iCraft: thank you so much for your continued support! Kisara's background will be slowly unfolded throughout the story, and you'll hopefully come to understand her better throughout the chapters. We all have the little devil of hope don't we? Heh.

Evee90: hey thank you so much! I'm trying my best to make a different kisara, since I have read many of the same (though not bad!) passive versions. I can't wait to see what you think of her interaction with the geek squad. ;) And yes this is post battle City, return to domino and normal life…sort of.

Shadowwalker93: I am hoping it goes to a place that interests you!

Burgomeister: that's such a huge compliment thank you kindly!

much love for reading and reviewing, and many thanks. i own nothing but the plot -raz0rs

Chapter four: I dream because I can meet you in dreams.

The nights were longer than he remembered, and the days drug on like a bad sunburn he wished he could peel off and be rid of constant itching. It had been like this since the end of his tournament and return to daily life, he felt anxious. School was a waste of time, a simple distraction from running his company which needed his full attention.

Mokuba hadn't stopped chattering at him since he got in the car, and insisted upon hearing all about his first day. "They are the same every year Mokuba." was his simple response. His younger brother scowled at him with an annoyance, dismissing the idea of prodding Seto for the time being. There was no way he was going to let Mokuba in on his thoughts. They had been racing the whole late afternoon and evening. No matter how much work he plowed through nothing seemed to topple the obelisk of his attention—Kisara. She was undeniably intriguing to him. Her blush had illuminated pale cheeks when he had addressed her; when she heard his name. He wrote it off simply as his fame, and her shame and not that she was having the same suspicions as him. It would be ludicrous to think the latter.

After retreating to his bedroom he took a long shower, trying to scrub his skin clean of the haunting vision of his supposed former self, holding a white haired blue-eyed girl's body. Crying over said girl, begging her to stay and love him as he loved her. Him, Seto Kaiba, crying over a girl, was a disgustingly insipid thought. Laughing out loud at the notion he stepped out of the shower and into clean pajamas. It was only happenstance that her appearance was nearly identical, and no matter the odd intensity of his magnetism to her it didn't have anything to do with destiny. The thought had only occurred because Yugi and his cult of stupidity had forced it into his head for far too long with their farfetched fantasies of ancient Egypt.

He set the alarm on his phone and readjusted himself amongst his bedding, slipping an arm underneath a pillow with a slight grunt. His body ached all over from tension he didn't realize he had carried. Even his trained briefcase hand, used to the weight of toting his belongings betrayed him, seemingly clutching too tightly during the day. His back was sore along his lower spine and his legs and knees felt tight and over-extended.

It took an hour of tossing and turning to be comfortable, and it was well past midnight when sleep finally took him. He drifted off into a hopefully blank unconsciousness.

But forces beyond his control would not let him off that easily.

There she stood, as if waiting for him. The girl from Egypt, from all the weird visions he had had after the end of battle city. Her hair was a blinding shimmer of white against the reflection of the sun and sand, her eyes like lasers burning into him, whispering his name like a prayer. He reached out to her unsurely, but she grabbed his hand, raising him to his feet. There was an undeniable intensity to her presence, unlike his previous dreams where she had seemed blurry and distant. When her hand mad contact it sent shivers up his arm with an odd combination of delicate softness and certain strength. He stood and released her arm, his own coiling back from the shock of reality of the contact.

He dusted off his knees, realizing he was wearing one of his modern outfits, black slacks and a shirt to match. Normally these dreams dressed him to match the time he intruded on, but not this one. It was different, he knew somehow that this dream was different. She was still staring, waiting, unwavering. "Hello Seto." Her voice was soft and strong at the same time, a cold rain that that wouldn't quit on a clear day.

"K-Kisara?" He stuttered out unsurely, not trusting himself to his normal egocentric strut and instead allowing the small, but still present unsure honesty to speak in it's place.

She nodded in response. "Walk with me, will you?" She offered her hand again, and he took it, not letting go this time. They were outside of some temple walls, and their feet made no sound in the sand. Seto couldn't look away from her. She stood half a head shorter than him and didn't flinch at his steadfast stare. A half smile curled her lips, so fair against skin that nearly glowed in the streaming sunlight miraculously un-burnt. He realized she knew he was watching her, but instead of addressing it she let it pass without inquiry. Everything about her was calm and pristine, and her bare feet, so delicate slipped onto the stairs of the temple soundlessly as she shoes clicked against the stone.

She led them both to stand in the central space, in between pillars of ancient granite carved with lotus blossoms and hieroglyphics beyond counting. There was a fountain in the center with a statue of a hippopotamus, water streaming from its nostrils and opened mouth, pooling on a dish on its back. Lilypads drifted in the surrounding water, small blossoms floating along with their leafy counterparts.

She released him and sat on the stairs next to the fountain, folding her legs under her with delicate grace. The rough spun shapeless linen tunic she wore could have been but a burlap sack, but her graceful form and delicate curves made it look like something out of Chanel's spring catalogue. Slowly he sat down besides her, his eyes taking in the sight around him. They appeared to be the only ones there; in this quiet dreamscape there were soft sounds of wind and splashing water. It seemed tranquil, quiet and peaceful. He breathed deeply and let his hands rest firmly on the granite steps, warm from sun and textured with a fine grain. He felt comfortable; everything here was soothing to his soul, including her company.

"Do you truly forget this place?" She asked after a moment, hands folding together, only turning to him when his face showed obvious question. He could loose himself in the sharpness of her eyes, assured that the color did not exist in nature. He could pick out its hex code in one of his computer programs, he could liken it to some stone or flower but nothing did them justice. It wasn't just the color, but the intensity and depth that held him firm, not allowing him to look elsewhere. "We met here often before. It was a temple to your namesake once; to Set."

Something about this place did seem safe to him. His sense betrayed him, allowing him to be the person he only was around Mokuba; he was sometimes able drop the persona of his ego, and let down all the barriers he drew up to protect the brothers Kaiba and their company. He was a teenage billionaire, a programming prodigy and inventor, a walking symbol of the power of youth and undeniable strength of mind and willpower after all. He owned his image, and he acted his ego. But sometimes, he was a seventeen-year-old throwing pillows at his brother, laughing at a stupid butt-joke and making microwave noodles at 1 in the morning. Sometimes meant only around Mokuba, not even Roland saw this side of him.

"I don't remember." He managed, the words tumbling from him in a raspy whisper, as if sand had lodged in his throat. She smiled at him and his stomach churned with an odd endorphin-driven sensations. The feeling reminded him of when he crushed his enemies in duels, or when he fixed the bad marker that threw off the coding of his newest program. When had made a good business decision, finished a long project. But it was more than simple… happiness? He guessed at the unfamiliar word.

"It's alright. You have been lost for a long while, and you've always been the stubborn type." She drew her legs to her chest and folded arms around them, peering at him through white bangs that blew about softly in the warm wind. "At least that seems to have carried over to your reincarnation." He couldn't help the narrowing of his eyebrows, to which she merely laughed at, a high-pitched sound that reminded him of wind chimes and small birds. "I know you don't believe in any of this." Her smile lingered as she stared at him, her pose a near mirror of the girl he had met in the computer lab, legs drawn into herself with arms crossed over. But this Kisara regarded him with ease and familiarity that spoke of a deep intimacy, not with the agitation and fear the current one had shown him in their brief encounters.

"She is very different than I was…. I guess you are different than my Seto. But your hearts are the same. I would know your ka anywhere." She reached a hand out and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. When her fingers made contact with his skin he leaned into her hand, familiar and warm. Like the mother's hug he had long forgotten, or the lover's embrace he had never known. His mind rolled with questions, confusion, and doubt. He kept his eyes closed as her hand drew away, and the slightest movement of his head followed the loss of her touch.

Everything was so serene here, the sun, the sand. Even the wind that blew the smell of nectar and baked granite tiles sunk deep into his mind with sweet serenity. He opened his eyes to her, the fluttering feeling still intoxicating him in an odd haze, his lips parted to speak, to attempt to express what he was thinking, but she beat him to speaking. "Help her Seto. She needs it. Our ka is strong, the soul of the blue eyes, the light that she bears, it can be too much. Her ba and ka are not in the balance that I maintained; her soul is not as pure, her heart not as innocent." He swayed slightly; suddenly realizing her face was becoming blurry. "We don't get second chances often, and you deserve one. Don't let her go, don't let her run…." She all but whispered as the dream faded into to a dark blur.

Seto sat straight up in his bed with a sharp gasp, his lungs heaving and his eyes flying around his surroundings frantically searching for familiarity. His hands shook slightly as he grasp his duvet with fever as he attempted to slow his racing mind. It took longer than it should have for his breathing to regulate and his pulse to slow. It was 3:33 in the morning, exactly halfway through the witching hour. He remembered he had read once that it was the most magic time of day, the easiest to access spiritual energies. Bullshit, his rational spat back, in direct objection to his sweat slicked forehead.

Drawing a long breath, he laid back down, rolling on his side and staring at the clock. He pulled the duvet up to his ear even though he was still damp with sweat. Forcing his eyes shut, try as he might he couldn't block her out of his mind no matter what he focused on. Their mannerisms were similar, and their appearance all but the same. But their attitudes were as different as water and fire. Maybe he was over-thinking it, he didn't even know the girl.

She had spat fire at him in homeroom, but to be fair he did stare at her, something she was probably overly aware of due to her elusive appearance. But when he had tried to smooth over his faux pas she had balked at him like a beaten dog. She was almost worthy of his attention, almost. But he was spending way to long lingering on a nightmare and a whisper. Yugi would probably he thrilled beyond reasoning if he ever dared admit his most recent line of thoughts; just more imaginary nonsense. He smirked, his breathing slowly at last when that thought passed through his mind, and finally again he found sleep.

Blissful black oblivion, free of intrusions into the blankness of his much-needed sleep.

back to kisara's POV next chapter, and back to another oh-so-exciting day of school. :