Perhaps it's fitting that this particular work be risen from the grave. It's a new season, and a new dawn is rising. I've been accepted into the English program at the University of the Pacific's campus in Stockton, California. This coming fall, I'll be pursuing my teaching degree.

In light of that, I decided to work out some of the tweaks on this project and finally get it up here. There may be some tweaks to previous chapters coming later, but for now, let's get it done. The core story is the same, and it's nearing completion.

Those of you who have been waiting for this update, I'm sorry that it took me so abysmally long. Some projects turn out to be difficult to keep going, and I lost this one for a while. But it's back, and I hope you enjoy what I have for you today.

Keep an eye out; we're almost done.

PART FIVE:
Mayet's Feather

43.

"Serenity!"

Joey Wheeler wasn't used to guests in his home. Well, home wasn't really the right word for it. Whatever it was, he'd lived in it since he could remember living anywhere; he'd lived here with his parents and his sister for a good many years, then just with his father for a period of time he liked to think of as his own personal Dark Ages. But the old man was dead now.

The place was his now, but he still didn't really think of it like home. It was just a place to sleep, really. So he didn't often have visitors. If he wanted to hang with Yugi or Tristan, he'd go over to their homes. It was more comfortable.

This place carried too many fucked-up memories.

Serenity Wheeler stepped into her childhood home for the first time in what had to be two or three years, and Joey couldn't think of what to say. The place wasn't exactly clean, and he hadn't been expecting her. She didn't seem to notice the mess, though. She wrapped her arms around her brother in a tight hug and said, "Hey, there, big brother. How've you been?"

Joey hugged her back and chuckled. "Been better, been worse. What about you?" He stepped back and raised an eyebrow. "What brings you back to this little corner o' hell?"

Serenity smiled, gave the blond a playful slap. "It's not that bad. Can I sit down?"

"Uh..." Joey all but lunged over to the couch and tossed the laundry (clean, but unfolded) onto the floor, unceremoniously gesturing for her to sit as if he were offering here a gem-studded throne. "Sure. There ya go."

He tossed himself onto the other end of the couch and leaned back. "Sorry. Place kinda...well, yeah. Haven't got around to cleaning up since..."

"Ever?"

Joey smirked. "Ha. Yeah, well. So, just here to visit? Escape from Ma?"

Serenity smiled. "That obvious, huh?"

"What's she doin' now?"

"Dating."

Joey's nose scrunched up. "Eugh."

"Mm-hm."

"Well, yer free to stay here, if ya want. Spare bedroom's still a'right. I haven't, uh...destroyed it yet."

"Thanks."

Joey turned to glance at the small television set up in one corner of the room. His eyes widened, and he scrambled to find the remote to turn the volume up. When he glanced back at his sister, he saw her looking at him strangely. She asked, "Since when have you been interested in Seto Kaiba?"

Joey shrugged. "First time I seen him on TV since..." He manufactured a look of sudden sadness, turned his eyes away, and wondered if he would be able to fake remorse. He stole a glance back at Serenity and saw the same sadness—real sadness—on her face.

"...Mokuba..." she whispered.

Joey nodded, grimaced, and turned back to the television.

Kaiba had worn a full black suit to his brother's funeral: black shirt, black tie, black jacket, black pants, black shoes. Somehow, Joey wasn't surprised to see him wearing stark white on his first public appearance since then. His hair was sculpted just so, in the style that he'd worn ever since Joey had first seen him. He remembered that at the funeral, it had looked disheveled.

Not so anymore.

Kaiba took great, sweeping strides up to the podium, and even though it was a recording, Joey could read something different in his eyes. He didn't look lost anymore. He didn't have that blank slate nothingness anymore.

He looked just as arrogant, just as angry, just as determined as he ever had.

And it all came through in his voice when he began to speak.

"Most of you here know that fourteen days ago, a funeral for my brother Mokuba was held at Vinewood Terrace Cemetery. Most of you remember the eulogy that I presented, and I am sure that most of you hold me in contempt for that eulogy. I have not come here today to explain myself, but I have come here today to set the record straight on this matter. I am not taking questions. I am only here to make a statement."

Joey couldn't help but smirk. That sounded just like Kaiba.

It seemed like things really had returned to normal.

"Some two months ago, a serious threat to my brother's life made itself known to me. Several similar threats have been brought upon him in the past, and I have done all that was and is within my power to neutralize them. To the end of ensuring my brother's safety, I have done many things of which most people would not be proud. So it came to pass that I lied. Honesty means nothing if it does not help me keep Mokuba safe. You, all of you, those of you standing before me now and all others watching this in their homes, I have lied to you. I make no apology for that. It was necessary, and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

"...What's he talking about?" Serenity asked.

Joey didn't reply. He was too busy trying to hide the beaming grin spreading on his face.

He felt like he understood Kaiba a little bit better.

"In order that I might ascertain the identity of the latest would-be assassin who has targeted my brother for personal gain, I decided to trick him. I made it seem as though someone else had completed the task before him. Everything, from the nature of Mokuba's death, to the funeral, to the aftermath, was planned in order to accomplish this task. It was necessary to lie to you, so that I could be absolutely sure that this man—whose name yet eludes me but whose location is becoming clearer by the hour—would grow complacent. It seems that the plan did not go quite as expected, and so I come to you today."

Kaiba turned, lifting out a hand behind him, and Joey could hear a multitude of gasps and shouts from the crowd. He heard Serenity give a short scream as Mokuba Kaiba stepped up next to his elder sibling, dressed in a suit identical to the one that had been destroyed on the night of his rebirth.

"...My brother is alive. The ruse has proven ineffective as of this day, and so I deceive you no longer."

Serenity was crying.

Joey was struggling not to laugh.

There was a long moment of stunned silence as Mokuba looked out at the throng of people in front of him, and then the applause started. Slow, slow, building and building like the crescendo of a symphony, until Joey could actually hear the people losing their minds with relief.

Mokuba's face was red, and his eyes looked wet. He took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his face. Kaiba gave his trademark smirk. The ovation lasted for almost a full minute, until Kaiba finally raised a hand for silence.

It took another twenty seconds for the crowd to actually obey the silent command.

When all was silent, Kaiba spoke again.

"I know that many of you, perhaps all of you, would like to hear Mokuba speak on this matter." Mokuba stiffened; he looked terrified. Joey wasn't exactly an expert on reading people's faces but he knew abject terror when he saw it. He was far too familiar with it. "Understand, however, that while my brother is not dead, he has been through a long, tiring, frightening ordeal as I and my personal staff work to uncover the name and face of the threat to him that remains among us. It is thus my decision that he be left out of the public eye. I would not have him out here today were it not immensely important. Do not expect to see either of us again, until this man has been brought to justice."

He turned, and Mokuba turned with him (with a death-grip on Kaiba's right hand).

They left the stage without another word.

44.

"How long until the influx of emails and well-wishes crashes our servers?" Roland wondered aloud as he watched his employer enter the office, in a less than enthusiastic mood by the set of his jaw.

Seto sneered. "Not long, I'm sure," he muttered. "I suppose I should be grateful that this has been handled soon enough that those sheep won't start a riot, and break down the front gates of the estate with pitchforks and torches."

Roland chuckled. "Certainly would have been...interesting to see, though."

"Tch. Right. You'll forgive me if I don't feel put out for avoiding it. Where is my brother? Is he protected?"

"Copeland and Zika are looking after him for the moment. I believe he is testing the newest build of his personal project. Much has been improved since he disappeared. Would you like me to bring him here?"

Seto frowned thoughtfully. "...No. Let him be. He deserves the recreation. Make absolutely certain that someone is with him at all times, though. I'd go myself, but I haven't the time to spare. Go. I want no chance of danger catching a glimpse of him. Do you understand?"

Roland bowed. "Of course, Master Kaiba."

He left the room.

Seto sat, leaning back in his chair, brooding. He was beginning to shake off the haze of depression, and it was becoming easier and easier by the moment to focus. He cursed himself every time his traitorous mind turned back down those dark, dank paths that had led him nearly to his death. He could not allow them to hold him any longer. His mission, what he had thought to be his final act as a living man, had just grown in importance a thousand fold. He could no longer afford complacency, any more than he could afford doubt.

He could not afford anything that might stand in the way. Any thought, any idea, any inkling that would lead him down a course of action that could conceivably lead to harm, could not be given a single moment's worth of consideration.

He stared at the phone at one corner of his desk as he thought of this, and glared at it as if he could transfer all blame for everything onto the device itself. With an angry spasm, he snatched the headset and set it to his ear as he jabbed in a number so quickly that his finger looked like a flesh-and-blood needle in a sewing machine.

Two rings.

"...Well, well, now this is a surprise. First little Mokuba, and now you. To what do I owe this honor, my friend? Don't tell me you've come to trust me."

"Hardly, Mutou," Seto all but snarled. "My choices are growing slim. Given our...less than orthodox history, I have reason to believe that you have a way to determine the identity of the man responsible for Mokuba's..." he cleared his throat, "...problem."

"Are you...no. Is the great Seto Kaiba, high warlord of Domino City's upper class, asking a lowly store clerk for assistance? Are you truly asking me, of all people, for help?"

"You are no more a clerk than I am a circus performer, Mutou. Enough with the pretense. Will you assist me or not?"

"My, my. Give an inch, take a mile. Have I not done enough for you?"

"Answer the question. I am simply giving any avenue that may prove fruitful a chance. I will not let my brother die because I was too proud to make a choice that could have saved him. If you are stalling to see if I will offer to compensate you—"

"Do not insult me. I know well the depths of your resources, and they do not interest me. You should know by now that the only compensation I hope for when I ask a question is an answer. I do not even care if the answer is honest. I learn well enough either way."

"Fine. Then give an answer to my question. Will you...or not?"

There was a moment of infuriating silence that stretched into a full fifteen seconds, almost enough for Seto to slam the phone down and pretend Yugi Mutou no longer existed, before he received an answer.

"...It would be quite a shame to have to attend dear young Mokuba's funeral a second time. Understand, however, that my reasons are my own. I do not do this for you. Do not attempt to ensnare me in your fox hunt, either. You will know my assistance when you see it."

Yugi hung up.

After a few seconds, Seto followed suit.

And wondered if he had not just made a horrendous mistake.

45.

Yami hung up the phone, and almost immediately began dialing a number.

Who are you calling? Yugi asked.

Yami smirked. "You might say...a friend of mine," he murmured evasively. "After all, we are dealing with a man devious enough to outwit even the Great One himself. The...pillar of strength that is Seto Kaiba." He chuckled at the joke that Yugi didn't understand. "If we are to assist him in...quelling this threat, I think we must call in all the resources available to us. Like Kaiba himself has done. Don't you agree, Aibou?"

Anyone you call a friend, I don't trust. What are you plotting this time?

"Come now, Aibou. Words hurt. You trust Joey, and Tristan, and Téa, do you not? They are my friends, as well as yours."

Friends? Or chess pieces?

Yami's smirk widened. "So pessimistic. It's not like you."

Yugi couldn't help but notice that his partner hadn't answered the question.

Yami leaned back against the wall. "You worry too much," he said. "Honestly, Aibou, when have my methods ever proved ineffective? It may be true that I am...unorthodox. But that is perhaps my greatest advantage. Put it from your mind. No harm will come to the Kaiba family, from me or from any other. I have...made a promise. A king does not forget his promises."

Your people may have named you king, but you know just as well as I do that you never took that title seriously.

"I took it very seriously."

Mm-hm. Sure you did.

Before Yami could reply, a voice came from the other line. "Hello?"

The gambler's eyes narrowed. "Oh. I'm quite sorry. Perhaps I have the wrong number? I was looking for...someone else."

46.

"How is it, sir?"

There weren't many times when anyone could honestly tell that Seto and Mokuba Kaiba were brothers. Their actions, their attitudes, their looks, none of them matched on the surface. There was only one subject, one industry, that brought out the Kaiba in Seto's heir.

Videogames.

The expression on Mokuba's face as he studied the flat-screen monitor in front of him was nearly identical to the one Seto wore on a daily basis. The gleam in his grey-violet eyes matched Seto's glare almost perfectly.

And when he spoke, it was with Seto's signature tone.

"The idea works out pretty well. I like how it looks. But I think it's a bit too easy. This is a boss fight, not a tutorial. See? Like right here, when it reaches down. It's too slow. There's too much time for me to dodge. See what happens if you cut the animation. Or speed it up. This thing is supposed to be fast."

"Anything else?"

"Maybe we should give it more resistances. Magic is too strong against it."

"Magic is its weakness, sir."

"I know, but with the right build, you can kill it with five, maybe six rotations. Look."

Roland Ackerman stood by the door. Vincent Zika, one of Mokuba's personal guards, stood nearer to the black-haired boy as he discussed his project. Travis Copeland, a new employee of the Kaiba Estate, stood with Roland.

"He takes this business seriously, doesn't he?" Travis mused.

Roland chuckled. "You should see his brother. Most people think beta testing is a privilege. With standards like Master Kaiba's, however, it's much more a punishment. People cry, curse, throw controllers everywhere. The first widespread test of the Duel Disk system was a veritable riot. We had to call in a SWAT team."

Travis shook his head in wonder. "Does it make you feel old, working for a company like this?"

"Every day."

"Ooh! What was that?" Mokuba asked, excited.

"That, sir, is what happens when you take too long to defeat the creature. We've taken to calling it the last stand. Each titan has a different type. They all spell death to all but the...luckiest players."

"...I like that."

"Were you told about this plan?" Travis asked. "The funeral, I mean."

Roland shook his head. "No."

"Not even you? You're the master's right hand!"

"Young Master Mokuba is the master's right hand. Only they knew about this. Our esteemed employer didn't even trust his own security to guard the little one while he searched. He hired mercenaries."

"Sounds like a risky plan, bringing in strangers."

"From what I understand, the amount he paid them was...nothing short of obscene."

"So you have to beat them quick," Mokuba was saying, "or else you can't beat them at all. Better. But I still think it should be harder. Let's see what happens with the..."

"I wasn't sure what to think of him at first," Travis said. "Master Kaiba, I mean. I'd heard the stories, of course, about the times Mokuba had been kidnapped, and what the master did to save him. So of course there had to be some kind of bond between them. But...well, you know, it's kind of hard to see at first."

Roland nodded. "Yes. It is. Make no mistake, though. Master Kaiba puts forth every resource he has into ensuring his brother's safety. Nothing else matters to him nearly as much as that. Young Master Mokuba is more than the right hand of the Kaiba family. He's the heart of it. You saw the way Master Kaiba acted when we all thought he'd died."

Travis nodded. "I've never seen a man so close to death that could still stand on his own feet. I'm sure it would be even worse if Mokuba ever did die like that."

"I've been thinking of adding a special treasure, something rare, maybe a one-percent chance for each boss to drop it, you know? Maybe a weapon, or a piece of armor or...something like that."

"I'm not so sure," Roland murmured. "I'd never pegged Master Kaiba for an actor, but...after seeing him these past two weeks, I'm not sure the young master didn't die. Or almost. Perhaps he was...gravely ill."

"He looks healthy enough to me. I don't know if I've ever seen him so lively, and that's saying something."

"...Yes. But...I'm still not sure."

"Ooh! What if it's an item that unlocks a secret ending? Or a special character?"

"What character could we use, sir? We've made sure to use as many of the source material's characters as possible."

"Call the author. Maybe he has an idea."

"At once, sir."

Travis frowned. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Roland."

Roland sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I'm not, either."

47.

"You have one chance to explain this to me."

"I don't know how! This is impossible!"

"Clearly it is not, or it would not be."

"I can't explain this! I stood there! I stood right over him and watched him die! You think I wanted to do that? But it had to be done! It took me weeks before I could go through with it, but I did! I shot the boy seven times! I made absolutely sure that he was dead!"

"...Which leads me to wonder how you managed to fail. I see the look in your eyes, and I am sure that you believe what you are telling me. But look at this, and tell me how it could possibly be that you did."

"I don't know! He's good with holograms, isn't he? Maybe he's using one of those!"

"And why, exactly, would Seto Kaiba go through such a meaningless charade? If he were desperate enough to resort to a hologram of his brother for companionship, why would he go public with it? You know better than any of us how pathetically codependent those two are on each other. You want to tell me he wouldn't lock himself in his estate and damn the rest of us? Why run the considerable risk of being found out by holding a press conference?"

"I don't know, damn it! It's the best answer I can come up with."

"Do you know how many resources I've put into this crusade of yours? Do you know how much it cost me to ensure that you would not be found? I let you embark on this ridiculous mission of yours because you swore to me that you would succeed. Yet the boy lives. You have failed us. Tell me why I should trust you after this. Why should I not dispose of you here and now and cut my losses?"

"What...what if...what about magic? We use magic. Maybe Kaiba has someone working for him that could have—"

"Don't...be ridiculous. Resurrection is not a parlor trick to be conjured by any street magician for a child's allowance. Do you have any clue just how costly such magic would be? Even if you were right, and such a feat were still possible, I have been watching Seto Kaiba since his birth, known ofhim for much longer, and he puts no more faith in magic than I put in you."

"Give me one more chance! Give me a week, just one week, and I'll have it done! I swear to you! I won't let anything ruin it this time! I'll make doubly sure! I'll...I'll...!"

"...I am going to regret this. I already regret it. But very well. You have three days. No longer. Now go. And if you fail again, do not bother coming back to me."

"Thank you! Thank you, sire! I won't fail you again!"

"...I'm sure. Get out of my sight."

48.

"Bocchan checked his email this afternoon. Last I saw, he was crying. Ah—but don't worry, Seto-sama. He was smiling, too."

Seto leaned back into his chair again, and flexed the fingers of his right hand. He let out a shaky breath. "It's no surprise. He's become the local media's new darling ever since Battle City. An instant sensation."

Akiko smirked knowingly. "You sound like you want to be disgusted, Seto-sama."

Seto couldn't quite hide the pride on his face, in his eyes, and eventually he mirrored his maid's smirk. "Perhaps. He's done well for himself. Where is he now? Is he still in his room?"

"Mister Zika tells me he's in your room, actually. He must still be scared. Have you had any luck finding the threat?"

Seto sighed. "No. I'll have to talk to him about this. I thought he'd outgrown this habit. The last time it happened, he was six years old."

Akiko's smirk softened into a sympathetic smile. "He needs you right now, Seto-sama."

"...Hm."

Seto stood, stepped around his desk, and strode out of the room. Akiko did not follow him. He wondered if he should tell his brother to sleep in his own room. One night was fine, two nights were tolerable, but it was nearing a full week now. Mokuba had to get used to sleeping in his own bed again.

A part of him, a distant part, argued. That part of him was just as comforted as Mokuba was by being near him. By being able to reach out and wipe a lock of hair out of his face, by reminding himself that he was there, that Mokuba was back home and that he was safe. But he knew that that part of him, given free reign, would only lead to irrevocable damage.

He could not let himself fail again.

He could not let himself fall prey to weakness again.

He made up his mind, as he reached his bedroom door. He would tell his brother to go back to his own room. Maybe he would sit at Mokuba's side until the boy fell asleep, but he would fall asleep under his own sheets and his own blanket.

Seto opened the door and stepped inside.

Mokuba lay huddled at one side of his brother's bed, back to the door. He looked as though he was trying to take up as little space as possible, scrunched into the fetal position. Seto walked around the bed to see his brother's face, and could tell at a glance that Mokuba was in the grips of a nightmare. His lips were moving, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was strangled whimpering.

Seto closed his eyes, ran a hand over his face, and sighed.

"...Damn it," he whispered under his breath.

He knelt down and reached out to touch the boy's shoulder.

"Mokuba..." he whispered gently. "Hey. Wake up, baby brother."

Grey-violet eyes snapped open wide, tinged with terror and wet with tears.

49.

Seto sat up in bed, legs crossed atop the blanket, one arm around Mokuba's shoulders as he stared at the wall.

He was still dressed in the black slacks and burgundy shirt that he'd put on that morning. He wore his socks, but his shoes had been discarded on the floor. Mokuba wore baggy shorts and a loose white t-shirt.

Tears were still drying on his face.

"Do you know," Seto said suddenly, "our parents didn't know what to name you?"

Seto never talked about the past. If there was one taboo topic in the Kaiba Estate, it was that. It was a law. If Seto himself did not bring up the subject, then no one was permitted to do it in his place. And so Mokuba had learned to pay close attention, to sear every word into his memory for all time, whenever Seto did.

Although it was past midnight, and he was growing tired again (in spite of the fear still gripping his insides in a vice), Mokuba was instantly wide awake. He looked up at his brother's face, and saw...vulnerability there.

"They didn't?" Mokuba prompted, wondering if Seto would continue with the thought or if he would pretend he hadn't said anything.

Seto shook his head. "No. Mother's second pregnancy was...a difficult one. The subject of a name did not come until her sixth month. We, Mother, Father and I, were eating dinner when she...looked up from her plate, dropped her fork, and said, 'A name.' Just like that. She looked horrified, as if she had betrayed you. 'The baby needs a name,' she said."

Seto cleared his throat.

"...Father was born in this country, but Mother moved here in her teens from Shiga. I think sometimes that she chose to marry Father simply because he was the first man who shared her heritage; he was the first man her family would accept." He scoffed, chuckled derisively. "Their insistence certainly came back to bite them."

"Why would that matter? How come they cared where Dad's family came from?"

"Don't ask me," Seto murmured. "I always thought it a ridiculous stipulation. But then, there is a reason I refuse to associate with Mother's family. In any case, that may be why the first name they came up with for you was Seiji. Read as, 'refined second.' I believe it was one of Mother's aunts who offered it. For a while, Mother felt obligated to use it. She often felt obligated to do as her family wished of her. She eventually refused, however, saying that it wouldn't be fair if our names sounded so similar. We each would lose our individuality, and it would seem as though we were part of a set. As if we were not fit to stand on our own."

The irony of this concept was not lost on Seto.

He did not voice it, however.

"It eventually came down to three," he said instead. "Maro, Makoto, and of course, Mokuba."

The young Kaiba smiled.

Seto smiled as well. "...It was eventually decided that there was only one way to settle the debate. They came to me. They said that since they had already done their part in welcoming you into the world, it was time for me to do mine. They gave you life. It was up to me, they said, to give you a name."

Mokuba stared at his brother. "Niisama...you...?"

"It took me nearly a month to finally come to a decision," Seto continued. "It seems obvious now, but at the time I had no idea which of the three would be best for you. I knew that I had to make the right choice, though. I knew that as simple as it seemed on the surface, this would be the most important decision I would ever make. It was in my hands to decide something that would define you as a person, for the entirety of your life. I had to be sure. I had to be right."

Mokuba looked as though the greatest honor on the face of the planet had just been bestowed upon him. Seto may as well have told him that they were royalty, or that God Himself had blessed them both. He looked ready to cry again.

A soft, subtle smile was still on Seto's face.

"When I finally told Mother and Father my decision...they looked at each other, and they said, 'That's it. There's the proof. Our boy's a genius.'"

Mokuba did not respond for almost a full minute. He seemed not to want to break the spell. Seto looked peaceful, contented, and he didn't want to spoil the moment. He leaned against his brother and thought that he shouldn't be surprised.

Seto had given him everything else.

Why not his name?

The last tendrils of his nightmare left Mokuba's mind.

He very nearly fell asleep.

Until...

"A touching story. Unfortunately, it's not going to have a happy ending."

END.

Those who have read George R.R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" series may recognize a touch of Tyrion Lannister and/or Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish in my interpretation of Yami. This was entirely coincidental, as I had not read the series before writing this piece, which is where this particular Yami was born. Nonetheless, the resemblance is uncanny to me. Further, any who have read the manga "Death Note" might recognize the back-and-forth of Yami and Seto in the interactions of Light Yagami and L. Friends, but enemies. Hopeless enemies.

As you can see, the real antagonist rears its head this time. The identity is unknown right now, but all will be answered in the next, final, installment of the story. The road's nearing its destination, folks, and it…may be somewhat surprising.

At least, it was to me.

Take care, all.

See you next time.