall, as casually as if he belonged there. He was shuffling a deck of playing cards. Part of Seto wondered why, and indeed how, he was here. Most of him didn't care.
"...You," he said.
"Any luck playing detective?" his rival asked, strolling up to the wall and looking around at the information scattered across it. "Looks like you've been busy. I hope you've found a lead." He turned to look at Seto with an amused glint in his eyes. Seto knew it was a lie. Yugi didn't care if he found the son of a bitch any more than he did.
Not this Yugi.
"Why are you here?"
"Is that any way to speak to a friend?" he asked, manufacturing an expression of offense. Seto didn't justify this question with a response. Yugi grinned. "Honestly, I've come to celebrate. You didn't think I wouldn't manage to figure out your birthday, did you? Child's play. You're not as mysterious as you would like. I assure you."
"...Get out."
"Now, now, at least act grateful. I've brought you a gift!"
"I don't want gifts. I want silence. Get out."
"Now, that sounds like the Kaiba I know! Good man." Yugi was positively gleeful. Effervescence exuded from him to the point that he almost looked like the other Yugi, and it crossed Seto's mind that he was being mocked. "However, dear friend, I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you. I think you'll want this gift. I think you'll want it very much. Your servant...Yoshimi, is it? She likes it. Come with me, come with me. You'll love it. Would I lie to you?"
"Yes."
Yugi laughed.
25.
"Where'd Yugi go?" Mokuba asked.
Everyone, including the guard, looked surprised and started scanning the room as if expecting to find him hiding under the couch. It was Joey who finally said, "Prob'ly went off to find Kaiba."
"Is Niisama still awake?"
Akiko nodded. "I think so." She looked embarrassed. "I...I don't know how he...Seto-sama is an amazing actor! I thought...I mean, he...the speech he gave at your funeral, and...and the way he's been acting lately, it...it's all...I just can't believe it."
Mokuba tried to smile, as if proud of his brother's ability, but it didn't quite work. It looked more like a spasm of physical pain. He turned away. "I'm gonna see him," he said quickly. "I don't think he knows I'm back in the city yet. Probably, but he might not. Uh...Niisama hasn't been sleeping in his room, has he?"
Akiko smiled. Mokuba knew his brother well, all right. "No, Bocchan."
"I, um...might be sleeping there tonight. Could you clean up a bit, please?"
"Seto-sama's bedchamber is spotless," Akiko answered, glowing. "I saw to it this afternoon."
Mokuba grinned. "Thanks."
"Of course. Good night, Bocchan. I'll see you in the morning?"
Mokuba's eyes sparkled. "I'm not going anywhere for a while."
Akiko responded with a giggle fit for a schoolgirl.
With that, socializing was over. Mokuba left the room, and gave a distracted answer when Akiko called after him, telling him that Seto-sama had taken up residence in one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor, sixth door to the left of the stairs.
Téa and Tristan started to follow. Joey stopped them.
"Hold up," he said. "I'm thinkin' we oughtta leave 'em alone for now. I'd tell Yami to back off, too, but he ain't listenin' to anybody, so there's no use." There was no mistaking the command in his usually casual voice.
"Pardon me for sounding rude, but...who are you?"
Akiko was watching them intently, looking halfway between wanting to welcome them with honors (they'd brought her young master home) and wanting to throw them out (her young master was a target for assassination, and they were strangers).
She'd seemed positively giddy when speaking to Mokuba, but now she looked just as stern as the guard standing next to her. Joey cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and reached into his back pocket. "Uh...for all I know, that guy works for the FBI or somethin', so I'll, uh..." He pulled out his wallet and showed her his ID. "Joey Wheeler."
"Oh!" Akiko said, and her entire demeanor changed back. She grinned. "You're Bocchan's friends from Duelist Kingdom! I'm so sorry, I should have recognized you!" She bowed hurriedly, and elbowed the guard in the stomach. "Don't be rude, these are honored guests!"
"Master Kaiba has mentioned them, but they are hardly what I would call honored—"
"Sit down, sit down! Please! I'll make some tea. Make yourselves at home, do you have any requests? Don't mind him, he's just cranky." She started pulling them over to the couch. "Here, sit here, I'll be back in a minute. Trent, shouldn't we call Mister Ackerman? Does he know Bocchan is home?"
The guard frowned thoughtfully. "...I don't know, ma'am. I'll check."
Trent left through one doorway, Akiko through another, leaving the three of them alone. Joey, looking dazed and thoroughly confused, said, "...She scares me."
"I like her," Téa said.
"What's 'Bocchan' mean?" Tristan wondered.
"I don't like tea."
"It means, 'young master!'" came Akiko's voice from another room. "We also have soda if you like, maybe juice? Water, milk?"
Joey blinked. Tristan raised an eyebrow.
They looked at each other.
"She's good."
26.
He remembered.
He'd been walking home, which may not have been notable to any other ten-year-old boy, but for him it had been a clandestine adventure. It made him feel giddy with that kind of excitement that only came from doing something dangerous, something stupid, something not allowed, and it had boiled up in his body like a volcano and caused a grin fit to embarrass the Cheshire Cat to split his face. Every so often he would just giggle, for no reason other than the fact that he was doing it.
He would learn later on why Niisama always told him to wait for the car.
That was perhaps the only positive thing that had come out of it all: it proved that Niisama was right. Niisama was always right. The car itself offered protection from others, but perhaps more important than that was that when he was in the car, he was also under the supervision and protection of one of Niisama's employees. Hand-picked and dedicated and further motivated by an almost obscene amount of money to do the job right, they could be trusted to guard him. If Niisama couldn't protect him personally, at least he knew these people, these chosen few, not only could but would do it in his stead.
Niisama trusted them. And so, he trusted them, too.
But that day, the urge to disobey, the urge to strike out for the territories without backup, the urge to have an adventure, overtook him. And he didn't wait for the car. He didn't follow his brother's rule.
And he paid for it.
He'd walked about a block-and-a-half when it happened.
He was an observant boy. Niisama had trained him, and experience had trained him. He'd learned a lot from Pegasus Crawford and his island. He knew how to keep watch for threats. But this one...this threat was too much for him.
If only Niisama had known.
If only Niisama had been there.
But no. No, that wasn't fair. If Niisama had been there, then he would have sacrificed himself. That wasn't right. If he was glad for anything, it was that it had been him, and not Niisama. Poor Niisama, who already did so much for him, and who would have immediately—almost happily—given up everything, without a single thought to the contrary.
The first bullet took out his right kneecap, and even as he stumbled forward flat onto his face, for a moment he wasn't sure what had happened. What was this? What was that sound?
It felt like the second shot tore him clean in half.
What...why — the pain. It hurt. It hurt bad.
Crack! Three. Crack! Four.
Blood filled his mouth, pooled out beneath him like the red carpet Father liked so much. The red carpet that Niisama replaced. He stared, gasping and choking, at the carpet. Was he back...back home? Back then? Why...why did it hurt?
Why couldn't he...move?
Crack. Five.
O-Ow...ow, ow, ow! Something...something wrong...
Carpet. Blood.
He tasted...pennies.
Crack. Six.
Ow.
Owie...owie.
Look, Nii'tama. Owie, right here.
Make better, Nii'tama.
Please?
P-Pretty...please...?
"Forgive me."
Wh...who...? What...?
Crack.
27.
At 3:08 PM, on the thirteenth day of October, in the year 2006, Mokuba Yagami Kaiba died.
At 3:08 AM, on the twenty-fifth day of October, in the year 2006, he came back home.
28.
"Why...are you...here."
Yugi waved off the question yet again, chuckling as if he could not possibly be happier, and Seto was surprised to note that through the haze and fog of depression, despite the cold emptiness in his heart and his mind, he was growing angry.
"Would you believe that I was simply curious as to the interior of your home?" the gambler asked liltingly. "After all, I have never been allowed. I do hope you understand that to be somewhat rude. I have invited you into my home."
"...You don't have a home."
"Very well. Yugi has invited you into his home."
"I declined."
"But you do enjoy arguing semantics! Honestly, Kaiba, it's no wonder you're an introvert."
Seto didn't answer, but he did continue to follow Yugi down the hallway, though he didn't know why. He stopped when Yugi stopped, and he stared, waiting for his rival to say something else. Something relevant. Something worth saying.
Instead, he returned to his deck of cards.
Shuffling them quickly, with the deftness of a veteran casino dealer, his hands blurred for a full minute before he stopped, fanned them out—facing Seto—and said, "Pick a card, Kaiba."
"No."
Yugi grinned. "Indulge me, would you?"
Seto sighed and decided it wasn't worth arguing. He took a card.
The Ace of Spades.
"Back in the deck, if you would, please?"
He slipped it back.
"Here," Yugi said, handing the deck to Seto. "You shuffle."
"What?"
"Be thorough, now."
So, Seto shuffled the deck. He didn't know what this gleeful madman was hoping to prove, here, and he wasn't all that curious to find out. But it was easier to placate the man than to argue the point, and he didn't honestly care either way.
He handed the deck back to Yugi.
Yugi tapped the deck once with the index finger of his free hand, drew the top card, and showed it to Seto. "Was this your card?"
The Eight of Hearts.
"No."
Yugi revealed the Ace of Spades hiding behind the first card.
He laughed. "Close enough."
Footsteps came rushing down the hall, and someone rounded the corner.
Yugi stepped aside. "I told you I had a birthday gift for you, didn't I?"
Time stopped.
Sheer impossibility had taken physical form, and stood there, breathing harshly, grey-violet eyes wide and wet and staring. The air stood stock still, held him locked in place. Yugi Mutou no longer existed. Words had no meaning, thoughts had no function, the very earth ceased to become anything but the vaguest of shadows.
There was only...Him.
Seto Sasaki-Yagami Kaiba let out the first honest scream of his life.
29.
I'm sure that right now, the only thing you're interested in doing is hugging your brother and never letting go. But you'll have to wait just a bit longer, Little Kaiba, if you want him to keep hold on what remains of his sanity.
Mokuba jumped and stared openly at Yugi, who wasn't looking at him. Nonetheless, the boy was sure that Yugi had spoken. It certainly hadn't been his brother, who was clearly too horrified to make a sound.
Mokuba had known, and looked up to, his big brother for his entire life. And in all those years, he couldn't think of a single time he'd ever seen Seto looking so scared. The young executive's normally pale face was positively gaunt, his bright cobalt eyes wide and glassy, mouth open as he gasped in breath.
"W-What the...hell are you...!" Seto managed to gasp out, scrambling for his feet and slapping his right hand against his hip, where he normally kept a semi-automatic pistol. It wasn't there now, but Seto continued to grasp for it.
His brother's terror began to affect Mokuba. His chest constricted, and he bit his lower lip. He looked to Yugi for help. He didn't know what to do. Niisama didn't get scared. Not like this.
"You're being foolish, Kaiba," Yugi said. "Is that any way to greet your brother? It's not a trick, you know. It's not a joke, and I can assure you, it's not a dream, either. Simply a...means to an end, shall we call it?"
"Get away from me," Seto commanded, breathless and with no real conviction. "Get the hell out of my home. I swear by all that's holy if you come near me again, I'll kill you with my own hands. Get away from me!"
Mokuba opened his mouth.
Don't speak just yet, little one.
He jumped again.
"This may seem hypocritical coming from me, especially in these circumstances, but think rationally, Kaiba," Yugi said. "What possible gain could there be in such a joke? Why would I do that to you? I don't want you driven insane any more than I want you dead. Life would be entirely too boring if that happened. Look, Kaiba. Look at him. You know he's your brother." Yugi put a hand on Mokuba's shoulder. "Your precious little brother. Your raison d'être. I've brought him back to you. This is no trick, Kaiba."
"H...H...?"
"How did I defeat Pegasus Crawford? How did I defeat you? How do I even exist? Not everything can be explained by pure logic and science, my atheistic friend. I will be honest with you, because telling you to just accept it...well. It was a ritual. An ancient, powerful, painful ritual. I will only tell you that it is permanent, and that it is complete. There will be no repercussions at all for dear little Mokuba. He's just fine." Yugi looked over at the boy, raised an eyebrow. "...Well. Perhaps there will be emotional repercussions. But I'm sure you will be able to help him with that. Isn't that right...Niisama?"
The raw panic had left Seto's face. His eyes were narrow now, his mouth a thin line. He had gathered himself, and he very nearly looked like himself. To anyone else, he would have looked perfectly normal.
Mokuba wasn't anyone else.
"...This can't be real," Seto said. His voice was almost composed.
"It's too...good to be true." Yugi said, and sauntered forward. Seto stepped away. "That's it, right? This is impossible because it's good fortune, and since when have you ever been blessed with such a mythical thing?"
"It's impossible because it's impossible, Mutou. Get away from me."
Yugi began to chuckle. It sounded...evil. Not at all like him.
Mokuba began to shiver.
"Is this how it ends?" Yugi asked, slipping his hands into his pockets and staring up at the ceiling. "Is he to be reborn, only to be rejected by the one who loves him most? Will Kaiba's greatest desire, once given, only drive him insane?" The chuckle evolved into a full-on laugh. "The gods are sadistic, aren't they?"
Seto scowled. His fists were clenched. Bereft of his favored weapon, he was preparing to use another. If Yugi didn't leave soon, and Mokuba with him, Seto would throw them out himself.
But Yugi looked prepared for that.
His grin was merciless.
He said, "...Riddle me this, Seto-chan...even if this is a dream, and even if you do wake up and find him gone again...isn't it worth it? Even if it breaks your spirit and drives you into the dirt afterward...isn't this what you want? Isn't this what you've been begging for?"
Seto's eyes widened again. His mouth opened the slightest bit.
"Just one more chance...to give your baby brother a hug?"
30.
The trap was set. Now it all came down to waiting.
Yami stepped back against the wall, crossed his arms, and watched.
Kaiba half-fell, half-crawled to his knees. His eyes were finally locked on his brother's. Kaiba finally saw Mokuba for what he was. His hands began to shake, as did his lower lip. He tried to speak. Mokuba, responding to his brother's obvious discomfort, looked ready to cry.
"M-Mokuba...it...it is you...i-isn't it...?"
The boy forced a smile onto his face. "It's...it's me, Niisama."
"I...I'm...Mokuba, I...I'm so...sor—"
"Don't," Mokuba cut in desperately, and the first tears fell from his eyes. "Don't...don't say it. You didn't...you don't...it wasn't..."
Now Kaiba looked ready to cry.
Yami rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.
So he does remember how it happened...
"I should have...I should have been there! I should have done something! Damn it, Mokuba, I should have protected you!"
"No, Niisama. I should have listened to you. It's my fault. I wanted to...I wanted to..."
Panic welled in Kaiba's face again. "No! No no no no don't! You...you don't...you shouldn't...! I...!"
Mokuba's arms kept lifting and falling, lifting and falling, as if he were wrestling with himself, wanting to embrace his brother but unable to do it for some reason. As if he didn't think he should be allowed to do it. His breath was hitching, tears running freely from his wide, terrified eyes.
As if finally realizing what his brother was trying to do, Kaiba lunged forward and pulled his tiny sibling into a bone-crushing hug, and that was all it took for both of them to break. There were no more words, no more apologies. There were no more questions, no more doubt. There was still fear—oh, yes, there was fear—but it had been pushed aside. Heaved aside.
Yami's work was done.
He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and walked away.
Neither Kaiba took any notice of him.
31.
Yami came stalking into the front room looking disgusted. Joey shot to his feet, Tristan and Téa following suit. "So?" Joey asked. "What's up?"
"He sees the truth!" the spirit cried out sarcastically. "All is well in the land of the Kaibas. Masal tov. I'm leaving." Hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he headed for the front doors. Akiko watched him apprehensively, holding a tray with hot tea and tiny butter cookies, as he kicked them open.
"Well, Jesus, Yami, don't sound so fucking happy about it! It was only your damned idea!" Tristan snapped.
"It'll be at least a month before Kaiba's even halfway interesting again."
"Pardon me, Master Mutou," Akiko said, lifting her tray. "Won't you have a light snack before you leave? Think of it as a token of my gratitude, for seeing my young master home safely." Her tone was as sugary as the cookies she presented, but her eyes were rimmed with ice.
Yami raised an eyebrow. There was no reading his expression, but it almost seemed as though this offer offended him. He said, tentatively as if unsure what to make of her, "...I appreciate that, but I am afraid I must decline."
Akiko did not remove her gaze from the gambler's eyes. Although it was clear she was uncomfortable in Yami's presence, she showed no intention of shying away from him. Yami seemed confused, but intrigued, by this. His stance, tense and aggravated before, loosened. His old, swaggering nonchalance was back.
The tray was set down in front of the other three, all sitting on Kaiba's couch. Joey grabbed a cookie, tossed it into his mouth, and began to chew mechanically, just for something to do. Tristan followed suit with a mug of tea, draining half in one long, drawn-out swallow.
"Where did you find him?" Akiko asked. "Bocchan said that he didn't think Seto-sama knew about his return. So he didn't send you, specifically, did he? Was there...oh, I hope there weren't any complications? None of you were put in danger, were you?"
It was clear to all of them that Akiko probably didn't much care if they were in danger. She was only interested in Mokuba. Yami smirked knowingly, and shrugged his shoulders. "Not particularly, Yoshimi-dono." The honorific had a distinctly sarcastic tinge to it. "My grandfather very nearly accosted your young master with a broom, but of course your young master was supposedly dead. And it is rather late...or early, if you prefer."
"You invited Bocchan into your home, so late and on such short notice? Allow me...to thank you, Master Mutou." Clearly suspicious, she didn't sound all that sincere. "He must have been frightened. I'm sure he's relieved to be home. Bocchan always feels safest when Seto-sama is nearby."
The more she talked, the more and more engaged Yami became. He said, almost happily, "Your young master is admirably brave, considering his current situation. I must...tip my hat to him." He mimed the gesture.
"Yes, he is," she agreed, sounding as proud as any doting mother. She couldn't have been much older than Yami himself, certainly didn't look any older than her nineteen-year-old employer, but it was easy to assume that she had been working here for a decent amount of time, and was probably the closest thing to a mom the poor kid had ever had.
Téa thought of Yuki Yagami's grave marker, and felt tears burn her eyes again.
"Is something the matter, Miss Gardner?" Akiko suddenly asked, and Téa flinched violently. "Would you like something else? We have plenty of snacks around here. Bocchan has quite the sweet tooth, when Seto-sama permits him to use it." She smiled, her eyes twinkling.
"I always figured rich kids could eat whatever they wanted," Joey murmured thoughtfully. "Ice cream for breakfast, three-layer cake for lunch, you know. I mean, hell, stuff like that can't be all that expensive to Kaiba, right?"
Akiko's smile widened. "Of course, Seto-sama could afford to feed Bocchan all the dessert he could ever ask for. But he is actually quite diligent about Bocchan's diet. He keeps very specific instructions for Connolly—that's our chef. Oh. Oh, I hope Lionel remembered about the—I guess it doesn't matter. But...still...Seto-sama did warn him...I, oh. I'm so sorry. Listen to me. Anyway, I assure you, Bocchan only gets ice cream and cake when Seto-sama gives the okay."
"...Huh."
"Seto-sama takes his responsibility as Bocchan's guardian very seriously."
"Perhaps a bit too seriously...?" Yami murmured, almost too low to hear. Akiko barely, just barely, flinched. She glanced back at the gambler, and a penetrating gleam not unlike Kaiba's visited her bright brown eyes. "I mean no offense, of course," he added, half-smirking at her. "Kaiba is...quite the devoted parent, of course, and that is most admirable."
"But...?" Joey prodded, after a moment of silence.
Yami blinked. "But what?"
"Uh-huh. Sure." Joey frowned. "There's something off about you sometimes, man."
"Oh. Thank you."
The blond stared for a moment, then shook his head. "Whatever. C'mon, you guys. We overstayed our welcome, I'm thinkin'. We weren't invited, an' if Kaiba realizes we're all here, I'm pretty sure he's gonna call the cops."
The others quickly nodded. None of them wanted to see what would happen if Yami goaded Akiko any further. Clearly, insulting her master was just as sore a spot for her as it was for Mokuba, and they all figured that it wouldn't be pretty if this woman lost her composure.
After all, she worked for Seto freaking Kaiba.
"Don't worry about that," Akiko said, and her voice was perfectly friendly again. "I invited you in. If Seto-sama is going to be angry with anyone, it will be me. I can handle him." She winked. "It's one of the benefits of being his favorite."
"His...favorite?" Tristan asked blankly. "He has a favorite?"
"Well, he's never reprimanded me. From Seto-sama, that's a high compliment." She strolled over to the open doors, eyeing Yami suspiciously, and nodded as the group began to leave. "Besides, I have a secret weapon: Bocchan likes me."
"Hell of a secret weapon," Joey mumbled. "Shame it don't work for us."
Akiko's eyes sparkled. "Don't be so sure. Bocchan thinks very highly of you all and, whether you've seen it or not, that has had an effect on Seto-sama, if the amount of time and effort he puts into complaining about you is any indication."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "That's supposed to be a good thing?"
"If he didn't like you, or at least find you interesting, he wouldn't waste the effort." She winked. "He may not show it, but trust me. He likes you, in his own way. Be patient with him if you can. His only positive example of social behavior is Bocchan. He doesn't know how to be friendly."
They all frowned.
"I don't know about that..." Yami said thoughtfully. "Kaiba has always seemed friendly enough to me. Unorthodox, perhaps, but...sociable in his own right."
Akiko gave a tiny little cough. "I do hope you will pardon me, Master Mutou, but you are, well, something of a special case. If I may venture to guess, I think perhaps Seto-sama finds you...familiar."
There wasn't an iota of a chance of mistaking, from the way she was looking at the gambler, that Akiko did not consider this to be a good thing. If Yami caught this — and he surely did — he either ignored it, or took pleasure in it.
"Really?" he asked. "Of whom do you think I remind him, Yoshimi-dono? Surely not your sweet, whole-heartedly devoted little Bocchan. The Big Five, perhaps?" He gave a toothy grin, and Akiko scowled. "Pegasus Crawford?"
Yami's bright eyes narrowed, and his grin widened.
"His...most esteemed father...?"
Akiko flinched.
"Certainly something to think about," Yami said suddenly, and his voice was light again. Almost friendly. He stepped away, and no longer looked like a natural predator. "Thank you, Yoshimi-dono. This conversation has been...most enlightening." He glanced at the others. "Shall we go? Joey is right, I think. I'm sure we are keeping this lovely young woman from her...beauty sleep. It's quite late."
"How chivalrous of you," Akiko murmured.
Yami bowed low. "I bid you goodnight, and farewell. Give your dear masters my best."
And he left.
Joey was next to head for the door, after a beat of silence. He looked at Akiko and grimaced. "Don't mind him. He's, uh...in a weird mood."
"I've heard from Seto-sama about Master Mutou's...condition," Akiko said, smiling again. "I understand that he is, essentially, two people sharing one body." She smiled self-consciously. "I have met Bocchan's friend a few times. This is the first time I've come face-to-face with Seto-sama's rival. He's quite...unique."
"...Yeah. Got that right."
Téa looked extremely conflicted as she followed her friends out of the Kaiba home.
Akiko shut the doors behind them, and let out a tired sigh.
She barely made it back to the couch before sleep claimed her.
32.
Seto was almost comatose.
He wasn't talking, he wasn't really even moving. He seemed content to sit, legs half-bent underneath him, back against the wall because he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. Mokuba said nothing, simply lay next to him, leaning against his side. Seto had an arm around his brother's shoulders, and they sat that way for at least ten minutes before the silence was finally broken.
Seto finally managed to form a complete sentence.
Sort of.
"...You died."
He said it in a breathless, tiny voice, as if trying to gather together the last of his defenses against insanity and barely mustering that single, (what he'd thought to be) undeniable fact. Mokuba looked up at his brother's face and saw the cobalt eyes he'd known for so many years were still haunted, still frightened, still...untrusting.
"Yeah," Mokuba said softly. He was tired. His brain wasn't working very well. He didn't want to think about dying, or anything. He wanted...this. Sitting here, in his own home, with his Niisama beside him. But he said, for Seto's sake, "I remember...I remember everything."
Seto's grip on the boy tightened, and Mokuba huddled close.
Thinking about it made him feel cold.
"...Did you see his face...?"
Mokuba shuddered.
His brother's voice sounded dangerous. Mechanical, distant, but deadly.
"He was...it was...dark. I couldn't...I..."
And something clicked.
Seto's hold on him seemed to soften, and when he spoke, it was with a tone Mokuba hadn't heard in years. He said, "Okay, Mokuba. Okay. It's all right. Don't worry about it. Everything will be fixed soon. I promise. Just...leave it to me."
Mokuba didn't think he'd ever heard anything quite so beautiful in his life.
He let out a soft, relieved sigh.
Seto rubbed his shoulder. "I'll need you to tell me what you remember," he said. "Eventually. But not now. Certainly not tonight. Not until you're ready." Mokuba nodded silently. He'd expected this. "Are you...are you tired?" Seto asked, unsure of himself. "This...this ritual Yugi mentioned...did it...are you...? Did you...? Damn it!" He hissed this last at himself.
"I am kinda tired..." Mokuba said, placating.
Seto sighed, nodded. "So am I. Come on, kiddo. Let's get out of the hall, then. Can you...walk? Do you feel all right? Sick, sore? Your hair is wet. Did you take a shower before you came here?"
"Yes, Niisama. At Yugi's. I'm fine. Just tired. I can walk."
"Must be where that bathrobe came from. I'll have it washed and sent back to him in the morning. Go on to your room and get changed."
"Is my...is my stuff still there?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I...didn't see much of a point in clearing out your room. I...didn't plan on staying here all that much longer." Seto cleared his throat and stood up, turning away and refusing to look at Mokuba's suddenly worried, sad expression.
"Niisama..."
"It's fine. That's over now. Don't worry about it. G-Go on and change, little brother."
Mokuba stood up, a hand on Seto's arm, and stared at the back of his brother's head as he no doubt struggled to keep his emotions in check. On impulse, Mokuba gave him a quick, but tight, hug before heading off to his room.
He didn't see the surprised smile that spread across Seto's face.
Or the light that returned to his eyes.
Yami had succeeded.
With one scheme, he had brought both Kaiba brothers back to life.
END.
As mentioned in the previous section, this version of Twist's premise is darker in nature, and I daresay more mature. Even when things go right, there's a sprinkling of wrong. It's the nature of the game. Death is never easy, and resurrection comes with its own baggage. But then, I think Yami knew that, don't you? In fact, I think he counted on it. Wouldn't be any fun if not for that, now, would it?
Until next time, all. Hope you enjoyed the show.