To the Victor Go the Spoils
Hope everyone had a lovely Christmahannukwanzah! Apologies again for the delay...figuring out how to end this chapter took me ages! Huge thanks to Toxic Hathor for helping me with that!
Rating: T for dark themes: insanity, violence, language.
Pairings: Mild Puzzleshipping (on the side), some twisted, one-sided Prideshipping.
Disclaimer: If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, I'd be able to speak Japanese (since, you know, it originated in that language). Unfortunately, I can't. Oh well!
Italics indicate thoughts or emphasis.
Yugi gasped for air as he sprinted as fast as he could towards the dueling platforms. Gods, this arena is HUGE, he thought, mentally groaning at the distance between him and his destination. Kaiba had chased Yami around the platforms and he could hear shouting and fighting, but nothing clear enough for him to know who was winning. The platforms and dueling field were so high, he couldn't see anything on the other side – the result of being sized so that even people in the nosebleed seats of the gigantic stadium could see the action.
Hang in there, Yami, he thought fiercely, I'm coming! No way was he going to let Kaiba harass him again. Yami had put himself in harm's way more than once to ensure Yugi's safety; it was time to return the favor.
As he approached the platforms, he heard Kaiba start screaming that Yami belonged to him, ranting wildly about ice and fire. A low growl that had to be Yami responded and suddenly things got quiet. Too quiet. Yugi sped up, rounding the corner…
…and stopped, staring in horror at the scene before him.
They were nearly at the opposite end of the platform. Kaiba had Yami pinned to the wall…by the throat. On his face was an expression of mingled fury, possessive greed and flat-out crazed glee. Oh gods, he was holding him up by his neck, and Yami was choking, struggling for air…but his struggles were weak; he was slowing down…dying.
No. Oh gods, no, Yami couldn't give up…no, not now!
"Yami!" he screamed, kicking himself back into a dead sprint, running as fast as he could towards the pair. Kaiba's head snapped to him and he half-sneered, half-snarled at him, a wordless warning to keep back. Yugi had no intention of listening.
Yami's struggles slowed to mere twitches. No! No, hold on! Hold on, Yami, please! he thought desperately. Kaiba looked back at his captive, smirking in sadistic satisfaction.
The twitches stopped. Yami's desperate grip on Kaiba's hand slackened and his hand fell.
Yugi fought the urge to stop, stare and scream. NO, he mentally wailed, NO, PLEASE…you CAN'T give up, you CAN'T…
Then he suddenly felt filled with anger, a burning, anguished fury that seemed to give him new strength. With a scream that was half-challenge, half-plea, he launched himself into the air, jumping as high as he could…
…And landed on Kaiba's back. Perfect! He threw his arms around his neck as though to ride him piggyback-style and squeezed with all his might. Let Kaiba feel what he did to Yami, let HIM panic… The taller man choked at the sudden lack of air, dropping the now-limp former pharaoh as he reached back, trying to grab Yugi.
But Yugi had other ideas. Growling angrily, he shifted so that he slid off his back to the side, kicking at him as hard as he could while maintaining his grip on his neck. Kaiba jerked at the blows, becoming disoriented as Yugi's death-grip pulled his head towards the floor, so he was nearly bent double when Yugi's feet touched the ground. He backed up immediately, back and to the side, away from the crumpled heap that was his darker half, causing the CEO to stumble along, his arms flailing as they tried unsuccessfully to make contact with the tiny duelist.
He was shouting, he realized, shouting at Kaiba, but what exactly, he couldn't tell; his mouth had a mind of its own as he yanked him around by the neck, steering him headfirst into the wall that separated the duelists from the spectators. Kaiba grunted in pain, and he did it again, fury pounding in his ears and narrowing his focus.
Shouts behind him. Familiar voices. He checked himself for a moment, faltering in his onslaught…and that moment was all that Kaiba needed. A long arm shot out, swinging wildly and connecting with Yugi's side. He grunted at the sudden pain, inadvertently loosening his grip on the taller man, who broke free so violently that Yugi stumbled forward a step or two.
Kaiba turned on him, a look of absolute hatred blazing on his face. "You fucking brat," he snarled. Yugi didn't give him a chance to continue; he launched himself forward again, kicking out, his foot slamming into the sensitive area right between his legs. The lanky duelist doubled over yet again in pain, and Yugi punched him in the eye, sending him stumbling backward.
"You're INSANE," he shouted. "Out of your MIND, and you'll NEVER have Yami and you'll never have ME! YOU'LL NEVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN, YOU BASTARD!" He leaped again, but Kaiba was prepared this time; his arms shot out and caught Yugi right as he jumped.
He pulled Yugi close to his face. "I," he snarled, "will fucking end you." And he threw Yugi as hard as he could. Yugi felt all his breath leave him as he slammed into the floor, rolling over and over. He struggled to get up, but he was completely winded; he scooted back, not knowing where the demented CEO was but hoping to buy himself a little time to get his breath back.
Footsteps. He realized his eyes were closed, and he forced them open. His breath was returning, and he struggled up, determined to keep fighting. A kick to his stomach sent him flying again, pain erupting through his abdomen.
"Mine…" a soft hiss above him snaked its way into his ear, making him shudder. His eyes were closed again, but he was more concerned with breathing properly. "You're mine now, you fucking shrimp, you're finished you're mine just like him just like him and I will end you, break you for touching what's mine, it's mine he's mine…"
"YUG!" A thump and a thwack made him jump and he forced his eyes open. Joey was struggling with Kaiba, three security guards running up to help. "YOU KEEP YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS OFF HIM, ASSHOLE," his best friend thundered as Kaiba kept up his string of obscenities and crazed threats, no longer speaking in coherent sentences.
Yugi pulled himself up, ready to help, but Joey aimed a well-placed punch to Kaiba's face, causing him to stumble right into the arms of two security guards, who immediately began to subdue him.
"You all right, Yug?" Joey asked, looking worried as he disentangled himself from the fight. But Yugi barely heard him. He was looking over at the dueling platform, at the third security guard who was kneeling over his other half, checking his vital signs. Then he bent down further, beginning to administer CPR. Yugi felt himself go numb. Slowly, he started to jog towards them, denial pounding in his head…he couldn't have been too late, he couldn't…
A jerk, a strangled gasp. Another jerk, as Yami's body responded to the air being forced into his lungs. Hacking coughs reached Yugi's ears as the guard turned his other half gently on his side, allowing him to curl up and cough out anything in his windpipe. Those grating, rasping gasps couldn't have sounded sweeter.
Relief poured through him as he reached them, plopping down beside the guard, who moved out of his way, touching Yami's shoulder gently. Tears of worry and happiness pricked his eyes and he blinked furiously. "It's okay," he said softly, his voice breaking. "It's okay, I'm here; you're going to be okay."
Yami managed to shift, looking up at him. Exhausted relief spread across his features. "Aibou…" he croaked. "Stay with me."
Yugi gently brushed a stray bang out of his face. "Of course," he whispered.
...
Seto struggled against the arms trying to hold him down. He could barely see what he was doing but he had to get away, had to get out, had to find the brat and finish the job and win and win and win. No no NO, where was he, where were they, they were HIS AND HIS, HIS HIS HIS THEY BELONGED TO HIM they couldn't resist anymore, they were done and he was winning no he had won and won he had WON HE'D WON THEY LOST AND LOST AND LOST…
He felt himself get shoved to his knees. No, no, he would not be cuffed like a prisoner, he wouldn't he wouldn't he was king and you just didn't DO this to kings! They didn't do it to HIM, no no never, but where was he, where was he…
THERE. A crumpled heap, just as he imagined, just as he DREAMED, the KING OF GAMES in a crumpled, broken heap at his feet! YES AND YES AND YES, HE WAS HIS, HE WAS FINALLY HIS.
"Dude, shut up," a rough voice behind him growled, sounding irritated and disturbed. But they had to understand, had to see his victory, his absolute victory, he'd finally won, everything and everything and everything and everything was his! HIS AND HIS! MINEMINEMINEMINEEEEE!
"Man, they weren't kidding," another voice said, "he really is off his effin' rocker." Let them sneer, let them mock but soon they'd see, they'd see his ultimate victory, his greatest win his greatest prize his greatest EVERYTHING…
…What? Who was that by his side? Kissing him goodbye, was he, some guard some fan mourning the LATE King of Games…?
Jerk. Groan. Cough. NO. NOOOOOOOOO NO NO NONONONO!
Seto felt as though the ground beneath him had shattered like a piece of cheap glass. HOW COULD HE LIVE? HOW COULD HE BE ALIVE HOW COULD HE, IT COULDN'T BE! NONONONONOOOOO HE WAS LOST AND GONE AND DEFEATED.
And…HIM. The fucking SHRIMP, how the FUCK was he alive and well and walking and nonono he couldn't, NO HE COULDN'T GO TO HIM NO DON'T TOUCH HIM YOU FUCKING BASTARD HE'S MINE HE'S MINE MINE MINE MINEEEEEEEE DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!
Fury like he had never known before coursed through him, sharpening his vision to a clarity that was painful to behold. No, he couldn't let this happen, not now when he was so close…he had to finish it, had to finish it and win and win and let the world know who was his…
"Seto!" a familiar voice called his name, but he was too focused on the pharaoh, slowly being helped into a sitting position by that fucking hikari of his. No, no, he would end it, he would end THEM…
With a snarl and a jerk that took all his strength, he broke free of the guards' grip. He saw only Yami, only him and Yugi and the desire to claim and destroy burned and raged inside him, eating him alive and he lurched towards them, stumbling and growling, the madness churning and glowing in his eyes. The brat's head snapped up to look at him, half in fear, half in anger; his fucking pharaoh stared at him, too weak to rise, half-fascinated, half-horrified. Yugi rose and stood in front of Yami, HISMYFUCKINGYAMI, glaring at him.
Oh, it was going to be a fight again, was it now, he just DIDN'T know when to give up, the fucking brat, but he would show him he'd show him he'd end him…
"Seto! Stop!" that voice again. He ignored it, snarling at the spiky-haired pair, his hands reaching out…
…And captured again, hauling him back, dragging him away, as he tried to keep his feet. NO, NO NO NO NOOOO HE COULDN'T LET THEM WIN COULDN'T LET THEM WIN NO HE WAS HIS GODDAMNIT HIS AND HIS HIS HIS…
He struggled, trying to get away, trying to get back and finish what he started, when his hand knocked something. He stared as a hand-sized black walkie-talkie clattered to the ground. A walkie-talkie. He'd knocked off one of the guards' walkie-talkies.
He could use this. Yes yesyesyes he could…
He gave it all his strength. Wrenching one hand free, he grabbed the device, surprisingly heavy for being a product mostly made of plastic. His eyes found red-violet, that flame and fire and fire that wouldn't burn out that was still burning and burning…
"SETO, STOP!"
He hurled it with everything he had, aiming for his head, aiming to kill, aiming to end. To win.
A blur of black. A mop of black that blurred into his vision. And suddenly his vision cleared.
Time slowed down as Mokuba ran at him, coming between him and the two duelists. Right into the path of the walkie-talkie.
THWACK.
Mokuba fell.
Everything came to a screeching halt. Sight. Sound. Thought. For the first time in what felt like years, his head was quiet. He stared. Stared in absolute horror.
Mokuba…no…oh gods…
His knees gave way, and he fell to his knees, staring silently at his brother. He'd always been there for him. Always. They'd looked out for each other since their days in the orphanage; Seto had devoted his life to KaibaCorp to ensure his future.
How could he do something like this? How could he…how could he hurt his little brother?
Vaguely, he felt the chill of metal as handcuffs secured his wrists behind his back, but he no longer cared. All he cared about was Mokuba. Mokuba on the ground, down because he'd gotten hit right in the head. Because of him.
Please let him be okay…I'm sorry, Mokuba, I'm so sorry…
He watched numbly as Joey and a guard approached his brother, crouching to check his vital signs. Gods, how could he have let this happen? How could he have been so blind that he didn't see him?
Joey breathed a sigh of relief. "He's gonna be okay," he said softly, and everyone seemed to relax.
The guard near him nodded. "He'll be awake in a few minutes. Probably won't be worse for wear, except for a nice lump on his head."
Glorious relief mixed with the terrible guilt that ate at his insides, that had finally quelled the voices and quenched the fire. His brother was going to be okay. He felt his eyes burn and his breath become ragged. He'd be okay…he'd be okay…no thanks to himself. But he'd be okay.
A shadow passed near him. He looked up…
Two sets of violet eyes met his. Yugi, his eyes holding sorrow, wariness…relief. Yami…Yami. Leaning heavily on his other half, Yugi's arm around his waist, firmly supporting most of his weight. Yami. Those red-violet eyes held no pity, no vengeance, no anger. His expression was unreadable. For a moment, they stayed there, looking down at the elder Kaiba. The King of Games.
Then, they turned to leave, Joey following behind to lend a hand. Seto felt himself crumble on the inside.
They'd won. The true King of Games and his protégé, the two halves of a whole, had won. They'd never truly been defeated, had they? No…no, they never truly had. Never beaten, never conquered. And now they were walking away, the true victors of his game.
His game. It was supposed to be his finest hour, the culmination of his final victory. But instead, instead…The last card had been drawn, the final turn had ended. Mokuba had gotten hurt. And he was left, as he so often had been, with nothing. Nothing and nothing and nothing. And always, always, they walked away…
…victory in their hands. Not his. Never his.
Sounds nearby. Words. But no words could solve this. He had failed. The failure was his and his and his alone, and it was all his fault. His fault that Mokuba was hurt, his fault that the King of Games had nearly died. His fault that he'd lived to walk away, lived to stare at him with that calm, fiery gaze. His fault. His failure. Those eyes burned into his skull, driving the point home. Defeated, he was, beaten at his own game with only himself to blame for it.
He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't fight like this anymore. Gods, he was tired, so tired; he'd tried so hard, so hard…but no, no, no, it was over…it was over and Mokuba…he would never be able to look him in the face again. He was nothing now, nothing and no one and there was nothing more he could do but give in.
Everything, he'd lost. Everything and everything. Just like every other duel. He lost everything. Only this time, it was for good…there was no turning back.
He bowed his head. Very well, King of Games. You win.
Icy flames shattered and burnt their last.
The end.
Sort of, anyway. There is an epilogue that I've got in first-draft form; hopefully, I'll get that all figured out in the next week or two.
Hope you all have a fun and wonderful New Year's! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing; I really appreciate it...and I'll see you all in 2010!