I've never understood Shadi as a character. I feel like he was supposed to represent one thing in the beginning of the story, and ended up something else entirely by the end. I think a lot of the characters ended up going through a transformation like that, but Shadi's shift is one of the more confounding, I think.
I cannot, for the life of me, figure that bastard out.
I have a tendency to think of him as a villain, although I suppose I don't have too much evidence to back that up. I don't think canon actually wants us to think that; especially considering his part in Dark Side of Dimensions. I think Shadi is supposed to be a neutral force, a plot beat.
But I can't help but look at all the various things that happened in the story that only happened because of his bullshit—see: Pegasus Crawford, Malik Ishtar—and I can't help but think that the plot beats he's responsible for don't paint him as a decent man.
Ghost.
Whatever.
I guess my point is, now that Seti is on Seto's side, I needed another antagonist for Seto to vent his frustrations on. Or, well, for someone to vent his frustrations on. Shadi seemed an expedient choice, considering he's holding two of the Items all on his lonesome.
Maybe I just wanted to fuck with him a bit.
I've done more for less.
Verse One.
Seto was just stepping onto his back porch when the door to Kaiba Manor flew open, and Kisara Mayer barreled past the threshold, eyes wild. "Mister Kaiba! Thank Christ you're . . . done? You're done, right? Please tell me you're done."
"What's the matter?" Seto asked sharply. "What happened?"
"Your brother just called. He said he went to see Yugi Mutou about something, and there's some kind of . . . I don't know, look, there's somebody there and he's after something, I don't know what it is! I was the first person Noa was able to reach, and he says you need to get there as soon as you can!"
Seto nodded. His eyes snapped to Mokuba. "Kid. You know what to do."
"Yes, Niisama."
Seto gestured for Kisara to follow him. "Come with me," he said.
He guided his guest through the ground floor, through mazelike passages through the staffrooms, to a space that Kisara never would have been able to find, even with explicit instructions. Inside this storage room was, apparently, a full army's worth of survival equipment: weapons, tools, first aid kits, go bags, ropes, hooks, backpacks, tents, preserved food, cans, tins, canteens. Anything and everything a person might ever need to survive, seemingly in any environment, seemed present in this absolute trove. It crossed Kisara's mind that her father would love this room. It would be his personal Nirvana.
Seto quickly handed Kisara a first aid kit. "Do you have experience with firearms?" he asked quickly; Kisara shook her head. Seto nodded, then handed her a survival knife, a heavy baton, a cannister of pepper spray. "Do not fight," he said, "if you don't have to. If you see an opening to run, take it. This is not cowardice; it's survival. I have no idea what we're walking into, but if Noa is calling for backup, then I can't rule out anything. Normally I would ask that you remain here at the house, for your own safety, but I think you will be safest at my side."
Kisara didn't speak, but she nodded.
Seto quickly set himself up with a multitude of things, strapping and clipping them to himself with the ease of long practice.
It took longer than it should have for Kisara to realize that someone new was entering into the room, behind her. The man was dressed in a sharp black suit; he had a sleek little mustache and short-cropped black hair that was going grey at the temples. He wore shades that obscured his eyes.
"Sir," said the man. "The car is ready."
Seto nodded. He turned to Kisara again. "This man is Roland Ackerman. He's my head of security. If, for whatever reason, I am incapacitated: follow his lead. Understand? Whatever he suggests you do, do it."
Kisara nodded. She was surprised at how unsurprised the eldest Kaiba was at this development.
As she clutched the baton in one hand, and the first aid kit in the other, Kisara realized that there was a part of her, a deep part, a primeval part, that found this song and dance all too familiar; not just preparing for a crisis, not just heading into the unknown, but specifically following this man's instructions.
She was only slightly surprised when she next saw Seto Kaiba's eyes, and wondered why she would have ever expected them to be the color of icebergs. She'd seen the man's eyes before.
Hadn't she?
By the time she, Seto, and Roland made it out to the front gardens, Mokuba was already standing at attention by his brother's car.
Verse Two.
For Mokuba Kaiba, watching his brother was an art form. He was so well-versed in Seto's various mannerisms and idiosyncrasies that he could pinpoint the man's mood at a distance, based on how he was standing, or walking, or sitting, or talking; he could tell if Seto was in a bad mood by a quick glance at his cufflinks.
So, it was no surprise that Mokuba was the first person to notice.
First was Seto's eye. Mokuba knew that Seto hadn't accepted the Millennium Eye, at least not the way that Pegasus Crawford had, just based on the fact that Seto still had both eyes in his head. Mokuba was glad for this. But this didn't mean that the Eye hadn't accepted Seto, and so the subtle shift in the color of Seto's left eye, from bright blue to shimmering gold, told the young Kaiba all he needed to know.
It was, thus, a simple matter of course to watch the Eye of Horus slowly, snakelike, etch itself into Seto's pupil.
Next came his neck: the Torque wound its way around his throat; not the actual, physical thing, but its essence. Its power, its aura. It wove itself into him like a tattoo, obstructed but not hidden by Seto's collar. When Mokuba saw the axeblades of the Rod, spreading like wings on Seto's wrist, he understood.
Something about what Seto had done was different from Atem on a fundamental level. Seto wasn't claiming the Millennium Items; it was more that he was recruiting them, and they were leaving their mark on him as a symbol, showing that they were claiming him.
"Niisama . . . do you feel different?"
Seto squinted at Mokuba. "Compared to what?" he asked.
"Just . . . when you usually take the field like this." Mokuba gestured. "All this stuff that's been going on, all this magic, I just feel like it would be making a difference. It's literally leaving a mark on you, so like. You know."
Seto lifted his right arm and twisted it so that he could see his inner wrist. He grunted. "Huh. So it is." He sounded spectacularly unimpressed. Mokuba eyed his brother suspiciously. "I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say, kiddo. Just because I'm learning about all this nonsense and how it works doesn't mean I like it any more than I used to."
"If you're learning how it works," Mokuba protested, "doesn't that make it not nonsense?"
"Not at all," said Seto. "Nonsense is nonsense, even when you understand it. Talk to a linguist about the English language if you want to know more about that dichotomy." Kisara, from her place in the backseat, barked a sudden laugh. Seto gestured behind him. "See? I know what I'm talking about."
"What do you think we're gonna find at Yugi's place?" Mokuba asked, instead of wrestling with this conundrum.
Seto tightened his grip on the wheel. "If we're lucky," he mumbled, "it's going to be one of the other bearers. If what Ishtar said is true, then the gods are paying attention now. They probably want this to be done as quickly as I do."
"Why would you say that?" Mokuba asked. "What do they want out of this?"
"They want to punish my hubris," Seto said darkly.
Verse Three.
Noa Kaiba wasn't sure what he'd expected, once he finally got hold of Kisara Mayer and told her to fetch his elder. He knew Seto would show up, eventually; that much was inevitable. Noa just hadn't been able to work out what might happen once he did.
The last thing he expected was for the front doors to Turtle Game to burst open like overripe fruit.
The figure in white robes went sailing across the shop and crashed into an empty wall by the poster display. Seto Kaiba strode inside. He didn't have a hand up; he didn't have a weapon. He didn't have anything. But Noa, like Mokuba, was keyed in to his brother, and so he immediately noticed the way that Seto's left eye blazed with golden light.
"I am . . . getting tired of people throwing their weight around my family," Seto said softly, but his voice thundered through Noa's head like a physical thing. His footsteps echoed. He turned his attention, almost lazily, to the figure in white robes.
Who promptly crumpled to the floor and struggled to stand upright.
"So," Seto said, "you would be Shadi."
The figure in white robes finally rose to his full height, adjusting the turban he wore. His piercing, smoky blue eyes found Seto; there was no surprise, no pain, no recognition, in Shadi's expression. He was like a puppet masquerading as a man, especially considering how slowly and deliberately he moved.
Seto looked around the shop and took note of the people present: Yugi Mutou and Joey Wheeler stood in front of the shop's main counter; Téa Gardner and Tristan Taylor were hunkered behind it. Noa was standing in between Yugi and Shadi. When the two Kaibas found each other's eyes, a sudden understanding came to them both.
Noa nodded, even though Seto didn't speak, and stepped away.
The time had come for the eldest Kaiba to take the floor.
"You have not chosen the Items," Shadi said, softly, hauntingly. "They have chosen you."
Seto glanced down at his right wrist, then back at Shadi. "So it would seem," he said. "Is that a problem for you? Is that why you've decided to throw a tantrum in here, instead of finding me directly?"
"You overestimate yourself, child," Shadi said.
"You overestimate my patience," Seto replied. "If your reason for harassing these people hasn't anything to do with me, then that's worse. I'd much prefer you to be a callous manipulator. It's better, at least, than a petulant ghost." His golden eye gleamed threateningly. "Which one are you, I wonder?"
"You haven't the liberty to pass judgment on me," Shadi said. "Not yet."
"Then let's get on with it," Seto snapped. "I'm here. You're here."
Shadi closed his eyes. "You misunderstand the nature of this challenge."
All at once, a shocking pulse met the air; it sent Noa reeling against the counter in between Yugi and Joey. Seto's remaining blue eye was no longer deep and dark, but ice-colored.
Verse Four.
"You misunderstand the nature of this challenger," said Seto, but not with Seto's voice. Noa realized immediately that he knew that voice, just as much as he knew the color of that eye. The last time he'd seen his brother like this, the last time he'd heard his brother like this, he'd been quite sure that one of them was about to die.
Now, here he was, standing off to one side, off the battlefield entirely.
Waiting.
Noa didn't need clarification. He knew what it meant that Seto's left eye was glowing, and he knew what it meant to see a tattoo-like mark wrapped around his throat. He knew that, if he got a good look, he would see a similar tattoo on his brother's wrist.
Three. Just yesterday, he had one. Now, not even a full twenty-four hours later, he had three.
For the first time, an honest emotion crossed Shadi's face:
Surprise.
"You who speak to me," said Shadi, in something close to a whisper, "are no child."
"No," Seti agreed. He reached up and swept back his host's hair. "In an era long behind this one, while walking the ruins of my great nation, guiding its people to rebuild, I founded an order. That order would guard the Golden Seven, oversee their slumber, and guard the location of their Holy Cradle. I am Seti, Son of the Bright Pillar, Lord of the Red Land, He who Cradled the Great Unifier. You, servant of kings, my servant, have been challenged. Do you accept, or do you yield?"
Shadi closed his eyes again. He reached into the voluminous sleeves of his robes, retrieving two golden artifacts: a heavy ankh and a set of scales.
"If it be the will of kings," he said, "that this challenge is answered, then I shall answer it." He met Seto's gaze. There was a moment where nothing happened, nothing at all, and Noa found himself wondering whether they were about to take twenty paces and pull pistols.
He would have loved to say that he had unshakable faith in his brother; Noa wished he could summon Mokuba's fervor in that way. But he had already seen what Shadi could do, firsthand, and it struck him that it was a stroke of the devil's luck that Seto had—somehow—convinced his ancestor to work with him.
Whatever Shadi was, whatever forces he commanded, wasn't something for human beings to contend with; he was something beyond mortal ken. Noa thought he understood the world better than most, having studied it from the outside for so long, but he'd never been prepared for this.
He wondered if Seto was.
Noa thought, more than a little dismayed, that he had his answer when he shot forward and caught his brother's body as Seto crumpled, unconscious, into his arms. The golden gleam was gone from his eyes. Everything was gone from his eyes.
Noa would have panicked, indeed he probably would have already bolted from the room, if not for the fact that Shadi collapsed at the same moment; it was the only thing that told Noa this was supposed to happen.
. . . He hoped, anyway.
Verse Five.
Yugi wanted to speak. He wanted, needed, to say something. He needed to warn Noa what was happening. He could already see, in his periphery, that Joey was watching. He, too, was apparently unable to speak. Yugi thought that, if he looked back behind him at the others—if he could look back at the others—they too would be open-mouthed and speechless.
The magic was upon them all, and this magic was something stronger than they had ever dealt with in the past. The fact that Noa was able to move at all—as little as he could, which wasn't much—was a testament both to his strength of will and the superhuman endurance of his body.
A spirit of vengeance, an ancient ghost with blood on his teeth, stalked behind Noa Kaiba's back. It wore Ryo Bakura's body like a shroud, as it always did, and Yugi didn't need to guess. He knew the spirit of the Ring had been waiting for this. He knew the spirit was banking on Seto and Shadi both being rendered helpless, unable to fight back, by their own game. The spirit had been counting on this. The spirit had been salivating at the thought of this.
Yugi didn't know if the gods would stop him or not.
All he knew was that he couldn't.
And this time, for whatever reason, neither could Atem.
Yugi could only hope that Noa would notice, and be able to do something, before the spirit pounced; he could only hope that Noa was strong enough to fight back against . . . whatever this was. This miasma of magic that surrounded them all, rendering them thick with lethargy and barely able to even breathe, much less affect their surroundings; it was all they could do to bear witness.
The spirit clutched the Millennium Ring in one hand, and the tines were stiff and unyielding, like knives . . . or fangs. Yugi was quite sure that one of those tines, if not all of them, would soon be wet with blood. He wished he could do something about it. He wished he could step in, wished he could just force himself to speak, to intervene, but he couldn't. He just . . . couldn't. Yugi Mutou was back in school, a helpless coward too terrified to step in and help the people he cared about, to stand up against injustice even as it unfolded in front of him.
The air was too thick, and it took everything in him just to pull it into his lungs.
The spirit struck.
Noa Kaiba whirled, faster than any human being should have ever been able to move, and gripped the damnable artifact with his right hand while he reached out and took hold of Ryo's throat with the other. The spirit growled at him, twisting Ryo's face into something unrecognizable, something blasphemous.
"I don't think so," Noa hissed, moving slowly, forcing the spirit to move Ryo's body with him. "Not today. I've had just about enough of you assholes. You have not earned the right to underestimate us." He stepped forward, and the spirit was forced to take a step back; so it went, over and over, until Ryo's back was pressed against the wall. Noa forced him down into a sitting position, and Yugi knew this wasn't just any show of strength he was watching.
If the man holding him was anyone but Noa Kaiba, the spirit of the Ring surely would have snapped his bones like cheap wood.
"When a Kaiba tells you to sit down," Noa growled, eyes gleaming like torches in a dungeon, "you sit down."
END.