Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From Kaiba Seto's journal:

Seto paused, looking over what he'd written and thinking. Should he write about the nightmares? He'd just awoken from one and finally started writing, and it had happened days ago. Yet the nightmares kept coming, and they were as vivid as ever. It was a wonder he didn't wake up screaming.

And that was the hell of it, really. If it had just been losing, for fuck's sake, Seto thought, I could let it go. The problem was the sheer disrespect that guy had shown him. He didn't just beat him, he took delight in rubbing his face in it; knocking him down and then kicking him with this “Experience of Death” for good measure.

After locking the journal away in his briefcase, Seto jammed the pen into the mug Mokuba had given him: Best Brother Ever! Was even the mug mocking him?

As if to punctuate Seto's fury, a soft knocking was heard.

“Nii-sama?” Mokuba slowly opened the door, looking at him with those large, worried eyes of his.

Seto sighed deeply. He knew this was coming. He didn't know how they'd managed to both keep Isono from calling in mental health professionals—it must have been Mokuba's doing—and keep Gozaburo from becoming involved, but somehow things had worked out. This, despite the fact that Seto had been immersed in that “Experience of Death” for—how long? It felt like days—it must have been an hour. It had taken him several days to recover. He was only now beginning to feel like himself again … only angrier, somehow. It's like that boy had kicked a dog that Seto would have much rather had left sleeping for his entire lifetime: Cerberus, maybe.

And now Mokuba wanted to talk about it.

It isn't his fault, Seto told himself, trying not to glare at the boy as he forced himself to look over toward him. To distract himself, he got up and got into bed, sitting up against the piled pillows and pulling up the covers above his waist.

Mokuba took this as a signal to bound over to the bed and jump on with him and give him a tight hug. “I was so worried about you!” he exclaimed. “You had th-that look on your face for so long. Are you OK now?”

“I'm fine,” he said flatly, his jaw painfully set.

“Good! I mean … the 'lesson' Gozaburo assigned—it's almost due. This is really bad timing for this sort of thing.”

“I know,” Seto said irritably. He felt like he wanted to break something, and had to restrain himself from pushing Mokuba off the bed. His mood disturbed him. That sort of impulse—violence against Mokuba—shouldn't even surface in his mind, and yet, this blinding rage was pushing him more and more. It was all his fault. His and Gozaburo's. He had to get them both out of his life.

Mokuba was right after all. They absolutely had to complete their plan. “We finish this ASAP. I have something else I have to do right away, and I can't start until that's done.”

“Something else?” Mokuba sounded unsure, but didn't ask about it. Instead, he asked the question Seto was dreading. “So … Nii-sama, when are you planning on telling me about what happened with that kid?”

Well, I wasn't, Seto couldn't help thinking as Mokuba plowed on, “Isono said—well, he said he heard you yelling when that kid was leaving, and he had to restrain you. It was good that you calmed down before too long, but we still had to hide you so that Gozaburo wouldn't find out. It was lucky that it was Isono with you that day and not someone else or …”

We'd be up shit creek. Mokuba didn't have to finish that thought. It was obvious. Fuck it, Seto thought, I don't want to talk about it.

But Mokuba just wouldn't leave it alone, and reached out to shake his knee. “Nii-sama, you have to snap out of it! I mean, our plan! We're almost done, and we need you at full power, right?” Mokuba waited for his brother to answer, and when he didn't, he said, “At least tell me what happened, Seto. Don't we talk about everything?”

“Tell me how talking about it is going to help!” Seto blurted out. “It's not like it's going to change anything. Just because we talk things over doesn't mean … It's too unbelievable.”

“I don't care if you both teleported to the moon,” Mokuba said. “If you tell me it's so, it's so. You promised you'd never lie to me.”

“I won't. But I don't see why that means I have to tell you every little thing.”

“This wasn't a 'little thing,' Nii-sama. You don't just … fall apart.”

“OK,” he said, slipping out of bed and standing up.

When Seto simply walked past him and out the door, Mokuba hurried behind him, saying “Wait, where are you going? 'OK'? What's that supposed to mean?”

“I'll tell you about it, but not here,” he said without breaking stride. Mokuba trotted after him all the way downstairs, out the door, through the manicured gardens and well into the natural gardens, pausing only to slip on shoes. Seto didn't stop until they arrived under the shade of an elm tree, where he seated himself. “I'll not have any of the servants listening in—or him.”

Gozaburo. Mokuba knew that Seto wouldn't talk about anything extremely sensitive within the walls of the mansion in case they were under surveillance of one kind or another.

“All right, go ahead. Tell me about it.”

Gradually Seto began to open up. And as the story began to trickle out, it gained force, like a spring thaw. Soon Seto had told him the entire story in minute detail, including each play of the Duel Monsters game and the odd change that had come over his opponent.

When he'd finished the two brothers sat in silence, staring into one another's eyes as Mokuba tried to comprehend it.

“But you say you're going to be OK?” Mokuba asked finally.

“Of course I am. It'll take a lot more than that to knock me down.”

“We can't let him get away with that!”

Seto smiled grimly. “Don't worry, I'm already putting plans in place to take care of that. But first, we have plenty to attend to with our so-called father.”

“I know, but …” Mokuba couldn't stop thinking of the vacant look that had been on his brother's face while he was recovering. If Gozaburo had seen, what would have become of them both? “So you said it was this Motou Yugi who did this?”

“Yes, but don't go anywhere near him,” Seto said. “He's dangerous. This 'penalty game' or whatever? It's nothing to mess around with.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. If I lost to him, you wouldn't stand a chance, and who knows what sort of penalty game he might impose on you? I'm not sure you could stand up to that sort of thing, Mokuba.”

“I get it, Seto,” Mokuba said, standing to go back toward the mansion. As much as he adored Seto, sometimes he hated being the weaker younger brother.

Mokuba felt Seto's hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Promise me,” Seto said. “Promise me you won't try to get revenge on your own.”

“I promise,” Mokuba said, shrugging Seto's hand off, but as he walked ahead and felt he was safely out of his brother's earshot, he added under his breath, “not to play into that kid's hands.”

Mokuba glanced over his shoulder. Seto was following, at an unusually slow pace in the twilight, his face even paler than usual in the light of the gathering stars. How could he? Mokuba thought. How could anyone dare hurt someone so magnificent as Seto? He had to be punished. Seto was planning on taking care of it, only Seto was the one who was always protecting him, Mokuba. For once Seto was the one who'd been hurt, and Mokuba wanted to take care of him for a change.

Watch out, Yugi! You'll be sorry!

“What's that, Nii-sama?” Mokuba lisped in a high, piping voice.

Seto looked at him, thinking that there was something not quite right about him, but he couldn't quite figure it out. They were sitting in a sandbox together, as they did so often after he came home from school. “This? It's the visitor's center. And this is the big roller coaster, and I'm going to make a Ferris wheel right here …”

Fashioning a Ferris wheel out of sand wasn't the easiest thing to do, and required water. He looked around for his green plastic pail, and as he did, the sandbox seemed to get larger and larger. The edges of the box were retreating from him on all sides, carrying Mokuba away, still sitting on one of the border slats.

“Mokuba!” he cried out, beginning to run, but it was no use. Sinking knee-deep into the sand with each step, he couldn't keep up with the expanding universe that was the sandbox. Soon he was standing in an endless landscape of shifting sands the color of freshly baked bread. The sun was glaring down on him from clear blue sky. The air was still and so dry that he could almost feel his skin crack.

Seto was overcome by the strangest feeling. He pressed his palms to his eyes.

I don't want to see this! Don't show me this!

With a jolt he opened his eyes.

He was awake again, staring into his cool, dark room. He could almost hear the thumping of his heart in the silence. He could certainly hear himself panting, gulping down air to supply his suddenly alert body. He seemed to have been flooded with adrenaline.

Frowning, he wondered how it could be. All he remembered seeing was an endless landscape of sand. It had nothing to do with him.

Still …

He had the strangest feeling that he did not want to stay there, in that place. What he might find there …

In fact, even thinking about that dream was—Fuck, it seemed somehow dangerous.

I have to make this stop!

This all started—all these dreams—yes, he didn't have any dreams like this before the Experience of Death. The dreams about the experience itself were bad enough—in fact, they were some of the worst nightmares he'd ever had—but, in some ways, this was worse.

Seto's mind wandered to his nascent plans for revenge. For some reason, that eased his mind a little. Perhaps it was just the idea of taking action—any action. He nodded to himself, his face rigid. I'm doing the right thing. Definitely. I have to make this stop.

Chapter Text

Isono hesitated before knocking on Kaiba Seto's door. He really didn't feel comfortable broaching this subject—particularly when Mokuba had specifically asked him not to tell Seto about it—but Seto was his employer and he owed him loyalty. If he didn't bring this up, the young man would never trust him again—not as slow to trust as he was. Anything having to do with his brother was of paramount importance to him.

Isono frowned, his hand suspended before the door. This had to be handled with the utmost delicacy. After the incident of a couple of weeks ago, Seto-sama hadn't exactly been himself. Losing to that boy had hurt his confidence, that was for certain. But it was what happened afterward that had shaken Isono to the core. The boy—that Yugi—had sauntered out of the school building with a jaunty manner that Isono had found all kinds of creepy. In response, Isono had raced in and found his master in some sort of trance, crying out inconsolably in a deserted hallway. He'd been greatly concerned that his young charge might injure himself, and was greatly pressed to find means to restrain him and quiet him during the few hours the strange trance had lasted. And even after that, the effect of the experience on Seto-sama had been … Isono sighed. Always impatient, Seto had become more irritable, demanding, and less tolerant of error than ever. That mood, strangely, had extended even to his brother, whom he usually doted on and spoiled horribly.

Sighing, Isono steeled himself and forced himself to rap lightly on the door.

“Who is it?” Seto sounded as irascible as ever.

“It's Isono, sir. I wouldn't disturb you, sir, but it's a matter that you—”

“Come in, then.”

Isono immediately entered, not wishing to earn censure by delaying. “Seto-sama, it's about Mokuba-sama. I'm sorry to report that he—” Isono finished as quickly as possible, the words tumbling out, “—had a run-in with Motou Yugi, sir.”

“He …” Seto's too-bright eyes focused on Isono. “And you didn't dissuade him?”

“I tried, sir, but you asked me to do as he says—”

Seto put up a hand, stopping Isono, then paused, knitting his hands together thoughtfully as he calmed down and thought it over. Finally he said, “I did. You have to treat him the same as you would me. And he has to learn to accept the consequences of his actions. You did well, Isono. Tell me everything that happened.”

Isono described everything that he knew, including what he'd gleaned from grilling a few of Mokuba's hangers-on. “I wasn't there to witness the game personally,” Isono explained. “And Mokuba-sama begged me not to tell you about it at all, but—”

“But I'm your employer,” Seto said with satisfaction, then frowned. “Actually, Gozaburo is ultimately your employer.”

Isono shrugged. “I don't think of it that way.”

“You're a fool, then.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Isono watched Seto carefully, hoping that he would leave the subject at that, and almost sighed with relief when Seto stopped looking at him like a prize racehorse and said, “Never mind, that situation is about to change. Don't tell Mokuba that you said anything. You may go.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but do you have any plans for dealing with your brother? When I found him, he was in a similar sort of trance as the one that I found you in.”

“You say he said it was a sort of claustrophobic thing?”

“Yes sir, he was given the impression of having been shut in a giant capsule.”

“Then it shouldn't be as traumatic as what I experienced.” Seto waved a hand. “He'll recover eventually, I'm sure.”

“That seems callous, sir. Shouldn't I at least schedule counseling, or …”

“He'll be fine. Look. I told him not to go near this Yugi in the first place, and what does he do?”

“You're not saying he deserves this, do you?”

“Isono, he challenged the man that beat me. Does he think he's better than I am?”

“Oh, no, surely not—”

“Then he doesn't believe that I can take care of my own business with this man? Something that I told him I was working on?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Well then? I can't comprehend what he might have been trying to accomplish with that.”

“Seto-sama, Mokuba adores you. I believe he just couldn't stand the idea of someone having harmed you like that and doing nothing—even if you ask it of him. He wants you to see him as worthy, as your brother, and as a gamer in his own right. Even if he can't reach your level. Honestly, I believe he just wants to help you.”

“And that's the problem,” Seto said, his arms folded. “Is there anything else you need to discuss?”

“No, sir,” Isono said, and, bowing, exited. He walked swiftly down the hallway toward the servant's quarters, worrying. The stress of Gozaburo's challenge, and now this thing with Yugi, whatever it was—all of it, everything, was becoming too much for one person to bear, especially a young man less than twenty. Even if he was a genius. The boy couldn't stand to rely on others.

That's the problem …

Isono glanced over his shoulder. He admired the boy for how he persevered despite everything. It would be such a tragedy if that mind should shatter just because he was so self-reliant. Wasn't self-sufficiency a virtue?

“Nii-sama …? D-do you want to talk about it?”

Mokuba watched his brother carefully as he looked himself over in his full-length mirror, adjusting his black suit. Only a few days had passed, but their lives were completely different now. “What's there to talk about? He's out of our life for good now,” Seto said, his face an expressionless mask.

“He wasn't supposed to—to die.”

“No. That was his choice. He couldn't face failure,” Seto said matter-of-factly. “Some people can't.”

“B-but … his body … disappeared.” Mokuba was wary of his brother's mood; he'd seemed oddly quiet and withdrawn ever since “the incident,” but it wasn't as though he wasn't quiet and withdrawn as a rule. It was just that these traits were even more pronounced now that Gozaburo was dead. “Don't you think that's … weird?”

“And then it reappeared at the funeral home, Mokuba,” Seto said evenly. “It's true that it's weird that the body disappeared before the cops even showed up, but what does it matter? He's dead all the same.” Seto smiled mirthlessly. “The Kaiba assets are mine—ours, Mokuba. Don't worry about it. Let's go, we have a funeral to attend.”

The funeral was a sort of odd performance ritual. If anyone present knew the secret of the missing time, they kept it to themselves. Meanwhile, those who were aware of the mystery refused to speculate about it. The remainder who were blissfully unaware that Gozaburo's body took a detour on the way to the funeral home sat calmly, unaware of the heavy atmosphere of foreboding that permeated the proceedings … for Mokuba, at least. He frequently glanced at his elder brother and saw nothing other than that carefully-contained emotionless mask.

The five executives that Seto had enlisted to help them take over KaibaCorp were all in attendance. It was clear that they were not happy, either. Mokuba felt their eyes on him and his brother like those of a pack of jackals.

After the funeral, Seto took Mokuba to an American-style restaurant, allowing him to order whatever he wanted. Normally given such an opportunity, he would have overdone it, coming home with a stomachache, but today, he simply ordered spaghetti and didn't even finish it, anxiously watching Seto as he silently consumed his filet of sole.

Every so often Mokuba opened his mouth to ask Seto a question, but then realized he had no idea what to ask him. And Seto's silence in itself seemed to say, “Please don't talk to me,” or rather, not so politely, “Shut up!”

When dessert came, Mokuba toyed with it, wanting to cry. He'd always imagined that the day they would finally be free of Gozaburo would be a joyous occasion that they'd celebrate together in some way—maybe not publicly, but in some way. He'd never imagined anything like this.

It hadn't been Gozaburo that held them together! Far from it. So why did his death seem to put this impenetrable wall between them?

When they got home, Mokuba ran to his room and cried into his pillow. His grief wasn't for the dead.

“Wait up! Wait up, Yugi!”

Yugi stopped in the hallway and looked over his shoulder. Jounouchi was hurrying down the school hallway to catch up with him. “I thought school would never end!” he exclaimed. “Want to go to the arcade?”

Yugi laughed. “You say that every day, but school always ends. I don't have to go straight home. Sure, we can go. Let's see if Anzu has … anything.” He couldn't mention her work while they were at school since students weren't allowed to have jobs.

“Let's. And let's ask Honda too.”

All four ended up going to the arcade.

Yugi quickly posted the high score on a new game that he tried and spotted “KAI” on the list of high scorers right below his “YUG.” So this KAI used to be the top scorer? “Huh,” he said. Nah …

“What?” asked Anzu, who was looking over his shoulder.

“Have you seen Kaiba around school lately?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Yugi didn't want to get into any sort of lengthy discussion with Jounouchi about Kaiba after what had happened with the Blue-Eyes White Dragon card. He hadn't even wanted to tell him about it, but he couldn't very well hide that sort of thing from his friends—what he could remember of it. The whole incident was something he'd rather forget, anyway, but Jounouchi had a way of hanging onto that sort of thing like a bulldog. Kaiba had clearly been in the wrong, of course, but Yugi couldn't get past the feeling that he never should have taken the card to school in the first place. After all, he'd done it without getting Grandpa's permission. Wasn't it just that he wanted to show off, be a big shot?

So he couldn't help feeling that it was partly his fault, too, even if Kaiba was the one with bad intentions. But he knew that if he mentioned this feeling, Jounouchi would tell him to get over it because Kaiba was obviously the one at fault. Best friend or not, sometimes talking things over with Jounouchi didn't help.

And Kaiba … what was it about that card? There were plenty of powerful cards, and the guy could get practically any other card he wanted, after all. Why was that particular card so important to him? Sure, it was one of the most powerful cards available, but was that the only thing?

What's more, because his other self dueled Kaiba, Yugi didn't remember what happened. He barely saw Kaiba after that, and it seemed to him that Kaiba was avoiding him. He knew only that he got the card back through some sort of duel. He really wanted to ask Kaiba about it, but he could never get close enough to him to talk, let alone bring it up.

And now Kaiba was out of school? What was that all about? Was it what happened with the duel? If only he could remember! If only he knew what his other self had done! As grateful as Yugi was that his other self had so often saved him and his friends, he was capable of such terrible retribution. Yugi often worried he took it too far sometimes … or that one day he would.

This was what bothered him the most—having this other self that he couldn't predict or control—but he couldn't talk to any of his friends about that! He was afraid to reveal that he blacked out and had another version of himself come out! They'd think he was some sort of freak. He was deathly afraid that if they knew about that, he'd lose them and he'd be all alone again.

The only person he might be able to talk to about it was Kaiba, and he was missing … and not very approachable. If only things were different!

“Are you OK, Yugi?” asked Anzu.

“Yeah, I just—” He looked at Anzu and smiled. “I'm just hungry all of a sudden. You want to eat something?”

“I do!” exclaimed Jounouchi. “Let's get out of here and grab a burger!”

“Or, in your case, probably three,” said Anzu. “Come on, Honda.”

Seto stopped by school briefly to iron out a few details. That was, after all, all he seemed to be doing lately. But with his “illness,” his so-called father's death, his new-found responsibilities, and all the resulting absences that they entailed, arrangements had to be made. Therefore, he'd called and made an appointment with the principal to go over the particulars.

It felt strange, walking through the halls with a KaibaCorp lawyer by his side. He didn't want there to be any misunderstandings. For him, school was a mostly unnecessary formality. The rigorous tutoring that Gozaburo had put him through had more than fulfilled any educational requirements on his part (as far as he was concerned), but there was still the bureaucratic nonsense to be satisfied.

After a few terse words with the principal, he left his lawyer to negotiate some sort of participation or testing that would be acceptable to both parties. Sighing, he took his time strolling back in the direction of his limousine. Everyone was in class now. It would be time for math about now. Funny, he had math class with Yugi and that scruffy friend of his … They really had trouble with that subject.

Slipping down that corridor, he stepped to the window and peered through, just for a moment. Everyone was working out problems. Jounouchi poked Yugi in the ribs gently with his elbow, then pointed to the paper. That's right, he was totally lost. Yugi smiled and pointed to his own paper, then began whispering into Jounouchi's ear. As if that would help.

Seto moved on, feeling a growing annoyance. Yugi had the gall to do what he did … then to repeat it with Mokuba … and then go on with his life like nothing had happened? His own life was completely disrupted, but this kid just slides on by just like always, barely passing, blithely playing around with his friends? Meanwhile, Seto had to struggle and scheme for everything he'd accomplished. Sure, the difference in what they'd accomplished was immeasurable, but the point was unavoidable.

Yugi had beaten him. Yugi had beaten the brilliant Kaiba Seto. No, more than that, he'd beaten him, then gone on to humiliate him.

How the fuck had that worm managed to beat him? And how dare he—how dare he—treat him like he was so much lower? Like he was mud? Garbage? He thinks he can just skate away?

If it weren't for that, I could let it go, Kaiba thought, choking back something that tasted like bile. Thank god the limo was only steps away now. Isono looked up, only paling slightly when he noticed the expression on his master's face. Seto's mind filled with thoughts about revenge, and he couldn't wait to get back to his plans for it. If only he didn't have so many other things to do!

The next day, Yugi looked specifically for Kaiba in class, but he was still out. Walking between classes, Jounouchi prodded him, “So what'cha so worried about, Yug'?”

“Nothing …” Jounouchi definitely wouldn't relate to his concern for Kaiba.

“For Pete's Sake, Yugi, you've been fidgeting all morning! There's something going on with you for sure. Is your Grandpa sick or something?”

“Nah, nothing like that. It's just … Kaiba's still out.”

“What?! You can't be worried about that asshole! He wouldn't kick an aspirin across the street to you if you were dying! If he's not here, you ought to be happy.”

“Jounouchi, I know what he did was wrong, but we don't know why—”

“Sure we do! He wanted a great card! Do you know how much I'd love to have that card? But I wouldn't steal it!”

“Jounouchi,” Yugi sighed, “you weren't there. There was something about him that … I don't know. I just can't help wondering if it's that simple.”

“What do you mean, if it's that simple? It's a card. How complicated can it be? Look, the guy is rich, right? He had that case full of cards to prove it. Every time he comes through here, he looks down on us! He's got the money and the grades! He's got it made and treats everyone else like dirt. Whatever happened to him, I guarantee you, he deserved it. It probably wasn't bad enough.”

Yugi let it go. In any case, they were already entering math class. Ironic, really; it was a class that both he and Jounouchi were dismal at and Kaiba excelled in … of course. He was the top student, wasn't he? No doubt he'd still be the top student when he returned, even after this prolonged absence.

Later, as he was carrying his lunch to the table where his friends sat, a student he barely recognized as one of his classmates, stopped him. “I heard you talking about Kaiba,” he said.

“Uh, oh, hi, Katou,” he said. “Yes, we were wondering why he hasn't been in school lately. Or, at least, I was.” Maybe Jounouchi was celebrating the fact that he was missing.

“Hadn't you heard? His father died. He's had all kinds of family business to attend to and hasn't had time for school.”

“Really? But wouldn't—”

“He doesn't have a mother. Didn't you know?”

The two stared at each other briefly, disbelief in both their eyes, over different things. After, Yugi walked thoughtfully toward his friends.

“So, what did Katou have to say for himself?” asked Honda, waving a western-style sandwich.

“Nothing much really,” Yugi said. He really didn't want to bring up the subject of Kaiba. Not with Jounouchi around. “He had a question about the math homework.”

“Funny,” Honda said. “Didn't look like you were talking about math.”

“Why would he ask one of us?” asked Jounouchi, looking after him. “Wouldn't he ask one of the geniuses?”

“Well, maybe, but it was only about the assignment.”

“Huh. Oh, Yugi? You said you'd look at my cards today.”

“Oh, right. Let's take a look.”

Another long day of whipping KaibaCorp into shape.

Seto stumbled up to his room, half-consciously thanking the gods that he had a driver because he was far too exhausted to make it home in one piece. Unable to stand the idea of going to bed dirty, he forced himself to take a brief shower and brush his teeth before heading to bed. Still, he managed to note the time. 3:17 am. Lovely. He would have cursed the time, considering that he had an early meeting the next day—make that later this morning—but he was too busy collapsing into bed. Immediately he fell into a deep sleep.

Seto didn't know how much time had passed when a commanding voice sounded, rousing him out of a pleasant dream.

Seto stirred. “Hnn?” He hadn't quite caught what the voice had said. Then he cursed himself silently. Did he really want to know what it had said? He wanted to sleep, dammit!

“He has no name.”

What the fuck? Roused out of a perfectly wonderful dream about thrashing the competition for a stupid remark like this? He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut than ever and burrowed down into the covers.

“You must find out.”

Seto turned over, stubbornly ignoring the statement, trying to turn off all curiosity. What? Who? Who cares? I want to sleep! he insisted to himself.

“Is he the one?”

Is who the what?

Shit, he thought, and, finally giving in, growled, “So who the hell's asking?”

“You are.”

Ask a silly question …

Frustrated and now totally awake, Seto muttered, “Shut the fuck up!” But it was too late; he was already wide awake. Angry, he stood up and padded down to his workroom, barely restraining himself from stomping all the way. It wouldn't do to wake the entire household. Fuming, he decided that he'd almost rather have another one of those recurring nightmares about the Experience of Death. Those were bad enough, but this stupidity apparently came out of some obscure corner of his own brain.

And that troubled him. Yet another thing he had to fix.

Chapter Text

Seto sat in the president's office at KaibaCorp. He'd barely taken over and already there was so much to do.

Damn you, old man, for committing suicide! Seto thought viciously. You did it just to throw a monkey wrench into the works!

So much to do, and only so much could be delegated. He didn't have time to waste arranging and attending funerals or running around tying up the myriad details that the death of a billionaire entailed. (Especially with bodies that vanish and reappear like some damn magic trick. He didn't have a moment to spare to follow up on that mystery.)

Of course, many of his plans were things that he'd laid out far in advance, during the time he was slaving for the old man. If he'd really known what he'd had on his hands …

Gozaburo never knew that Seto was laying out the death and rebirth—the transformation—of KaibaCorp during stolen moments as he slaved for the company. Project Phoenix. It was everything he and Mokuba had always dreamed of doing.

And now he was implementing it. Some of it was already underway; some things would have to be postponed, much to his frustration—and it was that Yugi's fault!

He was already transforming KaibaCorp from a defense company to a gaming company. It was difficult and challenging, but he'd been planning this almost from the day he was adopted.

And it was satisfying—all the more satisfying considering the relationship that had developed between him and Gozaburo. He couldn't stand to think of Gozaburo as his father, considering how he'd been treated by that man, but it wasn't as though he had no idea what kind of man Gozaburo was going in.

He was very pleased with the way it had been going. It would have pleased him greatly to sell many of the assets for a fraction of what he actually did—or even destroy them—but he had to be responsible and treat it as soil turned over for the new crop; the new, improved KaibaCorp. His KaibaCorp.

Many of the facilities had been sold or were on the brink of being sold, but the crown jewel, Alcatraz, he'd reserved for himself, despite many lucrative offers. He had special plans for that facility. It had too many memories attached to it, and to Seto, it symbolized everything that he wanted to overcome and put behind him.

Patents had been sorted, some retained, some put on the block for sale; and he already had games programmed and in the pipeline. He estimated they'd be ready with two major games and five simple ones within the month.

He'd always intended to begin the construction of amusement parks immediately, and he'd already broken ground on the first one. He refused to cancel the groundbreaking ceremony and had scheduled the funeral around it. If Gozaburo was going to be so inconsiderate as to commit suicide, he'd just have to deal with the inconvenience. But, even though he and Mokuba had dreamed of KaibaLand amusement parks all their lives—hell, before they could even be thought of as “KaibaLand“—additional parks would have to wait.

Because Yugi and that card had added so many new items to the list of things that he had to accomplish. Seto frowned, thinking about it. There was the card itself, and then, any number of changes to the KaibaLand indoor park currently under construction, and the new game system …

So many plans and details, all of which he had to handle personally. For example, his 10 a.m. appointment. He wouldn't normally meet with a PI, but this was a special circumstance. His agency had come well-recommended and what services they couldn't provide, they could often provide connections to. They were extremely confidential and reliable, for the right price.

And they were extremely glad to have Kaiba as a client. His promise of providing a positive recommendation to more potential diamond-level customers—if satisfied—ensured that he received first-rate service.

A soft tone sounded. Kaiba pressed his intercom button. “Keiko? Has my 10 a.m. arrived?”

“No, sir. It's Vice President Kaiba Mokuba. Shall I send him in?”

Seto sighed. “All right, but remind him that my schedule is packed and I can only spare him a few minutes.”

“Very good.”

Mokuba hurried in. “All right, Mokuba,” Seto said, “what is so important that it can't wait? We'll see each other at dinner tonight.”

“It's those executives.”

“The Big Five? What about them?”

“They're not happy. Did you see the way they were looking at us at the funeral?”

“So? I don't care. It's not like they can do anything about it.”

“But, Nii-sama, with everything that's going on—I mean, you're working so hard on all these projects right now—do you have time—”

“Honestly, Mokuba, do you think that a few projects could distract me so much that these people could marshal a serious threat?”

“But Nii-sama … couldn't we just … isn't there a way of handling the Big Five that—”

“Are you suggesting that we try to pacify them in some way? Of course they're not happy, and they're not going to be easily placated. We're changing the company.” He chuckled bitterly. “They thought that they could use me to get rid of that snake Gozaburo, and then they could proceed to walk all over me and run the company the way they wanted to. Heh. Little did they know I'm the king snake!”

King snake? Mokuba's heart sank. Did he really think he was like that?

“Look, Mokuba,” Seto continued, seeing the expression on his brother's face, “you need to toughen up if you want to be a businessman. You think these guys are going to be loyal if we go easy on them? KaibaCorp isn't going to stay a defense corporation just because they want it that way. That's not what we want, right? Someone has to get their way, and it's going to be me. Finally.”

“Right,” Mokuba said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

The intercom sounded again. “Yes, Keiko?”

“Your 10 a.m. is here.” Seto glanced at his desk clock. Ten a.m. exactly. Perfectly punctual.

“Mokuba will be out in a minute, and then you can send him in.” Seto turned off the switch and said, “But you're right. These guys bear watching. If you see anything suspicious, let me know right away. For now, you have things you have to do … including schoolwork, right?”

“Yes,” Mokuba admitted reluctantly. He moved toward the door, where he hovered uncertainly.

“Is there something else? My appointment is waiting.”

“Uh, only a question.”

“Then spit it out, so we can get on with our day.”

“Um, I was just wondering … I know we're busy getting KaibaCorp into shape and all, but our plans … I know we were originally planning on starting in on amusement parks as soon as possible, but now …”

“With all that's happening, we're going have to postpone those plans a little, Mokuba.”

“Gozaburo's dead, Nii-sama! Why can't we—”

“Mokuba, we can't just start building large amusement parks. I—we have to turn KaibaCorp into a successful gaming company before we can do anything like that. Do you know how seldom this sort of thing has been done? And almost never with a company the size of KaibaCorp. Certainly never with a successful company this size. Many analysts think I'm completely insane. I have to prove to them that I'm not—and fast. Luckily, this company has resources that I can use—the advanced hardware department, the software development department, the war games and game theory departments, satellite communications, internet infrastructure—to form the basis of the company that we want. We're fortunate that I have so many games in storage here that we can put into production immediately.”

“If Gozaburo had found them—”

“He'd have destroyed them and made me work even harder for his war machine. I know.” Seto laughed humorlessly. “Well, the laugh's on him, isn't it?”

Mokuba gave his brother a look that said that he wondered about that, but he didn't say anything.

“The thing is, Mokuba, I have to work even harder whipping all this into shape and getting everyone marching along to the new orders. A lot of people aren't too happy about this. As you were just telling me.” He put on a miniscule, smug smile. “But don't worry. They're going to want to keep their fat paychecks, Mokuba. They'll relent and adapt.”

“Nii-sama, how can you be so sure? After all, you weren't happy to live with Gozaburo's rules and—”

“That man declared war between us. He turned it into a game, winner take all. I won. It's that simple. He threatened to throw the both of us back out on the streets! I'm not forcing that sort of situation onto these people. They have options, choices. Meanwhile, I have to work harder than ever.” Seto looked grim. “If there's one thing I learned from that man, it's that kindness isn't a viable business trait. Business is ruthless and you have to be ruthless if you want to be successful in business.”

Ruthless, Mokuba thought sadly. Did Seto really believe that was essential? He tried to think of some way to refute it, but he couldn't think of any words.

“Look, I've wasted too much time,” Seto said. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No,” Mokuba sighed. He turned and walked out, dissatisfied.

Mokuba signaled the receptionist to send Seto's appointment in and started down the hall. He hadn't liked the look in Seto's eyes. It wasn't like his brother at all. It was more like … well, like Gozaburo. It was scary, like he was losing his brother. And … looking at Seto gave Mokuba the horrible feeling that somehow …

Somehow …

Even though Gozaburo had lost …

He'd won.

As Mokuba left Seto's office, a husky man entered. “Tamahara,” Seto greeted.

“Kaiba-sama,” the man responded, taking a seat across the desk immediately. “I have news. We've located the man that you're looking for.”

“And the police?”

“Have not been informed. Nor have they made any further progress in their investigations.”

“Have you made any move?”

“Actually, yes. We took the liberty of sending a squad in to secure him. He's not the sort of man with whom one can easily negotiate.”

“Oh, I'm certain I can find something that will motivate him to work with me,” Seto said.

“Sir? Are you sure that's—?”

“Just leave the address and any other particulars with my personal secretary. It would be best to leave them in a sealed envelope. I'll call you if I have any questions.”

“Very good.”

“So you didn't encounter any problems, er, persuading him to accompany you?”

“No.”

“You did say it took a squad.”

“The neighborhood he lives in often attracts police raids, so our activity was assumed to be a police action.”

“Excellent. Continue your vigilance.”

“Ah, yes. Kaiba-sama, about the other matter? I've brought the information you requested.” He placed a large manila envelope on the desk.

“The dossiers?”

“Yes sir. All the pertinent information: known background, skills, kills, and so on, are included.”

“Contact information?”

“You can make arrangements through our office if you like. That's the most efficient and least traceable way.”

Seto's lip twitched as he suppressed a smirk. He was positive that he could cover his tracks at least as well as they could, but he was busy enough that he'd let them earn their money. “I'll hold you to that promise,” he said. “I'll look these over and inform you of my decision.”

“Very good, sir. Is there anything else we can do for you, sir?”

“I'll call you if anything comes up,” Seto said. He didn't anticipate any problems.

He made time to meet with the man in question, a serial killer. Those people didn't know exactly what he had in mind for him, but it wasn't their job to know. In fact, it was their job to refrain from asking questions.

They were very good at it—a little to Seto's surprise. Not a single question why a young man, a boy who might in other circumstances be the type that this killer might select as a potential victim, the wealthy young president of a large multinational corporation, would have any interest in tracking down this serial killer and having a private conversation with him. On the other hand, Seto was pretty sure that the Chopman liked his prey a little smaller and more helpless than Seto was.

Seto paused in front of the door of the motel room that he'd been directed to. Despite the fact that he knew what he'd planned to say, this still took a little mental preparation. He knocked on the door.

There was a pause as the Chopman's babysitter looked through the peephole, then the door opened. “Kaiba-sama.”

“Give me a few minutes alone with this gentleman. I'll call you if I need you.”

“If you insist, sir, but I'd feel better if you allowed—”

“It's not necessary.” Seto took a seat and waited as the man left.

The Chopman, as he was called, sat on the bed, a rough-hewn hulk of a man, glaring at his visitor from behind a crudely-stitched mask. He wasn't going to do much more than that because he was manacled securely, wrist and ankle, to the bed. Seto observed him sardonically. This man was even less intelligent than he'd anticipated. “Let me cut to the chase,” he said. “I can turn you in to the authorities, or you can work for me and I'll send you all the young kids you care to chop to bits—and you'll be protected from prosecution.”

“Worg fo' you?”

“You have to live on site, of course. I couldn't trust you to run around free. Plus you have to obey my instructions exactly. But it's the only way you can indulge your … hobby. If you object or disobey me, your contract will be ended and, well … let's just say that's not the only thing that will be ended.” Seto punctuated his sentence with an offhand shrug. The creature was dense, but he seemed to catch Seto's meaning nevertheless.

Chopman seemed to consider this for a while, then simply said, “'K.”

“I take it that you agree then?”

The monster nodded. Seto didn't waste any further time, but left the room. He didn't enjoy the creature's company, after all. “I want you to deliver this man to my security team,” Seto said to the guard at the door. “I'll have details arranged within the next 24 hours.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, looking a little relieved. Soon the monster would be off his hands.

Seto glanced back at the motel grimly as his limousine pulled away. He'd promised that killer fresh meat, but …

Yugi, is that moron really better than you?

He was stupid as dirt, sure, Seto thought, but he was as strong as an ox and ran on pure instinct, which had allowed him to escape Domino police for months.

If he can't outwit him, he's not who I think he is.

The thought seemed to come into Seto's head out of nowhere. Who I think he is? What's that supposed to mean? Seto thought. He shook his head; that didn't sound strange. As good as I think he is, he corrected, nevertheless.

Seto couldn't help thinking about how Yugi changed when he dueled, but he quickly quashed the thought before it fully formed in his mind. He refused to imagine stupid things. This train of thought wasn't going anywhere … not anywhere good, anyway.

“Seto-sama? If you would just take time to look over my proposal and reconsi—” The man was rushing to keep up with the young man as he strode purposefully along the roadways of Alcatraz, looking over the empty buildings.

“Make that Kaiba-sama, Ota, and I've already wasted enough time listening to your objections. If you don't like the direction in which I'm taking KaibaCorp, you're more than welcome to tender your resignation. I've given you your instructions. I came here specifically to see them carried out personally. Have you or have you not made preparations?”

Ota sighed. “I have.”

“Well, then, let's get on with it. You're being well paid for overseeing this when I could have simply outsourced it to any reputable demolition company. However, I respect your knowledge of munitions and of this facility. You should be pleased that I trust you to take care of this task.”

“Yes sir.”

“Any chance of injury to random gawkers?”

“No sir, the last of the employees were relocated or laid off two weeks ago. In addition, the assets that you wanted have already been shipped to the locations you specified. However—”

“I don't want to hear any more about the value of what's left!” Seto put up an impatient hand. He didn't want to sell the stuff and he certainly didn't want to use it. He clamped his lips into a hard thin line, barring the words that wanted to issue from them. I can afford it, dammit!

“Of course not sir,” Ota said, but an ill-concealed tone in his voice said, You should, you overgrown brat!

Seto ignored it. “Hn. There should be no need to tour each building, then? Your assistants have ensured that there are no stragglers?”

“They have. Everybody has been evacuated to the ship.”

“Good. Then we can go ahead as scheduled.” Seto climbed back into the pilot's seat of his helicopter and indicated the passenger seat.

Ota climbed in reluctantly. They flew to the ship in silence. Seto had planned this for what seemed like forever, and for so long it had seemed just a fantasy.

In a few minutes, Seto stood on the deck of the KaibaCorp yacht with Ota, Mokuba, and the last few KaibaCorp employees and contractors who had finished putting things to bed on Alcatraz. The demolitions chief brought the detonator over as the final seconds counted down and Seto himself pushed the button.

They all watched the magnificent explosions. Seto found the sight immensely satisfying. He had them use more than the required amount of ordnance—and showier ones—on purpose just so that the display would be particularly entertaining.

As the fire began to die back, he turned to Ota, who looked a little paler than usual. “And the second part of my instructions?”

“A-about the, uh, duel tower?”

“Yes, the duel tower, what else?” Seto said impatiently. “Are you ready to begin construction?”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama. I have the blueprints. Some of the materials were salvaged from the buildings and the remainder should arrive next week. The construction team has been contracted and construction will begin the week thereafter.”

“Very good. Keep me apprised of your progress.”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama.” Seto began to turn away, but Ota hastily asked, “Excuse me, Kaiba-sama, but … uh, you haven't left instructions regarding the removal of the debris from the demolition.”

The corner of Seto's lips jerked upward in a sort of sneer, and he said, “I want them left as is. Push them aside as necessary, but otherwise, leave them as they are. The island is uninhabited now, so there is no danger to residents.”

“But … sir …” Ota began, trying to form a suitable argument of protest in his mind.

Seto waved his hand, turning away. “Don't bother trying to dissuade me on this,” he said. “I've already decided that this is the perfect way to symbolize the transition of power from Gozaburo to me.”

Ota watched in relief as Seto took the helicopter back to Domino. He didn't want Seto to catch the despair in his eyes as he looked at the ruins of his life's work. Not that Seto cared.

Meanwhile, Seto concentrated on his destination, wishing that piloting a helicopter took more attention. He didn't understand why he didn't feel happier.

That duel tower …

He was going to find a true opponent, one worthy of him, take him to the top of that tower and defeat him there. He could envision the moment, as clearly as the ocean and the sky. That would symbolize his triumph over his past, over Gozaburo.

His past …

Seto's brow knitted as those words registered in his mind. Why was he even thinking about that? This was what this whole day was about in the first place: settling accounts so that he could focus on the future. He needed to put the past behind him. He couldn't afford to dwell upon it. All that it offered was bad memories, after all.

He shook his head as though that could shake the memories and any negative thoughts out along with them.

He had enough on his mind without dwelling on unnecessary things. For example, his new project. The new system. And then there was his first amusement center, an indoor amusement park. Originally it was just going to be KaibaCorp's first park, but that was before Seto's defeat. After that, he'd made a few adjustments to the design. As long as he was going to do this anyway, why not do it right? Why not kill two birds with one stone? His new park with his name on it might be the perfect venue to bring Yugi to. The kid loved games, right? Let him play. Let him earn the right to be defeated at Seto's own hands … once all the pieces were in place.

Only … he wouldn't last that long. … Right?

He thought about the tower in Domino, his new amusement center, but his eyes drifted back behind him, where Alcatraz was receding into the distance, where his duel tower would one day stand.

Seto hated losing. He wanted always to win, but he tired of easy competition. It was always more satisfying to beat a worthy opponent. Yugi? Worthy of facing on his duel tower, bare to the wind?

He doubted it, and yet there was that crushing emotion again.

Chapter Text

Mokuba checked the door of the workshop Seto had set up in the mansion. It was locked. Mokuba sighed. Naturally. He walked slowly up to his room and lay on his bed.

Seto hadn't told him exactly what he was working on, but Mokuba knew that was important. Only something really big kept him locked away in his private KaibaCorp lab and his home office for days. He'd stay up late into the night fiddling with whatever it was that he was working on.

Contrary to what most KaibaCorp employees believed, Seto didn't routinely drive himself relentlessly through sleepless nights for no reason. It was either Gozaburo torturing profit out of the boy or his own fascination with a certain project that drove him to it. It was his intense nature to seize onto things and find himself unable to release them.

Gozaburo's death, for example. The man had committed suicide before Seto's eyes screaming, “To lose is to die, Seto! Remember that!” Gozaburo's last words preyed on Seto's mind; Mokuba could tell. Sometimes he wondered whether his brother felt grief or guilt—or even anger—over his adoptive father's death and its circumstances, but he couldn't bring himself to ask him outright.

All he knew was that his brother had changed and there was no one … no one he could talk to about it. The person he had always confided in was Seto. Who could he run to now? All their servants had been hired by Gozaburo and the only one he really trusted was Isono. Somehow Isono had developed a huge admiration for his brilliant young charge and eventually had dedicated his life to serving him and his brother. But Isono was usually with Seto and Mokuba was reluctant to say anything to him.

Meanwhile, Seto had become angry around Mokuba and had started leaving him on his own more and more.

Mokuba couldn't figure out what had happened, what went wrong. Shouldn't everything have become better after Gozaburo died? After all, they had been working so hard to find a way to become independent of him as soon as possible. Of course, they hadn't counted on him committing suicide, but it wasn't Seto's fault. It was Gozaburo's own stupid inability to accept defeat, right? But did Seto feel guilt for it nevertheless?

Or was it still that other incident, the thing with that Yugi kid, that had him so wound up? Seto had said that he had completely recovered from it; there was nothing to worry about. Furthermore, he had it covered, he had something planned, so not to worry about it, but what if he hadn't recovered from whatever it was that Yugi had done to him after all?

Moreover, Seto had promised—promised—to involve Mokuba in whatever project he'd undertaken to exact vengeance on Yugi. But he hadn't bothered to clue him in at all yet. Surely Seto wasn't investing all this effort solely into revenge? It couldn't mean that much, could it? Yugi couldn't …

All he knew was that Seto had drawn away and he needed him back. Seto was the only one whose approval mattered to him.

He wondered if it was Gozaburo's final words or just what it was, but Seto's disapproval now haunted him like Gozaburo's ghost. Where once Seto would give him immense leeway and look on him with indulgence and love, he now seemed to view everything in the same black-and-white, win-or-lose manner that their adoptive father had. He ignored Mokuba when he didn't compete, and when he did, if he lost, he was viewed with contempt.

Mokuba had tried to become tougher, like Seto said he should be, but it was hard. He wasn't the winner that Seto was, and he quickly found out that if he wanted to win like Seto did, he had to stack the odds in his favor. In other words, he had to cheat.

And that made him feel even worse.

When had it started? Mokuba wondered, thinking back. Then he had a horrible thought. Hadn't it started about the time of the Capsule Monsters duel?

Mokuba sat up, eyes wide. But Seto couldn't know about that! He'd made Isono promise not to tell him. But Seto was so smart. What if he figured out somehow? He stuffed a balled fist into his mouth, biting his knuckles to ease his worry. He couldn't even think why he was this afraid of his brother knowing.

But what was he going to do? He didn't care about friends. Mostly, his friends only cared that he was Kaiba Mokuba. He could buy as many as he wanted. Seto didn't care about that. He'd loved him before his name was Kaiba. Mokuba wasn't sure what had happened, but he'd do anything—risk anything—to get Seto's love back.

Anything.

And his only hope of getting Seto's attention while he was absorbed in this new project might be to get involved in it somehow.

But what could he possibly be working on that was so fascinating?

Mokuba decided he had to at least get an idea of what Seto was thinking, so he wandered down to the kitchen. He waited for Isono to take a tray to Seto's office and quietly took it from him. Isono looked at him questioningly, but Mokuba nodded that it was all right. He knocked softly on the door.

“Come in and put it on the end table, Isono,” came Seto's voice.

Mokuba was mildly surprised to find the door unlocked. He decided that Seto must have unlocked it when he called up for food. “It's me, Mokuba,” he said, entering.

“Oh. You.”

Don't sound so happy to see me, thought Mokuba glumly. “What're you working on, Nii-sama? You don't have to stop to tell me, do you? And you have to take a break to eat anyway, don't you?”

For his trouble Mokuba was stabbed by his brother's piercing gaze. Then the gaze turned back to whatever he was working on.

Taking Seto's lack of an answer as assent, Mokuba moved around by Seto's side and looked on the worktable before him. He really couldn't tell what it was going to be because it currently looked like the insides of a computer plus some other electronic parts he couldn't identify.

“Nii-sama?”

Dark blue eyes rimmed with red turned to him. “You think you'd understand?”

“I don't know, Nii-sama. I'd like to try.”

Seto sighed and sat down in front of the tray. “This is my prototype Solid Vision platform.”

“Solid Vision? What does it do?” Mokuba looked at it hard enough that it should have coughed up its secrets from the sheer force of his gaze.

Seto picked up chopsticks and began to rapidly consume the meal. Between bites, he said, “You remember Solid Vision, don't you? I wanted to use it for VR gaming, but Gozaburo co-opted it for defense purposes? I'm going to use it to bring Duel Monsters to life! There are many other potential applications, but that's what I'm interested in right now. As soon as the prototype is complete, I'm going to meet with Crawford.”

“Nii-sama, please don't eat so fast. … Bring Duel Monsters to life? You mean … like they're in the room with you?”

“Try to keep up, Mokuba.”

Mokuba wanted to hug his brother in celebration, but that weird wall was still standing between them. “Pegasus J Crawford will jump at this chance!” he said. “This will make Duel Monsters more popular than ever!”

Seto nodded in agreement, but there was something in his expression …

“What is it, Nii-sama?”

“Solid Vision is only the first phase of my plan,” he said. “There's something else I have to do.”

“Something else? What are you talking about?”

“KaibaLand,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Mokuba frowned, trying to figure it out. “That's our first amusement park,” he said. “It's a small one, but—”

“That's right, Mokuba, but that's not all it is. I've decided to make a few modifications to our original plan.”

Mokuba paused. He didn't like the sound of that. After so long they were finally taking the first small step toward their dream. It wasn't the large, outdoor park that they envisioned, of course, because KaibaCorp couldn't handle that kind of investment during its transitional period. And now Seto was talking about changes? Was this Yugi's fault, too? Carefully, he asked, “What kind of modifications?”

“Well, frankly, I've had to make some changes in the focus of the park.”

“Focus? What do you mean?” Mokuba didn't like Seto's tone. “Wait, this doesn't—”

“I'm planning on inviting a special guest to the opening,” Seto said.

“You mean that Yugi kid,” Mokuba said, trying not to sound upset.

“Yes. I told you I was handling things.”

“Don't leave me out of it!” Mokuba cried. He wanted to clap a hand over his mouth because he'd said it way too forcefully, and Seto's sharp glance confirmed it. “It—it's not that … I mean, you don't need me, but I really want to help. Can't I?” His hands wound together painfully.

Seto frowned. “I won't stop you if you really want to get involved,” he said slowly, “but before you make your decision, I want you to think it over carefully. This man is dangerous. If you lose to him, there will be a penalty, and I cannot predict what the penalty will be nor will I protect you from it. Do you understand?”

Mokuba looked at his brother's serious expression and remembered the horrible experience of claustrophobic darkness that had followed his loss at Capsule Monsters. The way Seto was looking at him … but he couldn't know about that, could he? Mokuba took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “No matter what, I still want to help.”

Seto sighed. “Then don't say I didn't warn you.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I'll give you one round to plan and I'll let you manage some of the details, then. For now, I've got a lot of work, so get out of here and plan what you want to do.”

“Thanks, Seto, I won't let you down!” Mokuba gave his brother a smile and trotted from the room. Seto, however, turned back to his worktable looking more dour than ever.

When Mokuba got to his room, he lay on his bed, thinking over how he could prevail over Yugi. I wonder, he thought, is that the main problem? Whatever it was that this Yugi did to him? Whatever, Mokuba had to help Seto get over it.

I'll make you proud, you'll see!

Early the next morning, Seto woke up, his room completely dark, save for the luminous LED numbers of his alarm clock: 3:52. He blinked at it, trying to pull himself together.

Putting his hands to his eyes to rub them, he realized that his face was wet.

This was unendurable!

He never cried. Never. This dream, whatever it was, was sick, wrong. It undercut who he was at the most basic level.

The problem was that he couldn't even remember it.

Most of it, anyway … except … there was that …

… the white dragon, only … it was real.

And then … somewhere, further on, there was … the nightmare. The Experience of Death.

He sat up in bed.

The wetness—he couldn't bring himself to even think “tears”—hadn't come on account of the nightmare, though. He was sure of that. It made no sense at all.

This was almost as bad as the nightmares about the Experience of Death. Or was it …

I didn't dream anything, he thought, adamant.

Leaning over his bent knees, he put his head in his hands.

Nothing made sense anymore.

And it was all Yugi's fault.

Well, no use even trying to sleep now.

He arose, his mind ranging to that which had obsessed him ever since his duel with Yugi.

Solid vision. The demo for Crawford. It was coming up quickly. If he didn't get that deal made, everything would fall apart. His plans for KaibaCorp, his revenge …

Everything.

The next day, a call.

He picked up the phone in his office, saying brusquely, “Keiko, didn't I leave instructions that I didn't want to be disturbed?”

“Yes, sir, but you also left instructions to notify you if Ops International called with results. An agent has arrived.”

“Hn! Send him in immediately. Very good, Keiko.”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama.”

A man almost as tall as Seto himself entered carrying a briefcase, which he placed on Seto's desk. “I have the merchandise you've been looking for, as well as a report detailing our operations and expenses. As expected, the expenses were prohibitive, but you did say expense was no object.”

“Show me,” Seto said.

The man produced a key and unlocked the case. The three cards were encased in three separate Lucite containers. Seto immediately removed the cards and examined them. “They're genuine,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Of course, sir. We wouldn't waste your time with counterfeits.”

With reluctance, Seto gently placed the cards on the wood surface of the desk, feeling almost afraid that they'd somehow move over the edge on their own as he reached for the report and read it over. “That much?” he remarked.

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but—”

Seto waved him off. “Never mind, stop by my aide's desk. I'll have Keiko cut you a check directly.” Inwardly, he thought, It's a bargain. I'd have paid so much more than that. Scanning further, he said, “Did you really have to …” He glanced up, frowning.

“Oh, yes,” the agent confirmed. They had actually killed someone to get a card? That seemed extreme, and yet would he have stopped short of that? Plus, he had said to do what was necessary.

Seto ushered the agent out as quickly as he could. He could hardly believe it. He'd filled out his deck with three Blue-Eyes White Dragon cards, the legal limit. Gingerly, he picked up the cards. It had to be his imagination; they almost seemed to thrum in his hands with a life of their own.

Trembling, he took out his deck and, as carefully as he could, shuffled the cards in. He spread the cards out over the desk face-down. He shook his head. There was no way, he thought. Logically, there was no way he could pick them out. Still …

Slowly, Seto moved his hand over the cards, palm down. He frowned. Did the different cards actually feel different? Shit, that stupid Yugi couldn't actually be right, that cards have hearts, could he? He frowned. Suddenly, his hand stopped over a card. It was an unmistakable sensation. How could it be unmistakable? The card was new, but he knew exactly what it was. Instantly, he flipped the card over.

Blue-Eyes.

That sensation.

Without thinking, he reached out to find it again and flipped over two more cards in sequence:

Blue-Eyes, Blue-Eyes.

Nonsense!

Hurriedly, he gathered the cards together and put his deck away, banishing those foolish thoughts. He would work out strategies later. For now, he had to perfect his Solid Vision prototype. His trip to America was just days away.

Pegasus J. Crawford was hardly Seto's favorite man to deal with, but if you wanted to partner with Industrial Illusions, you had to deal with Pegasus. Seto disliked a great deal about the man, starting with the way he patronized him, insisting on calling him Kaiba-boy and treating him like a precocious five-year-old. The man wasn't that much older than he was!

And then there was his long, platinum hair and the way he carefully concealed one eye under it. Seto was almost certain there was something extraordinarily wrong with that eye, but he could never quite make it out. When he almost caught sight of it, even when Pegasus was looking the other way and Seto was quite surreptitious, Pegasus would subtly shift his position so that it would slip quite out of view. It was slightly unnerving—although Seto would never admit it. Seto was positive Crawford used it as a strategy to gain an edge in business negotiations.

But doing business with him was unavoidable.

He told himself it was the business opportunity; the money. But deep down, he knew that wasn't it at all. He absolutely had to bring Duel Monsters to life.

“Hello, Kaiba-boy!” Pegasus cheerfully welcomed him in his creepy, insincere voice. “It's been too long. What have you to show me? You were so mysterious and teasing when we made arrangements.”

“I'll get right to the demonstration then. You're aware of KaibaCorp's Solid Vision technology, are you not?”

“Extremely realistic 3D technology for battlefield simulations, is it not?”

“Not just for military use, Crawford. I'm currently licensing it for general applications. Specifically, I decided that it was a natural to apply to Duel Monsters.” Kaiba proceeded to set up his hardware on the tabletop of the conference room as he spoke. “This way, players can see their monsters in action as they play. All the game action can be brought to life before the players' eyes. I've done some demo programming already.”

Seto proceeded to show how the play of a card summoned a monster to the field. He then summoned an opposing monster and demonstrated the resulting battle.

“There isn't enough data for a full game yet, but creating a database for the entire range of Duel Monsters is simply a matter of data entry.”

“Can you play cards that are entirely new?”

“That's the next step. I'm working on an algorithm that can scan the card, interpret the rules, and add the card into the database on the fly.”

“That's unbelievable, Kaiba-boy!”

“KaibaCorp already has a world-wide data infrastructure set up, so connecting players to a central database won't pose any major issues. We can easily manage card play, adjusting the rules as desired for casual play and any tournament variations. For example, banned cards can be prohibited, and so on.”

“They look real enough to touch,” Pegasus observed, gesturing toward the platform with its projected monsters. “May I?”

“Please do. It's harmless.”

Pegasus reached into the glass enclosure and gingerly dipped a finger into the projected Hitotsu-Me Giant. He jerked the finger back, then probed it again, feeling along the surface of the projection. “It's … is there a resistance there?”

Seto offered a small, smug smile. “That's why it's called Solid Vision, Crawford. It's not just because you can't see through them. I haven't quite perfected it yet, but eventually I expect the figures to be as solid as you and I.”

“I don't need to see another thing. I want you to develop this right away! This is an extremely important advancement. I'll have my lawyers draw up the papers.”

Seto was amazed by the quickness with which Pegasus made the decision. Did he really require no in-depth review and discussion? “Excellent,” he said, disguising his surprise. “You don't want to discuss the terms of the partnership personally?”

“That's so boring!” Pegasus yawned.

“Very good, then,” Seto said. “Our lawyers will work together on the agreement, Crawford.”

“Of course, Kaiba-boy! Bring them in, by all means! We want to do this deal right! And, Kaiba-boy, do call me Pegasus, won't you?”

“Hn.”

Why did the man have to put an exclamation point at the end of every sentence? There was something in Pegasus' avidity that Seto found strangely creepy. It was as though this was more than a business decision for him. It was more than business for Seto, but why would it be for Pegasus?

Seto would have to think about that, but there would be time for that later.

He had other, more pressing matters on his mind right now.

Now that he was the head of KaibaCorp, Seto had decided that he would pilot his own plane to meetings. However, the long hours he'd been putting in lately prohibited flying, so he'd called in a pilot for the trip. On the way back to Domino, he gladly collapsed into a luxurious seat on the private KaibaCorp jet and promptly fell into a deep slumber.

… And found himself looking over what had become a familiar landscape. A limitless expanse of sand, stretching to the horizon.

Instinctively, Seto didn't like it. He knew he was dreaming and immediately tried to force himself to awaken. He closed his eyes against the glaring sunlight and focused on reality. Then he opened his eyes.

The scene was unchanged: A vast expanse of tan dunes stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction under a pitiless, empty blue sky. Empty, that is, except for the savage sun that beat down.

Seto's features hardened into grim lines as he surveyed his surroundings in minute detail, attempting to discern some variety along the horizon. Shading his brow with his hand, he at last detected some sort of marker or stone in the distance. Perhaps an oasis?

Probably not, there were no trees there. Seto shrugged. It was a dream anyway. Frustrated that he couldn't wake up, he began trudging through the sand toward the prominence. Moving forward, he frowned at his feet in consternation. This was a dream, yet his movement through the sand was annoyingly realistic. In fact, Seto wondered that he recalled the detail of walking through deep, dry sand so well, and tried to remember when he'd had such an experience. Could he have created all this from playing in the sandbox with Mokuba years ago?

Seto had far too long to consider such inconsequentialities because it seemed to take forever to reach the prominence. He reflected on that as he trudged on as well. Everything about this was way more realistic than an average dream. The oven-like heat of the air; the glaring sun; the sensation of the sand resisting his steps; even the pain in his lungs as they tried to process the hot, dry air. If he weren't sure he was dreaming, he'd create a makeshift shelter out of his trench coat and wait until night to move.

Finally, the prominence was in view. “What the fuck …?” Seto couldn't believe that he'd come up with such a ridiculous goal, even in a dream.

The thing he'd thought was some sort of marker or sign was actually the remains of some sort of monumental statue. It had once been an immense figure of a man, he determined, but the statue was now broken, leaving only one of its enormous legs stretching upward, suggesting the stride of a king who no longer existed.

The thing reminded him of “Ozymandias,” a poem he was forced to read in school, something about the futility of achievement or some such rot.

Is this supposed to symbolize me in some stupid, roundabout way?

Seto couldn't figure out how. He knew one thing, though. He'd seen this sort of thing before, of course, only not in bits and pieces, and in smaller versions. It was ancient Egyptian design, and the size would suggest only a man of the importance of a pharaoh, Seto guessed, although he was hardly an expert in such things—in fact, historical subjects were one of the few areas in which he made sure that he was not an expert.

Seto paused to wake up. When he still didn't, he decided he'd better examine the statue closely. Perhaps it resembled someone, or it hid a treasure or message or something. The entire situation was making him more and more angry. Why would his mind come up with Egyptian symbolism, of all things?

He moved around to the front of the statue and dug down a little into the sand, clearing it in front of the base. Yes, there was an inscription, in Egyptian hieroglyphics, of course. Seto wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand as he pushed sand away from a section of the inscription with the other. Suddenly, he stopped. A section of the inscription had been carefully chipped away—part of a cartouche. Seto knew enough to know that it had represented a name … only …

He felt as though he could read the inscription. Ridiculous as that was, Seto reminded himself that he was dreaming and knelt on one knee, brushing more of the sand away so that he could get a better look.

Erected in honor of … savior of the Egyptian people, conqueror, who defeated the terrible Zorc …

Zorc …?

And wait, that wasn't quite right. The word wasn't “defeated,” it was more like … Seto paused, thinking hard. More like, “sealed away“? Did that make sense? Did it matter?

What did any of this have to do with him? Seto looked back up at the disembodied leg, scowling. This statue definitely was not meant to represent his self in any way.

Standing up, Seto continued to scowl, concentrating. If this man was so revered, why was his name obliterated? Wasn't that only done for those who were hated … or, he reasoned, glancing back toward the statue, for political or personal reasons. Hatshepsut wasn't so much reviled—at least not by anyone other than her successor. Perhaps this man's successor hated him?

Still, Seto thought, it doesn't make sense that the successor of a man so successful and admired would dare do such a thing—no matter how much he despised him.

In any case, why would I dream up such a thing?! This makes no sense!

As Seto stood staring up at the enormous leg in consternation, a sudden sandstorm blew up, and the whole world went black.

Chapter Text

For a few days, Oshita had been tracking down rumors of a new project. As VP of Business Strategy, shouldn't he be aware of all new projects, no matter how secret? It had taken a little digging, but he'd finally located the lab and identified the personnel involved.

That morning, he walked right down to the lab in question and entered. In truth, he pushed his way in over the objections of the chief engineer, Nakaoki. As he looked around Nakaoki continued his inane nattering. “Mr Oshita, please. Kaiba-sama has classified this top secret—”

“We're not a defense company anymore, Nakaoki.”

“That doesn't prevent Kaiba-sama from keeping certain projects confidential. Industrial espionage is a serious threat.”

“I of all people should understand that, of course. But any such confidentiality naturally wouldn't extend to me. I'm VP of Business Strategy, after all.”

“The confidentiality of this project extends to everyone who isn't specifically named as a participant, and I'm sorry to inform you that you're not on the list,” Nakaoki sputtered rapidly, scuttling after Oshita.

Oshita stepped forward toward two interesting structures that looked vaguely like futuristic coffins, cushioned on the inside, with a window looking into the interior. He bent down and, placing a hand on the smooth plastic exterior, peered inside.

“D-don't touch the VR p—” Nakaoki began, then slapped both hands over his mouth. When he removed them, it was to sternly state, “I must insist that you leave now.”

“Oh, but I'm just getting interested. VR, you say? As in virtual reality?” He looked around. Cards. Duel Monsters decks? That meant … he had made even further progress with Solid Vision that anyone had dreamed? Had this happened even before Gozaburo had died, or had the kid managed to cram all this into the brief span of time since? The organizational aspect alone was mind-boggling. He turned to Nakaoki excitedly. “I demand a demonstration!”

“No sir, it's impossible. Please speak with Kaiba-sama about it and I'll be happy to accommodate—”

Nakaoki was blathering on, but Oshita had already turned and was walking out of the room and pulling his cell from his pocket. He spoke for a few minutes, and soon the meeting was arranged.

After work, they met at a bar.

“And you say that it's even more impressive than Solid Vision?” Daimon asked.

“I was finally able to finagle a demo from his assistant in the late afternoon,” stated Oshita. “I can confirm it easily. I expect the kid's next-gen duel system will be light years better too. And it probably won't take him that long, either.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that when we pegged him as a genius, we might have underestimated him.”

Daimon rubbed his head. “Well … if he's consumed by all this, look at it this way. He's probably way too busy to worry about what we're doing.” He smiled. “So. We can move forward with less worry. He has his confidential projects? We have ours. Don't say a word about this to Kaiba. Forget that; don't tell anyone.”

Isono didn't like taking the initiative to speak with his employer, but at times it had to be done. Today, unfortunately, presented a perfect opportunity: Seto was inspecting the new KaibaLand. His duty was to stand to the side and ensure his master's safety as well as provide any assistance that was necessary.

The two walked through the building with the architect. “And when will the building be complete?” asked Seto.

“The structure is complete now, and the rides should be completed in approximately three weeks.”

“This is with the changes I've specified?”

“Um, Kaiba-sama? I have some concerns …”

The architect pulled Seto aside. Isono watched as the two engaged in an animated conversation. He didn't have to listen to know what it was about: the danger aspect of some of the changes. Seto was assuring the man that the general public would not be exposed to the danger and that his firm would not be liable for any damages. The man looked relieved if not fully satisfied.

“I trust everything will be finished to my specifications?” Seto said at last.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well then. Where is the head of security? We've scheduled a meeting with him next.”

“I'll go and see what's keeping him, sir.” The man ran off, looking relieved.

Seto walked over to a window along the hallway and examined it closely, frowning. Nothing seemed perfect enough at this stage.

“Seto-sama?”

“Yes, Isono?”

“I realize that I'm speaking out of turn, sir, but there's something that I feel I should mention to you.”

Seto's eyes narrowed. “Go ahead,” he said in a warning tone.

In a measured voice, Isono went on. “I know that Mokuba insists on participating actively in this Death-T project, however …”

“Yes, Isono?”

“Are you certain that's a good idea?”

“Hn. I'm certain that it's not a good idea,” Seto said calmly. “But you said it exactly. Mokuba insisted on involving himself in this. And as such, he's taken it out of my hands. I warned him against getting involved, and he ignored my advice. Now he must face the consequences.”

“Seto-sama … he's just …”

“A kid?” Seto closed his eyes, looking pained.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Isono said, “but isn't it true?”

“It is,” Seto admitted, his expression stern, “but he's seeking out the responsibilities of an adult: a vice president of KaibaCorp; and challenging Yugi.” Seto looked Isono directly in the eye as he finished.

“Sir, isn't Yugi a high school student himself?” But Isono's tone suggested that he was unsure.

Isono didn't like the brief expression he caught on Seto's face before he spoke again. There was bitterness in it, but something else he couldn't quite identify. “Yugi beat me, Isono,” Seto replied, as if that explained everything.

Isono felt a shiver race up his spine. He knew better than to press this further. “Of course, sir. Please forgive me for bringing it up,” he said, bowing and standing aside.

“It's all right, Isono. But I assure you, there's nothing you can do. You're welcome to try to dissuade him, but he's made his decision.”

Isono stood by, watching the area as per his duty, but he couldn't help but steal an occasional glance toward his employer as he stood near the window. That expression he'd worn just a moment ago; it was so unlike Seto-sama that it was almost as though he was looking at a different person entirely.

Seto watched Isono walk to a respectful distance and resume his watchful stance. Seto turned and looked out the window. The view from this height was actually quite spectacular, but at this moment he couldn't properly appreciate it.

Just a kid, he'd said.

Doesn't he think I know that?! I was just a kid, wasn't I?

Without his volition, the memory of playing chess against Gozaburo in the rec room of the orphanage played through his mind: The sensation of the plastic pieces in his hand; the expression of mute outrage on Gozaburo's face when he lost …

He didn't want to remember that, or how he had to screw up the determination to get the two of them out of there. Together. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

His fingers clenched reflexively against his palm as he forced the memory out of his mind. I refuse to dwell in the past! he thought with a finality. He had enough to think about as it was. There were the countless details of his current projects: the present. And then there were his dreams for the future. There was far too much to accomplish to let himself become bogged down in the morass of the past.

Mokuba couldn't understand all he'd been through, all he'd done to accomplish this. How could he, when Seto had done it all to spare him the pain and heartache of dealing with the likes of heartless bureaucracies and sadists like Gozaburo? No matter how open Seto was with Mokuba, there was no way he could comprehend what it was like.

He'd done all this to get them out and make them independent—he, Kaiba Seto, with his own hands, by himself. All those adults who'd underestimated him now had to reckon with him—and a reckoning there would be. And nothing—nothing—would stand in his way. Not Kaiba Gozaburo, not the Big 5, not Yugi … not even his own baby brother.

Later that day, Seto met with executives to discuss the transition. He kept the meeting brief and to the point, sending everyone running after a mere ten minutes of intense reporting.

Oka was rushing to the elevator when he felt a pull at his sleeve. “Oshita?”

All he got was a significant look as Oshita pushed past and hurried down the hallway. With a slight shrug, he followed. Catching up, he asked, “So what is it? We have our marching orders.”

“That's the thing,” Oshita said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. “Wouldn't you think he'd be a little more, well, thorough at this juncture?”

“Ordinarily,” Oka said. “He's got a lot on his plate right now. Not just the transition, either.”

“Do you think he's all right? You spend more time with him than I do.”

“He's a genius. Of course he isn't. At least not completely.”

The two KaibaCorp executives stared at each other for a long moment before turning down another hallway. Oshita shrugged. “I wouldn't be surprised if he were listening in on us right now.”

“Don't be paranoid,” Oka laughed, nervously glancing about.

“It's just his new project. Have you heard about it?”

“KaibaLand? Everyone's heard about it, haven't they? He's turning the company into a gaming company. That's all part of the process … right?”

“Then you haven't heard the rumors?”

“What rumors? There's more rumors?”

Oshita sighed. “Let's have lunch. It doesn't do to stand around here where anyone could walk in.”

Minutes later, in a corner of an obscure restaurant that KaibaCorp employees didn't frequent, Oshita said, “Fine, spill. Fair exchange. I'll tell you what I've heard about KaibaLand if you say what you've heard about the little prince.”

“Fair enough. Well, the story is that when sonny boy confronted dear old dad with the news that he'd been frozen out, Senior threw himself out the window.”

“Old news.”

“Yeah, hard to suppress something like that. It made all the gossip rags. But, thing is, the kid hasn't been the same since.”

“You think he would be?”

“He hated his old man like poison. He pretends he doesn't care, but … there's been something … off … about him.”

“And you know this … how?”

Oka frowned. “Do you know how much I have to deal with the little prick?”

“Can you give me specifics?”

“Actually, not exactly. If you ignore the fact that he turned the company upside down, most of the business decisions seem right on. The deal with Industrial Illusions, for example, was pure genius. You should have seen Crawford. He couldn't wait to sign! If anything, he's a bigger freakshow than our CEO.”

“He certainly looks weirder.”

“There was something strange on the other side of that deal for sure. … Something about Crawford's expression …”

“What?”

“No idea.” Oka shrugged. “But the kid … it was all about the money he could get out of the deal to build these new things. KaibaLand …. That, and getting those monsters to show up. Weird, huh? But there was something more on Kaiba's side, too. Something that he wasn't talking about.”

“Something other than business, maybe?”

“Huh, maybe that was it.”

“That would make sense if the rumors are true.”

“Go on.”

Oshita leaned in, gripping his glass of Scotch. “The rumor is that KaibaLand is more than just an arcade. The rumor is that he's putting in special features especially for the purpose of torturing and killing one kid.”

“Oh, you're joking!”

“Not at all! The rumor is that one particular game can't even be re-purposed for the public afterward and will have to be completely rebuilt. He hired a top-flight security firm to assist him in hiring sharpshooters and a serial killer. They've been sequestered already in advance. All of this is imminent.”

Oka stared at him for a long moment, then began laughing. “Oh, you had me going there for a minute, but … no, the kid isn't that far gone, he can't be! Serial killer! Hilarious! Someone would talk to the board and have him removed. Oh, Oshita, thanks, this is the best laugh I've had in weeks. Thanks for proving to me that I've been worrying way too much!”

The following days flew by as far as Isono was concerned. The opening of the first KaibaLand was swiftly approaching, giving him a sensation of rapidly impending doom.

His young master seemed to look forward to the opening with an optimistic anticipation, while Mokuba seemed more grimly determined. So many times Isono wanted to again bring up the subject of Mokuba's involvement in Death-T with Seto-sama, but he knew it was hopeless. He didn't want to be fired for beating his head against a brick wall.

There was something else he could do, but the odds of success were low.

After finishing his duties for the day, he assigned himself one more task, and headed up to the upper floors of the Kaiba mansion.

Mokuba sat in his room, studying capsule monster scenarios.

“The last time I played him, he got my pieces lined up in a diagonal …” Mokuba mumbled, staring. He'd cheated, and yet he'd still lost. And then …

He sighed. He really didn't want to cheat this time, but he didn't see any way around it; there was no way he'd win without cheating, and Seto didn't even want to let him participate in the first place. If he lost …

Well, let's just say, even if Yugi didn't give him a penalty game, he wasn't looking forward to facing his brother afterward.

When he heard the knock on his door, Mokuba jumped, startled. “Who is it?”

“Pardon the intrusion, sir, it's Isono. May I come in?”

“Go ahead.” Mokuba pushed gaming things aside and turned his chair toward the door.

Isono entered gingerly. “I hesitate to bother you, Mokuba-sama, but …”

“Just say it,” Mokuba said with a sigh.

“This is … I don't want to … I mean, I fear that I might be overstepping … but—”

“Don't worry about standing on ceremony, Isono. I know you're loyal to my brother. Whatever it is that you're thinking; spit it out.”

“Sir, the opening is the day after tomorrow. Death-T. I wish you wouldn't—”

“You don't want me to play?” Mokuba smiled. “Thanks, Isono, but I can't back out. I have to.”

“But, sir, I fear that …” he paused, looking pained.

“You're afraid I'll lose again. I know.” Mokuba chuckled bitterly. “Me too.”

“But then, if you're really concerned that you might lose, sir, why would you risk—”

“I know. But I can't let it get to the end.” Mokuba sighed. “I know you can't understand it, but … it's that kid.” He paused. “No, it's his obsession with that kid.”

Isono looked a little embarrassed. “That—and this Death-T project, sir, I'm not sure I understand …”

“What it's all about?”

“Yes sir,” Isono said, looking a little relieved. “All this expense—and all arranged for—”

“All arranged for one person. I know.” Mokuba knitted his brows. “It's the Blue-Eyes White Dragon. And the fact that Yugi beat him. … But it's even more than that.” Scowling, he went on. “He's got three Blue-Eyes already; he can't use more than that; still …” Their eyes met with comprehension as to what Seto might be planning. “And Death-T. The thing is, when Yugi challenged him at school, no one was the wiser. It's like it never happened. Even if Yugi told anyone about it—that he beat Seto—it's just his word against Seto's. Who's going to believe anything Yugi says about it? Even if it's about pride, why would Seto insist on making this big public scene about it? No, he challenges him as part of a huge, public event? A nobody? It makes no sense at all, and he won't explain it to me … and I'm not sure he could if he tried. I don't understand it.”

Isono tried to think of something to say. “In a couple of days, this will be behind us,” he said reassuringly, “and you won't have to worry about this Yugi person anymore.”

“I wonder.” Mokuba picked up his own Duel Monsters deck, a collection not nearly so impressive as his brother's. Riffling through it thoughtfully, he said, “All this, for that Yugi guy. He barely knows him. He's in the same school, but it's not as though they're even in the same circle. And yet, when has Seto worked so hard to put something together for me?”

“Mokuba, hasn't he done everything for you? This,” he said, sweeping an arm to encompass the mansion, “subjugating himself to Gozaburo, putting everything he has into that company, isn't all of it to give you a better life? I thought it was so that you two wouldn't be separated; so that you would never have to worry or be out on the streets again.”

“Then why do I feel so …”

… abandoned? Mokuba couldn't make himself choke it out. He made himself put the deck down, and said, “You were hired on just after Gozaburo adopted us, right? Why are you so loyal to my brother, anyway? The others … I mean …” The others did what Gozaburo told them to do. For them, it was a job. Hobson didn't care who gave the orders or what he did as long as he got the paycheck.

“I don't know,” he said, hesitating. “It's just … It was obvious that what he did, well … Everything he did was to make sure you were taken care of. He did everything that Gozaburo-sama demanded of him so that—”

“So that I would be safe and happy. So that I didn't have to suffer like he did. He sacrificed everything for me. Even his kindness,” Mokuba sighed. “It's so hard to see now. He never smiles anymore. Not a real smile.”

“He still cares about you, even if you can't tell,” said Isono. “I know that you don't think so right now—”

“It's that Yugi! Ever since then, everything is different!” Mokuba fumed.

Isono's brow creased slightly. “This couldn't be because his attention is focused on Yugi just now, could it? I know that he's been neglecting you lately, but everything that he's done has been for you. After this, his attention will eventually return to you, you know—”

“Damn it, Isono, it's not just jealousy!” Mokuba yelled. But he knew that Isono had a point. He was jealous of Yugi, at least a little. After they beat Gozaburo, everything was supposed to be great; but it wasn't. It was like this.

“It's the loss,” Isono offered, chastened. “When he wins, things will go back to normal.”

“No, it's more than that. I know this is the first time he's really lost, but …” Mokuba paused, trying to put it into words. “Death-T. He lost a game. A game. Not a life-and-death struggle. But ever since then it's like—it's like he's been fighting with himself.” Mokuba's eyes widened in realization. “Yes, with himself! Before now, he never would have thought of making a game deadly. It's that Yugi who put that idea into his head. The stakes …” He shut up, thinking it over.

“You're right,” Isono replied thoughtfully. “This is totally uncharacteristic of him.”

“I know. A-and I'm really, really worried—” Mokuba admitted quietly, “no, I'm terrified—that if he plays Yugi again … if he loses … things will never be the same again. I'll never get my brother back. Never.” A tear rolled down his cheek and he stabbed at it, annoyed. “Do you think Seto will ever be like he was before this? Before Gozaburo got his claws into him?”

The two stared at each other, time spinning out between them, the question hanging over them like a blade.

“I'd like to hope so, sir,” Isono said, “but … but what can we do? He won't change his mind about this, and I don't dare attempt to coun—”

“Counsel him?” Mokuba finished, laughing ruefully. “Forget it. That's why I have to play. I can't let Seto play Yugi. I have this feeling …” Mokuba reached forward impulsively and squeezed Isono's hand, “I have this horrible feeling that if he plays Yugi again, everything is going to change—and not for the better. I don't know how or why, but I have to stop this thing from getting to the end.”

“What do you mean? Why is it so essential?”

“Because I think it might get worse.”

“Worse than it is now?” Isono looked horrified at the thought.

“If I can, I have to stop Death-T altogether.” Mokuba set his jaw.

“How on earth can you do that? Seto-sama is so set—”

An idea flashed suddenly into Mokuba's mind. A horrible, perfect idea. If he could just do something about Seto's obsession, there would be no need for Death-T at all. “Why didn't I think of this before?!” he cried, jumping to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“It's better if you don't know. Go help Seto … somehow,” Mokuba said, pushing past Isono and out the door. Hobson wasn't his favorite person, not by a long shot, and he'd normally avoid him like the plague. But now he was glad the little worm was still around. He'd wondered why Seto had kept him on after Gozaburo's death since they both hated him like poison, but maybe he had his uses after all.

Like poison. He chuckled.

Seto, meanwhile, was still in his office at KaibaCorp, working on the Solid Vision programming for the rides at KaibaLand. He had hired a small battalion of programmers, but he still ran the project and reviewed every line of code, writing a good deal of code himself while he corrected other sections.

And the Solid Vision, from the rides to the Duel Monsters platform, was just one piece of it. There was the building, the arcade, the mechanical and electronic parts of the rides and attractions, the personnel … and that was just what was involved with KaibaLand. There was still the transition and running of KaibaCorp itself.

It was too much, but it was a relief. It gave Seto an excuse to spend long days working. He didn't want to go to bed, and the endless piles of work forestalled it. When he was forced to rest, he collapsed into bed and was able to snatch a few hours of dreamless sleep before the inevitable nightmares roused him.

He vaguely recalled hearing that recurring nightmares were a sign of mental illness, but he discounted that. He knew what the source of his dreams was, and he planned to deal with it. Or, rather, him.

And that's why KaibaLand, especially, had to be as perfect as he could make it. He'd planned each level very carefully so that it was challenging but winnable. Mokuba had actually asked him why, if he really wanted to kill Yugi, he hadn't just hired a sniper to lie in wait atop a building along the route he walked each day.

But what fun would that be? And more to the point, what would it accomplish? It certainly wouldn't put an end to his nightmares. He was certain of it.

No. It was a tried and true principle of gaming: You have to earn the right to fight the boss character. And Seto was the boss, if anyone was. If Yugi wanted to challenge him again—and Seto would make damned sure of that—he would earn the right this time. If Yugi wasn't good enough to get through, he didn't deserve the chance to face Seto again. But if he was worthy, if he proved himself, they could have a real duel, and do it right this time.

But what did Seto mean by “right“? He wasn't even sure himself. But this time he had his Blue-Eyes White Dragons, ones that were truly his, and that wouldn't turn on him. Additionally, his Solid Vision system would bring them to life, along with all the other monsters … and the Experience of Death. Whatever Yugi had done, Seto could duplicate and control with technology. Everything that Yugi had thrown at him, he was going to throw right back.

And more.

In another part of Domino, Yugi looked at the stars through the skylight in his room.

What was he doing when he couldn't remember things, anyway?

He saved his friends' lives during these times and they trusted him, so he had to trust what happened, and his other self, right? And it all stemmed from the wish he made on his puzzle, right?

He was a little afraid to question it lest he lose his friends and his ability to protect them.

Still, the fact that he couldn't even bring himself to talk about it with them bothered him.

And there was one other thing he couldn't talk about with his best friend Jounouchi, wasn't there? Kaiba. Yugi sat on his bed, thinking. Jounouchi didn't like him because he was smart, rich, and arrogant. But he was a gamer—a really good one, apparently. Wasn't he the national champion in Duel Monsters? Yugi was naturally inclined to trust and respect a gamer instinctively. He couldn't be all bad, Yugi reasoned.

But Kaiba's continued absence from school worried him. What had his other self done to him? Could that be the reason?

It was the not knowing that was the worst. If only he could remember what he did when his alter ego took over. He couldn't hate his other self because he'd saved his friends so many times—Anzu, Jounouchi, even Honda. But still, he couldn't help feeling like he was somehow leaving this trail of destruction in his wake.

He'd feel a lot better if he could talk to someone about it. The weirdest thing, though, was that he felt like he could talk to Kaiba—that is, if Kaiba would let him. They had so much in common after all; in some ways, he felt like he had more in common with Kaiba than Jounouchi, only he couldn't figure out just why.

Just why was that?

The other thing that was bothering him was he had the oddest feeling that something was coming. Maybe it was Kaiba's absence, which felt like a single shoe having dropped, or maybe it was the perplexing problem of having another personality that took over, leaving him wondering what had happened. Or maybe there really was an impending doom approaching, inexorably, like counters along the track on a game board. He couldn't even imagine the event that would occur when the doom track filled, or how long that track was. He told himself he was imagining things, but still …

It was almost palpable.

Chapter Text

The day of Death-T finally arrived.

Seto had sent a driver to pick up Yugi the previous evening simply for convenience. He wanted nothing to go wrong today; certainly not a glitch such as being unable to locate the guest of honor!

Meanwhile, he had eaten early and gone immediately to bed, hoping to garner enough sleep during the night to be well-prepared for the day. Despite waking several times during the night, he still managed to sleep several hours, which he took as a victory. Still, the night brought what had become the accustomed lineup of strange dreams and nightmares. As usual, the grand finale was the Experience of Death, but this night brought a new one. It was oddly boring, only not. He stood staring into a large, plain mirror with the odd sensation that his reflection was staring back. The weirdest thing about it was that, at times, it almost felt as though he were the reflection, the image felt so intelligent and forceful. He awoke from that one feeling exhausted, as though he had been waging a battle of wills. He'd turned over, closing his eyes with a “Ridiculous!”

Upon arising, he was amused to discover that Mokuba had gone with the limousine he'd sent and proceeded to try to short-circuit his well-laid plans. As if Yugi would allow himself to be so easily cheated out of today's event! He couldn't help but shrug off Jounouchi's loud, barking complaints in that spirit, telling him, “Boys will be boys!”

He didn't want anything to ruin his good mood. Finally he would free himself of everything that was holding him back: the bad dreams, the memory of his defeat, and Yugi. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but more and more, he felt a need to erase Yugi from his world. It was almost as important as erasing Gozaburo from his past. Both of them were pushing him and he didn't like it. Worse, there was something about Yugi … as though he had a sort of gravitational pull like a black hole. If you passed near, you were pulled in whether you wanted to be or not. If you fell into a black hole, that was it. But what would happen with Yugi? Surely nothing. He was just another guy.

Still, Seto couldn't shake the feeling of no-going-back. Once you saw certain things, you couldn't unsee them.

Like the Experience of Death.

Seto didn't want to see any more. The Experience of Death was enough.

Fortunately, Death-T would take care of all that. All-in-all, Seto was very pleased with how everything had turned out. The rides were beautiful, the monsters hideously realistic. Test groups were horrified, but wanted to go back again and again. He'd built in lethal aspects to several rides that would be switched off and then removed after today. T-3 would have to be re-purposed, of course, but some things were unavoidable.

So when at last he was en route with Yugi, Jounouchi, and Mokuba in tow, he was in a remarkably upbeat mood.

Mokuba had a hard night, having failed in his bid to poison Yugi and his friend. Hobson had administered the antidote in time, but Mokuba still awoke with a hell of a headache.

Shit. Death-T would go forward after all.

Seto seemed calm and in-control, but Mokuba still worried. He knew he would be worried until it was all over. Hell, he'd be worried until his brother was himself again. This person who'd been walking around wearing Seto's face and running things at KaibaCorp really hadn't been acting much like his brother at all lately.

Getting into the limousine with his brother and those two interlopers, he thought, I want my brother back.

He stared resolutely out the back, thinking, I want to play games with Seto like we used to. Chess, or checkers. Or backgammon—or Monopoly or Risk. Even Duel Monsters, although that brings up unhappy thoughts right now. Hell, he'd even settle for Mystery Date at this point.

As miserable as Mokuba felt, Seto seemed thrilled to be getting on with the show at last. He greeted all his customers like a pro—wait, customers? More like fans. They cheered him on as though he were a rock star, and why not? He was a gamer just like them, and not only that, he was tall, attractive, and rich; everything they'd like to be.

Yugi and Jounouchi couldn't understand it. Kaiba was playing the amiable host. The kids who showed up at the KaibaLand opening seemed to be his adoring fans.

After a short welcoming speech, Kaiba gave them a tour. They went on rides and sampled the arcade.

Yugi leaned in close to Jounouchi and whispered, “What do you make of him?”

Jounouchi shrugged. I don't know.

“He's a lot different from before, don't you think?”

“I don't trust it,” said Jounouchi. “Sometimes he seems all right, you know, normal rich asshole, but mostly there's just something off about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess …” Yugi really wanted to think the best of him, though. After all, he'd given free admission to all of those kids who'd lined up for the first day. How many guys would've done that? He started to open his mouth to mention it to Jounouchi, but decided not to. Jounouchi would say that it was calculated for promotion, and he'd be right, it was great promotion for KaibaCorp, but still … “I don't like it that we're being forced to do this,” he admitted.

“Yeah, it gives me a really bad feeling.”

Yugi exchanged glances with Jounouchi. That was exactly what he wanted to say. “I know,” he said.

It was then that the two were ushered to the demonstration of KaibaCorp's new Solid Vision gaming system.

“Wait,” exclaimed Yugi. “That's—that's Grandpa! Grandpa!”

Seto strode into the control room in a state of annoyance. “I can't believe that his friends walked in there with him!” he exclaimed. Everything had gone according to plan: Seto had beaten Yugi's grandpa, ripped up his Blue-Eyes White Dragon card, and coerced Yugi into agreeing to undergo Death-T to release his grandpa from the Experience of Death. Still, Jounouchi and Honda (with an obnoxious baby attached to his back, yet) had insisted on going along.

“Why?” said Mokuba. “If it were you, I'd want to come with you.”

Seto scowled. “I wouldn't want your help. I could certainly handle something like that alone, and having you along would be a detriment.”

“You would see it that way, Nii-sama. You don't let anyone help you.”

“I don't need help, and neither does Yugi. Not if he's the person I think he is.”

“What do you mean?”

Seto ignored the question. “Doesn't he understand that he's just going to get his friends killed?”

Mokuba looked at his brother curiously. Was he actually upset that someone was going to die? But Death-T was the theme park of death. “Nii-sama,” he said, “let's make a wager on how far we think Yugi will go before he loses.”

Seto looked back, a little surprise in his eyes. “You first.”

“Stakes?”

Seto shrugged. “If you win, you can take your pick of the next project you want to be involved in. If I win,” he paused, considering, “you'll be more cooperative, all right?”

“I haven't been—”

“Please.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Good.”

“Then I think he'll get to T-4.”

“Capsule Monsters?” Mokuba didn't like the disdain he heard in Seto's voice. “Noted. I think he'll make it to T-5.”

Mokuba plopped into a chair next to his brother, scowling. T-5? Mokuba thought. If he expects Yugi to make it to the end, why all the time, effort and expense of building T-1 through T-3? T-5 isn't lethal. Why all the lethal traps? Mokuba glanced at his brother. He really didn't understand, but he didn't dare ask about that. His brother was so strange lately. Strange and hostile.

As the game progressed, Seto fumed over the additional support Yugi had brought along. They'd even picked up yet another friend on the way, which Seto had aides scrambling over because she was the hostess for the laser tag park.

“Yugi's friends are giving him an advantage that I hadn't anticipated,” Seto murmured as the Yugi-tachi made their way further into T-2. “I had expected to see the other Yugi by now.”

Other Yugi, Mokuba thought. I guess it is sort of like that, like he's another person. Mokuba had thought of it as more of a change that had come over Yugi, but “other Yugi” really summed it up. He looked at his brother, who seemed to be mulling the situation over, now that he'd gotten over his frustration over having Anzu defect. “If they get to T-4, it should be interesting,” he said, a curious gleam entering his too-blue eyes. “That game works against teams. I predict that they'll begin to turn on one another.”

And then you'll see the other Yugi, Mokuba thought, looking at his brother with a hint of trepidation. That wasn't the purpose of this whole thing, was it? To bring out that other, that rival again. He frowned. It wasn't even about Yugi, but this elusive other Yugi? He looked back at the monitors, as the little group entered T-3. He expects them to turn on each other? And then he'll get what he wants? A chill ran up Mokuba's spine.

But that wasn't what happened.

“They're going to get out of there,” Mokuba observed, looking over his brother's shoulder at the monitor. Anzu was visibly counting out the beats now, then pointing as the next block fell into place.

“Tell me something I don't already know,” Seto replied, studying the scene. He was thinking. Hard. Instead of turning on one another, the bond between the four seemed, if anything, stronger than ever. This was alien to his own experience. He certainly hadn't seen it in business. Even his own family had failed him. Their parents had died, and their relatives used and abandoned them. No one could be trusted; certainly not “friendship.” Friendships that he'd made when he'd lived with his parents disappeared when he and Mokuba were shuttled to relatives, and then again when they were put into an orphanage. They were transitory and situational. Inherently untrustworthy; an illusion. So what was happening here?

“You—” Mokuba was going to say, You didn't really want to squish them, did you? but thought better of it. The Seto he knew would never have really wanted to kill anyone, not even Gozaburo, and they both had good enough reason to wish the worst for him. Mokuba didn't know what to make of this new Seto.

“What? If you have something to say, say it.”

Mokuba hesitated. He wanted to ask that question. He wanted to ask, Aren't you going to turn the blocks off? The game was over and Honda was still trapped inside. “Never mind. I have things to do anyway.” He began to turn for the door.

“If you're talking about that ridiculous Capsule Monsters match, why don't you default? I won't make you suffer the consequences of a loss if you throw in the towel right now.”

Mokuba stopped right there. “Are you kidding me? The one thing you let me do for Death-T, and you want me to back out at the last second?”

“I'm trying to save you the embarrassment of a humiliating public defeat.”

Mokuba bit his lip, hard. “You don't think I can do it.”

Seto turned around and gave him a meaningful stare. “Remember our bet?” he asked. Right. “This man beat me at Duel Monsters, Mokuba. He's better than first-rate.”

Mokuba felt the flush in his cheeks. Didn't Seto have any confidence in him at all? He tried to keep his voice steady. “I'm going to beat him and then you'll see.”

“You can't beat him.” Seto turned his attention to the monitor bank and stated implacably, “If you recall, I opposed your participation in this project from the beginning. You've already lost to Yugi once.”

Mokuba's eyes widened as Seto turned on him again, continuing with vehemence, “Did you honestly think that I wouldn't find out about that? Didn't I warn you about that?” His voice lowered to a deadly calm. “What were you thinking Mokuba? Were you really planning on showing me up?”

“W-what? No!”

“Then what were you thinking? I'm curious.”

“For some time now, you've been … different. I thought … if I won …. I-I just wanted you to …” it sounded so lame, but it was true. His voice faded to a whisper. “I just want you to like me again, Seto.”

“Are you crazy?” Seto shouted. “There's no brotherly love in gaming! Only winners and losers. Pride, humiliation, and respect.”

The tears glimmering in Mokuba's eyes now stood on his lower lids, threatening to fall. “You'll see!” he yelled. “And then you'll have to admit I'm not a loser! You'll have to recognize me!” He stomped off.

Mokuba needed to prepare. He was too angry and needed to calm down. Seto wouldn't even admit that he had a chance of winning against Yugi! It wasn't fair! Even if Seto didn't think he could win, he could have at least shown a little support for his brother!

But no.

His creed was The Duel, and he wouldn't give an inch about it to anyone.

Even he wiggled on that once or twice himself, but each time, afterward, he was harder. Not only on himself, but on everyone else as well.

Mokuba ducked into a small, vacant office to pull himself together before heading up to the Capsule Monster venue. It wasn't a few seconds before there was a knock on the door. He opened it tentatively to reveal Isono, whom he let in. “I only have a minute,” he said.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” asked Isono. “I know that I can't dissuade the young master. When he gets his mind set on something, there's no changing it, but this … he's tested his so-called Experience of Death on some test subjects and the results weren't good. I don't want to see anything happen to you, sir, and I know that in the long run your brother would regret it. He'd feel awful about it.”

“Isono, thank you, but this is the only way that I can get Nii-sama's approval. He's so wrapped up in this. I don't really understand what it is about this Yugi, but …”

“It's that he lost to him.”

“No, it's more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

Mokuba shook his head. “I don't know. He's been strange ever since Gozaburo died and … he said all that about losing being death. It's true. Then Yugi beats him and does this Experience of Death thing on him. It really screwed him up. Yugi didn't do him any favors sending the message home to him like that. Losing isn't death. Not always. You have to pick yourself up and go on. I have to even when I don't want to.”

“You're saying he's stuck?”

Mokuba shrugged. “He can't get past what happened until he does this—whatever this is. Whatever it really is.”

“Perhaps you're right, Mokuba-sama, but please, sir. Be careful.”

Mokuba nodded, taking Isono's proffered hand. Then he left the room and headed for the Capsule Monsters venue.

Trapped back in T-3, Honda waited for the inevitable. It wouldn't be long now. After all, once you knew the secret, you could predict when the next block would fall.

Thump!

One … two … three … and …

Thump!

He guessed the next one would probably be it. He'd figured a while back that he might go young, but he'd never imagined that he would have gone in the middle of some sort of giant game box. He smiled. That's surprising. I guess I have Yugi to thank for that.

… three … and …

… and …?

Honda opened his eyes and looked around. Maybe Yugi or Jounouchi managed to stop the machine somehow! Amazing!

A face appeared at the top of the chamber. “Hey, kid! Get up here!”

“I can't! I'm caught!” Kid!? Honda thought, looking up. He's younger than me!

“Wait, I'm coming down!” the kid called. He jumped in and clambered easily over the blocks to Honda's position. “My brother's dueling your friend.”

“Wait, you're Mokuba? I'm Honda. Why're you helping me?”

The kid scowled and produced a pair of scissors. “Yeah, I'm Mokuba,” he admitted. As he cut the tail off of Honda's jacket to free him, he said, “If you think I'm betraying my brother by helping you, I'm not. He's not a murderer—”

“Could've fooled me!”

“—and I'm not going to let him become one because of you! My brother is a good guy—at least he was! Whatever that Yugi did to him …”

“Whatever he did, he must have deserved!”

Mokuba shot him a black look. “Do you want me to leave you here and turn the blocks back on?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then shut up about my brother and come on. You don't want to miss the end of the duel, do you? Anyway, I owe Yugi a favor.” Mokuba shuddered a little, remembering. He'd lost, and Seto hadn't waited for Yugi to give him a penalty game; he'd gone ahead with the one he'd planned for Yugi. Or had he planned it for him all along?

Mokuba didn't want to think about it, so he just walked faster, Honda hurrying behind him.

When Seto played the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, he felt confident that he had it won. But then Yugi played Swords of Revealing Light.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Seto told himself to remain calm. After all, it was just a matter of time.

But, somewhere, deep inside, Seto felt something start to bubble up inside of him.

An … excitement? Anticipation?

He didn't understand it. It felt alien, as though the emotion didn't belong to him. Then came a sort of whisper in the back of his mind that seemed to say, He's waiting on something.

Instinct? Or paranoia?

Yes, his inevitable defeat, thought Seto, trying to feel smug.

The alien voice laughed. He never loses. He's waiting on the right card.

But what card could Yugi possibly be waiting for?

A few plays later, Seto found out. Yugi was collecting cards, and spread out five; the only five that could win a game outright.

Seto's mind protested. Exodia?!

There was no way that could be in his deck!

Five cards; the only cards that could have conceivably won this game for Yugi, and he had them. And as he played them, Seto's mind felt like it split into two. Part of it was stunned, aghast that this should have happened; the other unsurprised, thinking only, This is the one! At long last, this is the one!

Even with all this, some small fraction of Seto's mind was able to appreciate the fact that his SV system was able to handle the combo and project an extremely realistic presentation of Exodia as he blew all three Blue-Eyes White Dragons out of existence.

Seto struggled, trying to pull himself together and speak, but he no longer seemed to be himself, but two selves, wrestling for control. He was flooded with visions, seemingly memories, that belonged to this interloper. Visions of an ancient history; visions that were somehow personal. He insisted that Seto step aside. This is why you were born, he insisted. To help release him.

Release him? Seto redoubled his efforts, but it seemed all in vain. It was becoming increasingly clear: The person he was fighting was himself.

Another self, from another time.

And Yugi was …

Yugi was walking toward him.

Yugi? No. The man had another name, which he could almost remember.

“Penalty Game!” the man who wasn't really Yugi announced.

“W-wait. I—” know you. I only need a moment. But it was too late. Yugi's forehead glowed and his hand came up.

Atem!

It was all there. In that one instant, Seto understood everything. Why he had to have the Blue-Eyes White Dragon cards, why the Experience of Death caused the recurring nightmares, why he had fixated on Yugi, why he had to test him, why he created Death-T, why he lost here, even why he expected it. Everything.

But even as it came together, Yugi shouted, “Mind Crush!” there was a flash, and it all came undone.

Everything within Seto, mind and heart, shattered. And everything that had been so clear vanished in an instant: The memories, the other, even himself.

It was a relief.

Chapter Text

Daimon and Otaki sat in a little bar, not too far from KaibaCorp. Daimon, who'd been on a business trip during the opening, wanted to hear every detail of what happened, and Otaki was all too happy to oblige.

“So, the little prince was pricked by the spindle and put to sleep, eh?” said Daimon.

“You sound positively heartbroken over it.”

“Hardly. But I'll bet there's someone who is. The little princess.”

“Mokuba?”

“Exactly. I think we have an opportunity here.”

“Do tell.”

“You really want me to do all the work here, don't you?”

“Things haven't been easy lately,” Otaki said. “I don't want to be surprised by a KaibaCorp security team.”

Daimon laughed. “Paranoid much? Why do you think I proposed meeting in this bar? It was precisely to take us away from KaibaCorp purview.”

“Perhaps … but it's also an ideal location to set up a trap. It's exactly what I'd do if I were Kaiba Seto.”

“The man's catatonic.”

“That's the rumor.”

Daimon snorted. “Rumor? Don't tell me—”

“I'd put nothing past that man. Posing as catatonic is nothing for that man!”

“Come now, he wouldn't put his brother through something like that, not the way he spoils the brat.” He shrugged. “And even if he would, you know he couldn't stand leaving KaibaCorp to be run by anyone else, not even for a day. Besides, the kid must have had him examined inside and out twelve times already. No way he could he could bluff through that.”

“Pfft. If anyone could fake the experts out, he could. But, OK, let's say I believe you.” Otaki lowered his voice. “Just what are you proposing, Daimon?”

Daimon smiled. “I thought so.” Dropping his smile, he whispered, “You know my recent business trip to San Francisco?”

“Right. Parts.”

“Not just that. I had time to drop by the office of a friend. Just a social call.”

“A social call?”

“If anyone asks, Pegasus J Crawford is doing very well,” Daimon said. “… You know, we ended up talking shop a bit, you know how it is. I'm afraid I might have let something slip about the VR pod project—I've been a very bad boy. Crawford would love to get his hands on that, believe me.”

“Really.”

“Too bad his company doesn't have that know-how, huh?”

“Too bad. I guess he wishes he could take over KaibaCorp.”

“And all he'd need would be a little help from a few key men within KaibaCorp.”

“I do believe I'm interested. Tell me more.”

Everything that could be done was done, of course. There was more than money enough, and Mokuba saw to it. He insisted upon it. But no amount of money was enough to awaken Seto from the state of catatonia that he was in—that had resulted from whatever Yugi had done.

Today, Mokuba accompanied his brother home from his private room at Domino General Hospital. Once the nursing staff had him settled in, Mokuba sent them on break and pushed Seto's wheelchair out onto the balcony. “There,” he said, trying to keep up a cheerful tone. “Isn't that better? A little fresh air instead of hospital air. It can't be good to breathe fumes from all those disinfectant cleaners all the time.”

Mokuba carefully arranged Seto's blanket around his shoulders and gave him a hug. He couldn't help shivering a little, though; the expression on his brother's face was ghastly. Mokuba couldn't stand seeing such an empty expression on the face of his brilliant, active brother. He turned away, making himself busy arranging things on Seto's table for the staff so that he wouldn't have to look for a moment. He didn't want to think about what Yugi had done—it must have been horrible. He promised that it would fix Seto; that he'd broken up Seto's heart and taken out the evil part, and that Seto was strong enough to put everything back together.

But Yugi did all that and just left us here, damn it. They go on about friendship …

I'm only a kid!

Fuck them, Mokuba thought, turning back to his brother. He refused to let him see how scared he really was. “Hey, Nii-sama? I'm sorry, but I can't stay long today,” he said lightly. “I have to go to KaibaCorp. Someone has to run that place while you're out of commission.

“I really wish I could stick around and read to you. I have The Count of Monte Cristo right here. Remember? We used to read together when I was little. It was one of your favorites. Remember how you helped me with my letters? I'll try to be back early, but I can't promise. I have to keep an eye on those guys … the Big Five? Just as you predicted, I think they're going to become a problem. Honest, Nii-sama, could you hurry up and get well? I could really use your help with them because I'm not sure that I'll be able to handle all of them by myself. I can't tell what they're planning.

“But don't worry, Nii-sama. I have it under control. Remember how we planned for emergencies? You were right. And I have it hidden away, just like we planned.” His hand unconsciously drifted up to the card-shaped locket that was suspended from his neck. “They'll never find it. So you can get better and not worry. But, still, I'd feel better if you were awake. So … please? Come back as soon as you can?”

Mokuba gingerly lifted one of Seto's hands. It came up easily enough, sort of floating, but it was limp and inert in his. He wanted to cry. When he was sure his voice would be steady, he said, “You know, we can't go forward with any of our plans until you wake up. I want to start planning KaibaLand amusement parks—real ones, with outdoor roller coasters and big shows—right away.”

When Mokuba let go of Seto's hand it just stayed there, hanging in midair until Mokuba moved it back onto the armrest of the wheelchair. It was too weird.

He sighed. “Well, Nii-sama, I'm leaving. I'll be back as soon as I can.” He forced a smile, then turned, but paused at the balcony door. Why does it have to be this way? “Y-Yugi promised you'll be better than ever when you wake up,” he said. It felt lame to say it, but he needed to.

He rushed from the balcony and through the mansion, the tears starting to flow.

I need you to be better.

Afterward, Yugi made Jounouchi tell him everything that had happened after his other self took over. So, as they sat on the floor of Yugi's room with an Uno deck forgotten between them, Jounouchi told the tale in a few bold strokes. After he finished, Yugi thought it over.

“Yugi?” Jounouchi asked after Yugi hadn't said anything for some time. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he said. “You know, I don't think he really meant to kill us.”

“What? You could've fooled me!”

“Yeah, that's true,” Yugi said, hesitating. Finally he added, “But if he really wanted to kill me, he could have just sent an assassin out and I would have been dead before the other me even had a chance to react. All the games could be beaten.”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. “C'mon Yugi, don't defend him! He put your grandpa into the hospital and forced us into this!”

“Honestly, Jounouchi, I'm not. It's just that I'm trying to understand. When everything was going on, with Grandpa hurt and everyone in danger, I was scared out of my mind. But now I can't help thinking that if all that wasn't going on, if we hadn't been fighting for our lives, today would have been the most fun I've ever had.”

“That's a hell of a big if, Yugi.”

He laughed. “I guess you're right. But look at how impressive it was, and he built it just for me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before.”

“Maybe, but it was all about revenge. Get your head on straight.”

“I guess. But it's still just a little flattering, don't you think?”

“You're way too forgiving. Forget him already and let's play Uno, for Pete's sake!”

Ota sat in Pegasus J Crawford's office, outlining the KaibaCorp technology that he believed Pegasus might be interested in.

Pegasus proceeded to grill him on any number of details, particularly on the VR technology. Ota was relieved that he'd had a chance to thoroughly inventory all of the projects that KaibaCorp was working on since Kaiba Seto took over before flying out. Still he had to caution, “However, any number of unfinished projects are currently on hold because of the state of Kaiba Seto's health. It's unknown when, or if, he'll recover.”

“So it's true? He's catatonic?”

“Yes, I'm afraid it is. Does that pose a problem?”

“That?” He fancied that he saw a golden glimmer behind the platinum hair as Pegasus said, “Don't worry about that. Kaiba Seto is still an asset of KaibaCorp. He might be catatonic right now, but if anyone can reach that brilliant mind of his and find out whether there is anything left in it that can be salvaged, I can.”

He shivered, thinking, I believe you, not quite knowing why. He was glad that whatever that eye was hiding behind the veil of hair wasn't looking into him.

At the Kaiba mansion, Kaiba Seto sat in his wheelchair, inert, the last rays of the sunset splashed across his vacant face. A soft hum of voices could be heard behind him as the nursing staff changed shifts.

All this, the view, the murmur of the staff, went totally unnoticed by Kaiba Seto. He could see; he could hear; but none of that sensory information registered. All of his attention was turned inward.

Somewhere deep inside, his mind was hard at work, gathering the scattered pieces of himself. It was the most complex puzzle he'd ever tried to put together. He sensed this; he couldn't exactly remember doing puzzles—or doing anything—but it seemed as though he had … and hadn't he done them with someone else? Perhaps he would remember when the puzzle was solved.

The puzzle was the only thing there was, and he couldn't go on until it was solved.

Slowly, bit by bit, he started finding pieces that fit together.

This was going to take a long time, especially because there were a few pieces that didn't fit at all. They seemed to belong to another puzzle entirely. It would take a while to sort those odd pieces out and set them aside.

In the dark recesses of Kaiba Seto's mind, there was only himself and the puzzle in a tiny pool of light …. Only, every now and then, he could feel a presence watching from the shadows.

Above the Kame Game Shop, Yugi prepared for bed. The news was out that Kaiba Seto had lost to an unknown, was ill, and was forced to take a leave of absence. KaibaCorp stock had dropped substantially.

Yugi wondered how long it would take for Kaiba to get better. His other self had promised he would get better.

He climbed into bed and turned off the light, but he couldn't stop thinking of the people his other self had dealt with before. A few people had turned out all right, but a lot of people had ended up horribly injured, or crazy … or dead. Maybe they had deserved it, and he'd done it to save Yugi and his friends, but his other self was so smart. It was like he was a superhero or something. It wasn't as though those people weren't doing anything wrong, and Yugi was grateful for his other self's help. But, still. Couldn't he have fixed things without hurting so many people?

What if Kaiba can't figure it out? What if he never got better?

Yugi had promised his friends not to be afraid of his other self anymore, but it was hard not to be nervous. He stood up, turning on the light, and began pacing.

He saved us, he reminded himself. Of course, he thought, we got through a lot of it without his help this time …

Even if I'm not afraid of him, he thought, I don't have to agree with everything he does. If he hadn't done that Experience of Death thing, maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way.

If only he could talk to his other self, face to face.

Yugi stopped and stared into his mirror, tears streaming down his face.

“Other Me, I wish you could hear me! If you can hear me, listen up! I have something to say to you! All this might have never happened if you hadn't overdone it! All he did was try to steal a card! Is death—or even just a taste of it—a reasonable punishment for stealing a card? So what happened? It all escalated. And Grandpa suffered for it. And now Kaiba. Again. You're mad because he tried to hurt me, but I have you. As long as I have you to help me, I don't have to worry about Kaiba—or-or people lots worse than Kaiba. There are people lots worse than him.” Yugi paused, as though he expected an answer, but he knew his other self never said anything. Damn it, he thought. His other self probably couldn't even hear him. “Kaiba might be a bad loser,” he shouted, “but you're a bad winner, you hear me?!” His voice diminished to a whisper.

“You're a bad winner.”

~ fin ~