Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ A Shovel And Some Faith ❯ Chapter 8

Title: A Shovel And Some Faith - Chapter 8/10

Author: whosjeebus

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Seto/Jou, Bakura/OMC, threesome

Beta: Jennie B. (Psst! I'll let you in on a lil' secret. She gets killed in Book 6!)

Spoilers: Ningunos (that means "none" in Spanish, y'all!)

Warnings: Read at your own risk. Seriously. This fic contains situations of a decidedly grotesque nature. If you get squicked, and STILL keep reading, don't blame me for your nightmares. I warned ya. I will say no more. **looks shifty-eyed**

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, and probably never will. Kazuki Takahashi will most likely take a hit out on me if he ever reads this fic.

Summary: Seto's kinks have steadily become more and more extreme, much to Jounouchi's dismay. Has he finally gone TOO far with his latest fetish?




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Chapter 8:

(Sunday Afternoon)


Seto sat inside his warm, comfortable limousine, quietly observing the small ceremony taking place in the distance. Through the darkly tinted glass, the atmosphere seemed more dismal, more grim and stifling than it actually was. He could sense grey clouds looming oppressively overhead, and a slight breeze rustled the branches of the surrounding trees restlessly. Seto remained frozen in place, cocooned within his safe shell of leather and metal, unable to bring himself to exit the vehicle and show his face at this solemn gathering. He imagined his guilt was writ prominently on his features, that their accusing fingers would fly out the moment he stepped into their midst, their cries of grief and outrage mingled with his own shouts of self-damning confession. Instead, giving validation to the coward within, he merely watched from afar, knowing as ever, especially in this instance, he was once more the outsider.

Jounouchi's funeral was a quiet, intimate affair, not at all like he would have expected it to be, nor even, he mused, much like Jounouchi would have wanted. Given his lover's proclivity for grand gestures, coupled with his lust for life in general, Seto would have envisioned a raucous street party to be a more fitting farewell.

Adjusting his expensive wool coat more comfortably around him, he leaned an elbow on the door's armrest, supporting his chin with one hand as he gazed out the window across the graveyard. Jounouchi's family and friends stood clustered in a semi-circle around his coffin, just outside the small, stone mausoleum that graced the far corner of the enclosure. A tall, wrought-iron fence rose sharply in the background, and large oak and maple trees gave the area an overall secluded, private feeling. It hadn't come cheap; Seto could attest to that fact himself. He idly wondered if Jou's mother would be surprised when she discovered that Kaiba Corp had covered all the costs of the funeral services and interment. It was a small gesture, really; easily explained away, but with definite selfish intent behind it. He once again mentally congratulated himself on having all his plans in place and all his research completed. He wouldn't have long to wait now. For the time being, he busied himself with observing the various expressions and reactions of the assembled group. As he had no intention of joining them, morbid curiosity would have to be his motivating factor for the moment.

Jounouchi's mother was poised stoically to the right of the priest, and Seto found himself fascinated with the range of emotions that passed over her ashen face. Confusion, anger, and shock all warred for dominance as she wrung her hands ceaselessly before her. To Seto's eyes though, she mostly looked guilty - an expression he was fast becoming intimate with from studying his own face in the mirror - and he made note of the fact that she never took her shadowed eyes off of Jounouchi's coffin. Seto idly wondered what family and friends were told by the police regarding the circumstances of Jou's death. What would their reactions be if they knew about their relationship? Would they regard their son/brother/companion with disgust? Would they exact revenge? Would it be justice enough if they did?

These thoughts cluttered his mind and bickered for his attention as he let his gaze drift onto Shizuka, who was obviously in much worse shape than her mother. This was only to be expected; she and Jounouchi had been close, easily as close as he and Mokuba were, and Seto felt a fresh wave of shame overtake him at his own part in severing that bond. Shizuka was weeping non-stop, not quite hysterical at this point, but he surmised that the sound of her wrenching sobs would be clearly audible to him if he were to roll down the limo's rear window a fraction. Her face was pressed firmly against Otogi's narrow chest, and he in turn had his arm wrapped tightly about her shoulders, his mouth set in a grim line. Occasionally, he would lift his head from hers and look around him, as though it had just occurred to him that he must be dreaming, and he was simply seeking some sort of clue or indicator to confirm it.

Seto was wholly unsurprised to note that Jounouchi's father was not in attendance, and the most charitable thought he could spare the man was to assume he was locked in a jail cell somewhere, his numerous transgressions having finally caught up to him without Jou's dauntless perseverance and protection. The man had hardly even noticed when his son WAS alive, except for when Jou had inserted himself between his father and one of his many vices. Then, and only then, had indifference and scorn turned to blind anger and the desire to inflict damage, both verbal and physical. Often was the night that Katsuya had shown up on his doorstep, bruised and bloody, and Seto had to question whether he had eased the boy's pain or only added to it. He wasn't here to ask, but regardless, the elder Jounouchi didn't merit a place here amongst this wounded throng gathered together in common despair -- undeserving of such an honour, much like Seto himself.

On the priest's opposite side was Anzu, who appeared to be very determinedly NOT sobbing or giving vent to her grief in any conspicuous manner, though her left hand held Honda's in a white-knuckled grip as she stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking. Seto doubted that she was even aware of the tears that streamed unchecked down her face and neck. To her left, Honda's visage was clouded with a thunderous rage, frightening in its intensity even from this distance. His lips moved in silent prayer along with the priest's, and he intermittently raised a shaking hand to his brow and swiped angrily at his eyes.

Seto felt a strange, clinical detachment as he scrutinized them one by one, mulling over the fact that one's deeds in life created something of a blossoming chain reaction in the lives of others; how one reckless act can impact countless people surrounding you, on and on in an endless, pointless cycle. Did they realize it could all be traced back to him? Their anguish, their own guilt and remorse, their love and all their unfinished business with Jounouchi -- would they understand, would they see that it was all Seto's doing, or would they just double back on themselves, victims of their own selfish concerns once the initial grief had passed?

Seto did his best to banish these maudlin thoughts as he continued his perusal of what he'd come to think of as Jou's motley band of mourners. Yami came next, standing next to Honda, with his arms crossed regally over his chest and a stern expression affixed to his angular features. He appeared the most calm and collected of any of them thus far, his attitude akin to that of royalty presiding over a funeral of state. Seto surmised it to be a duty he had performed many times over in his past life, and it would seem that some lessons were more deeply ingrained than others. If one were to look closely, as Seto himself were doing, they would be hard pressed to miss the lines of sorrow and worry etched around his tired, crimson eyes.

Behind and a little to the pharaoh's left stood Ryou, an almost bored expression on his sharp, pale features, his dark eyes darting about restlessly as the priest began to intone his final, solemn benediction for the departed. Sensing this conduct was somewhat out of character for the normally overly compassionate teen, Seto made a second, searching inspection of the boy's face, and was shocked at his discovery. The figure was slightly taller, the eyes more angular, the attitude too disdainful by far. He couldn't imagine that the gentle, refined Ryou would be quite brazen enough to attend a funeral wearing leather pants, even if they WERE black -- that HAD to be Bakura lurking over Yami's shoulder, there was no doubt in Seto's mind.

This revelation caused a concerned flutter in his stomach; Jounouchi had mentioned some time ago that the Ishtar's had come up with a way to keep the tomb robber and the dangerous Millennium Ring under wraps and away from Ryou completely. Having the ancient thief once more on the loose couldn't mean anything pleasant, and he reasoned that maybe it was time to start looking over his own shoulder a little more often now that he was armed with this knowledge. Bakura had always intimidated him to a certain degree, and coupled with the fact that he seemed to hold a rather large grudge against his ancient Egyptian incarnation, the high priest Seth, made Seto experience a modicum of worry that he was less than comfortable with. He sighed deeply, his eyes still trained on the white-haired boy's face. This was an additional factor he hadn't counted on, not to mention the fact that such close interaction between Bakura and Yami was troubling in the extreme.

Jounouchi had informed him numerous times that those two carried a 3000 year old grievance around on their shoulders that both refused to even DISCUSS with their respective hosts, much less anyone else. Despite the frequent looks of utter loathing Bakura directed at the back of Yami's head, the two were practically cozy in each other's pockets compared to their usual level of animosity. This just didn't bode well at all.

It also posed the question: if Bakura was free, then what had happened to Ryou? A brief flash of irrational panic seized his heart at the thought of anything unfortunate occurring to Bakura's gentler counterpart. This alarm was quickly followed by an equally strong rush of shame at his body and mind's insistence that he still lusted after the quiet, unassuming boy, in spite of the promise he'd made to himself and Jou. He reflected back on a time when longing thoughts of Ryou were more prominent in his mind, second only to his desire for Jounouchi himself. He'd always considered Ryou to be more accessible than the mutt, and had even been considering making his intentions known, when Jou had come into his life that day in detention, barreling through his defenses with all the force and subtlety of a Mack truck. He'd never looked back since then, and knew instinctively that it wasn't due to lack of interest on his part. He'd had enough delirious, half-waking fantasies of the three of them entwined together on his bed to dissuade himself from thinking THAT was the reason he'd never pursued the matter further. No, it was Bakura himself that created the obstacle to Seto's burgeoning interest in Ryou; the tomb robber was just too dangerous, too unstable. Seto had judged him to be too much of an unknown factor to risk bringing him into their little circle of two, even after he'd found out that Bakura had been effectively sealed away. It hadn't even been a consideration for some time now; after all, he had been MORE than satisfied with his Puppy alone.

He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat. Was he asking for too much, even now? Jounouchi had warned him about confusing obsession with love. Is this what he meant? Should he cut his losses and leave the matter be? Perhaps he should be thankful for the time they had together and move on with his life, but HOW could he just let Katsuya go like that? Spending eternity never knowing how much he had truly meant to Seto seemed like poor gratitude for one who had given so much.

He shoved these deliberations aside as he watched the small group in the distance break apart, randomly embracing and milling about, unsure of what to do with themselves now that their common bond had been effectively laid to rest. Seto observed the rumpled form of Detective Youko detach himself from a nearby tree and follow after Honda and Anzu as they made their exit. The priest walked Shizuka and her mother over to Otogi's car, offering words of hollow reassurance as Yami and Bakura turned as one and stepped over a grassy rise, their voices low and muted. Taking a deep breath, Seto stepped out of the limo and into the cold, overcast gloom of daylight. He had to make this quick; his lingering presence would pose too many questions, and to be perfectly honest, he was hopeful that he wouldn't be seen at ALL.

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"You wanted to speak with me, Bakura?" Yami murmured distractedly, his eyes far away and clouded. Probably communing with that puling infant of a host, Bakura surmised. The little coward had apparently not even made an appearance for several days now. Yami placed a hand on the thief's elbow and gently guided him over a small hill and away from the sheltered mausoleum.

Snarling, Bakura jerked his arm away from the pharaoh's touch. "Don't you EVER fucking touch me again, do you understand?" He stepped away and panted harshly, struggling for control of his emotions.

At the shorter boy's impassive gaze, he spat out, "I just wanted to let you know that I've got a lead on your little pet's killer. I'll most likely be confronting him tonight."

Yami leaned forward anxiously, and Bakura took a small step backwards, awkwardly trying to cover his discomfiture by shuffling his feet. Ignoring his rival's uneasiness, the pharaoh asked tightly, "Can you be certain you have the right man?"

Bakura snorted. "Of course." He hesitated before adding, "I WILL be later on, anyway. The important question is, do you still want ME to take care of it?"

Yami seemed to draw inward again, before releasing a pent-up sigh. Yugi was still refusing to come forward, preferring to hide among the mazes and corridors of the Millennium Puzzle, reliving happier days and memories with Jounouchi. Yami didn't have it in him to drag his hikari back to the real world just yet; Yugi's denial of the truth was harming no one but himself. Still, it would have been a relief to be able to unburden his own soul in much the same manner, as opposed to being constantly determined and vigilant in his partner's stead.

Finally, after more consideration, he spoke. "As much as I desire vengeance for my own PERSONAL reasons, Yugi has to come first, and I won't allow him to bloody his own hands in this." A worried frown creased his regal brow. "I'm trusting you to handle this with the professionalism and aplomb you were renowned for in Egypt, Bakura. I won't have Ryou suffering the repercussions of your actions just because of your hatred for me."

Bakura bared his teeth in a contemptuous snarl. "Ryou knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to this. Despite his MANY faults, he's neither stupid nor blind. He knows better than anyone what I'm capable of." A glimmer lit one dark eye as he asked, "But I have to wonder, do YOU?"

The other boy nodded solemnly. "I'm well aware, and I've already accepted the risk I've taken by releasing you from your prison. Were Jounouchi's killer of my own flesh and blood, I would not prevent any action on your part." Yami's voice deepened, and took on a menacing edge. "Jounouchi was the brother of my heart. His death must not go unanswered."

Bakura felt the need to smirk slightly at that confession. Yami's addiction to emotional justice had made him blind to the real thing. He should really be more careful what he wished for in the future. He paused, doubt creeping around the edges of his mind. Bakura would like to think that he himself knew better, but deep down inside, he knew that he had his own blindness, just for different things. But none of that mattered now; he had to know one thing for certain before he took a single step forward with his plan. "And you're going to keep your end of our bargain? Knowing exactly what that means for you?"

Yami made a wry face at this, and intoned in a mocking voice, "I'm insulted that you would question your pharaoh's honor in this."

To no one's great surprise, Bakura flew into a miniature, heated rage, his eyes flashing wrath and his slight form trembling with barely suppressed violence. "You were never MY pharaoh! You've proven yourself to be LESS than a living god too many times over for me to swallow that sanctimonious bullshit anymore! Save it for the pitiful sycophants and bootlickers you surround yourself with these days, O great and glorious king! The ones that are left alive, anyway."

Yami refused to be baited into lashing out at Bakura, knowing it would give the ancient spirit far too much satisfaction. "I'm well aware that you'll come for me, tomb robber. In your own good time, I'm certain. Rest assured that I'll be ready when you do, provided that you're unable or unwilling to let go of three millennia of hatred and malice." He turned pleading eyes up to the white-haired boy, his tone disgustingly smooth and rational as he implored, "With your own body, you could start over; you DO realize this? Put vengeance behind you; make a life for yourself here in this modern world. I understand that you've suffered a great many -- "

"Understand?" Bakura laughed nastily, sneering down at Yami with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You don't understand ANYTHING about me, so you can shut your flapping gob right here and now, you worthless, sermonizing bastard."

He growled long and low in the back of his throat, waiting to see if his enemy was sufficiently cowed by his vehement words. "You're just as Ra-damned persistent as Ryou, but neither one of you accursed do-gooders knows what the hell you're talking about. I'll say this once and we won't speak of it again, do you hear? I will NEVER forgive. I will NEVER put vengeance behind me. There's absolutely NOTHING in this world for me until after I've made sure that you've suffered enough for what you did."

Bakura shook himself briefly, breathing deep and allowing his temper to dissipate gradually. It wouldn't do to lose control and spoil everything now; not when he was so close to achieving his goal... "I'll see you in the morning, Pharaoh, and you'd better be prepared to follow through on that promise you made." He stalked off, stepping over the rise and back toward the mausoleum as Yami slumped his shoulders and walked away in the opposite direction.

Cresting the hill, he was met with an unexpected sight, and he pressed himself close against a large tree as he observed the scene before him, leaning close to pick out the faintly murmured words. Kaiba Seto knelt on the hard ground in front of the carved stone edifice that was to be Jounouchi's tomb. He reached into his long, dark coat and pulled out a small bouquet of white lilies, placing them on top of the dully gleaming coffin, his head bowed in supplication. He rested his palm briefly against its cool surface as he spoke, his voice hitching slightly in his throat. "I'm sorry, Katsuya. I'll make it right, I promise. I'll be back later, and you won't have to be alone for much longer." As Bakura strained his ears to catch the words, raindrops began to fall in a leisurely, pattering stream, striking the lid of the coffin and the ground around it with muted, plopping sounds.

The elderly priest returned, and sidled up to Seto as the CEO rose to his feet, placing a comforting hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Be not so afflicted with grief, young man. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," he said, not unkindly.

Seto shrugged the hand off of his shoulder and walked with purposeful strides back to his waiting limousine. His words carried clearly to Bakura as he passed directly by the thief's hiding spot. "The Lord had nothing to do with this."

When he was long gone, Bakura crept out from behind the massive oak tree, a thoughtful expression on his face. It seemed that he wouldn't have to go to Kaiba at all; to his sheer delight, this time, his prey would be coming to him instead. A very interesting development, indeed.

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tbc