Two days before…

"How dare you do this to me?" Seto Kaiba hissed, just barely restraining himself from hauling the smaller duelist into the air. He was quivering with anger. Yami watched him coolly, his crimson eyes narrowed.

Kaiba continued. "This…trick does not amuse me, Yugi. Undo it now!"

"It cannot be undone, dear Seto." The speaker rose from his seat and stepped toward Seto, voice faintly mocking. Reddish-brown hair framed a thin, tanned face dominated by a pair of deep blue eyes. "Do not blame Pharaoh for his actions."

Kaiba smirked. "Let Yugi speak for himself. Or are you afraid that I'll hurt your precious Pharaoh?"

The other man's answering smirk was identical and just as provocative. "No, you're too insignificant to pose a threat."

"Kaiba," Pharaoh interrupted before the doubles could come to actual blows. "Seth is here to help me recover my memories. Your connection to him is entirely accidental."

"And regrettable," Seth added. A glare from his king made him subside, but the mocking grin didn't fade.

"If you want to remember your first birthday or something, Yugi, go see a doctor!" Kaiba snapped.

Yami's face was unusually solemn. "I'd settle for my name, Kaiba."

Something in Yugi's expression stopped Kaiba's instinctive sarcastic remark. He settled for one of his famous death glares.

"Just keep him," He jabbed a finger in Seth's direction, "away from me."

The door to the game shop slammed, and Yami sighed. In his soul room, Yugi winced.

'Wow, I haven't seen Kaiba so angry for a long time, Pharaoh.'

"He's afraid."

Yami, still in Yugi's body, turned to look at Seth. "Kaiba, afraid?"

Seth nodded. "He's afraid that he won't be able to explain this away. Seto's stubborn and he hates being wrong. To accept my existence would be to validate the existence of magic itself. It would completely alter his world view. So he's afraid." Off Pharaoh's look, he added. "We share the same soul, remember?"

'I just hope he'll be alright,' Yugi said worriedly.

"Kaiba's strong," Yami replied. "He'll survive."

Seth said nothing, but only stared out the door after his retreating light.


As Seto Kaiba's limo carried him farther and farther from the game shop, the CEO began to notice an ache in his chest even as his anger slowly faded. It was a strange ache, almost as though something were missing, as though his heart was forced to beat a trifle harder to pump blood through his body. Seto leaned back against the luxuriant seats and tried to ignore it.

The mansion came into view ahead and Seto sighed in relief. The limo slowly rolled up the driveway, tires crunching on the gravel, and came to halt. The door slammed as Seto climbed out. He was still a little angry, and the continuing ache wasn't helping.

"Roland, I will need the car again at 5:00. Don't be late."

"Yes sir."

The big car began to roll again and disappeared down the driveway in the direction of the underground garage. Seto carried his briefcase through the huge doors of the mansion and deposited it on a table. His entire body aching now, Seto collapsed onto a couch and closed his eyes.

"Ignoring the truth is exhausting, isn't it?"

Seto's eyes shot open. A familiar figure was seated on the other end of the couch. The man's blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Seth!" Seto leapt to his feet, favoring Seth with one of his most venomous glares. "I thought I told you to keep away from me!"

"You did. I didn't listen." Seth leaned back into the upholstery with a satisfied sigh. "Besides," he continued, placing a melodramatic hand over his heart, "it just hurts so much to be away from you…"

His grin frayed the last of Seto's nerves. "Get out of my house!"

Seth leaned forward, face suddenly serious. "It's true. We share the same soul, Seto Kaiba. If we are separated, the waning bond translates into physical pain."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Seto snapped, suddenly aware that the ache in his chest had disappeared.

The smirk was back on Seth's face. "Of course you don't."

"Look, I don't believe in magic, or in fairytales," Seto said, turning away and heading for the kitchen. Seth followed unperturbed.

"You desire physical proof then?"

Seto ignored him. Crossing to the far wall, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. As he began to lower his arm, a kitchen knife thrown with deadly accuracy penetrated his sleeve, pinning him to the wall. He let out an involuntary cry. Before he could reach for the handle, Seth had crossed the kitchen and was grinding it further into the plaster.

"I'm real, Seto, whether you like it or not."

"Then this should hurt," Seto growled. With his free hand, he punched his double as hard as he could. It was an awkward angle with his off-hand, but Seth staggered back anyway.

He wiped the blood from his split lip with a slightly amused expression and gave a mocking bow. "I'll leave you alone then, Seto." Then he was gone.

Seto pulled the knife free from the wall with some effort and looked at the hole in his sleeve.

"So you can bleed." His gaze turned to the long knife in his hand. His grip tightened compulsively. "That's good to know."

He forced himself to ignore the physical ache that accompanied Seth's departure.


"In related news, KaibaCorp's long-awaited new Duel Disk system was released yesterday to wild enthusiasm from gamers worldwide. Analysts estimate that the company has made almost a million dollars so far. The credit for KaibaCorp's success rests on Seto Kaiba, the youngest CEO in the business world and the original designer of holographic technology. Quite an accomplishment for a high school junior! And what does KaibaCorp's success mean for the smaller companies in the gaming industry…?

"Ruin," the listener snarled, jabbing the button on the television to mute it. The reporter prattled on, but the man ignored her, staring instead at the picture of Seto Kaiba that had appeared on the screen. It was an old photo of the CEO shaking hands with Maximillian Pegasus as he triumphantly demonstrated the first holographic projection. The man studied Kaiba's proud, regal bearing and confident smirk and a wave of hatred swept through him.

"If only he vere gone!"

The beginnings of an idea formed. He opened his desk drawer and gazed at the deadly piece of metal inside. Hatred surged through him again and he repeated the words like a curse: "If only he vere gone."