Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ I Guess It was in the Cards ❯ The First Game ( Chapter 3 )

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. I would love to know if you like it, how you think it's going, and if everyone is staying in character.

CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST GAME

SETO KAIBA'S NARRATIVE

"Kaiba!"

"Go away."

I wonder if there will ever come a time when I don't hate the sound of my adopted name. The name that has been imposed on me. The name I have chosen. I have often wondered what sort of parents would name their eldest son "Turmoil." But my given name has never has the power to wound that the more innocent sounding "Seahorse" does. And at the moment, I didn't need a shouted reminder that I was indeed a Kaiba. Someone capable of hurting his own brother.

I should have expected Yami. Except for Yugi, no one else would have bothered coming to find me - and Yugi was too shy to barge in where he was so obviously unwanted. But Yami was different. He was powerful, stern and sure of himself -- although he had shown surprising flashes of gentleness and insight - or were those glimpses of Yugi, instead? I knew I could beat Yugi, if he fought without his Yami. For the first time, I wondered if the reverse was true -- would Yami would be as formidable an opponent now? Was he still the same duelist without Yugi's voice in his ear? Well, whoever the hell he was, I didn't want him. And it was my office.

"Go away," I repeated.

"I came to see if you're all right."

"You came. You've seen. Now go."

With my usual exquisitely bad luck, I picked that moment to cough. Yami saw my involuntary wince. Great. Now I'd probably never get rid of him, I thought, warming to the challenge.

"You need a doctor. Or a hospital."

I kept staring at the computer screen, ignoring him. I had blackened half of it so I could see his reflection. It was a waiting game now, and I've always liked games. I could see him trying to find a lever that would make me listen, make me do what he wanted. I could see it in his eyes when he found it. But he hesitated, probably out of some misguided sense of fair play. He went ahead anyway, as I knew he would, as he always does -- throwing down his winning card, "Mokuba will be here soon. Do you really want him to see you in pain? He feels responsible enough as it is."

It always comes back to Mokuba. My little brother and my impossible promises.

"I concede," I said wearily, "You're right. I'll call a doctor. Mokuba doesn't deserve this."

I'll never understand Yami. He had just won, yet his face was a study in frustration, his eyes flashed with anger. "Why do you always insist that you're worthless? That only Mokuba's life has any value? Mokuba doesn't deserve this? You're the one with a cracked rib! What about what you deserve?"

"We both know what I deserve."

"You didn't mean to hurt him. It was an accident."

"This time."

This was no longer a game. I suddenly looked down, realizing I had been scratching my left arm, harder and harder. If I was going to have any chance of keeping my latest promise to Mokuba, I had to end this conversation, quick.

I reached for the speaker phone button. "Tell Dr. Inoa at Kaiba Land to get over here."

I turned back to the computer and more of the waiting game.