Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Pathways ❯ Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Don't own YuGiOh or any of it's characters. I'm getting no profit from this other than stress relief from Life.

 

A/N: The angst is back. I had a couple of bad days and needed a break. This proved to be satisfying. Self-edited, since Moe's away, so all mistakes are mine.

 

All of the events here take place just before Yami crushes Kaiba's mind and just on the fringes of Death-T.

 

Completed: 9 Feb 2005

 

ETA: Here's to hoping this formatting works.

And thank you, HappyDragon. It's so sad to think of Mokuba pre-Mind Crush Kaiba…

 

 

 

Pathways

 

 

There's yelling in the background.

 

Mokuba knows it's something he isn't supposed to hear; he knows it's something Seto would never, ever let him hear in a million years, but he can't help himself. He wants to know, so bad, and Seto never lets him know anyway, so he decides to find out himself.

 

He feigns sleep like a professional. It's not as hard as he would have thought back when they were still in the orphanage, when Mokuba wasn't really that good with lies and games of pretend—not like he's beginning to be now—and it's so easy to wait until one of Gozaburo's servant (he can't remember his name, no matter how hard he tries) leaves. Gozaburo has too many employees anyway. It doesn't matter if Mokuba remembers their names or not since they don't pay him the same amount of attention and scrutiny as they do with his big brother, and as long as Mokuba recognises them, he doesn't care if they were called Greasly or Iago.

 

There's not much he cares about in their new home. It's large and roomy and Mokuba has everything he ever needs, but it's not home, even though Seto keeps saying it is. Mokuba knows it will never be home, and it hurts him when he can't make himself believe in Seto's words. Seto had tried so hard, had given up so much to get them where they are now that Mokuba mourns for what could have been. He mourns, but he also makes certain to show his joy around Seto, just so Seto sees that he hadn't sacrificed himself for nothing. That's probably why he's improved a lot at lying and pretending and imagining. It's easy when his life is basically centred around one person, one illusion, one objective.

 

-:-:-:-:-

 

His toes land silently on the plush, soft carpet. His treads aren't treads at all—they're too quiet, too silent, and Mokuba keeps an eye out for noises that aren't his. He knows that appearances aren't what they seem and shadows aren't so harmless in the light of day. He knows that if he is caught, there will be consequences for Seto to bear, and Mokuba has made a promise to himself that the weight won't be burdened on Seto alone. They will share, like all brothers should; if Mokuba had thought his blood could help, then he would have gone ahead and let the punishments—the threats—run their course. The only obstacle blocking his path is Seto. Seto, his big brother, would rather bleed for him then let Mokuba suffer, and Mokuba would rather bleed than let Seto be destroyed.

 

He thinks it's still not too late, it's never too late. He thinks that it's a truth that won't ever turn into a lie, even when hurtful, painful events take place. Seto has his reasons. Seto always did. Even when those reasons never included him, Mokuba knows another truth that's never a lie: Seto would do anything for him. No matter what happens, no matter the pain, he knows Seto loves him even when he doesn't seem to because Seto has given him everything. And is doing so right now.

 

The voices grow louder even though they are, in fact, at a lower volume than before. Mokuba is aware that he is close, so very close, to what is hidden from him. To what Seto has hidden from him. Should he see? Should he look? Should he—

 

—he presses his ear close to the door, and listens.

 

-:-:-:-:-

 

 

There are snatches of conversation, but what Mokuba is most aware of is the stifled grunts. There is heavy breathing; from who, Mokuba can't tell, except he knows his big brother is in there as well as Gozaburo. He knows because the words punctuating each thud is sneering and loud—loud like Gozaburo's boastful rants, loud like Gozaburo's dark lessons, loud like Gozaburo's presence. He knows it's his brother in there, stifling each painful sound by force of will alone, because he recognises Seto's voice, he recognises the sounds that kill a little bit of himself deep inside.

 

He feels dizzy. His mind is clouded and his eyes blur and he sees nothing but mottled brown drowning in a sea of red. When he closes and opens his eyes finally, when at last he shakes off the dizziness affecting his head, he tiptoes away, looking back now and again. He stills at several feet away from the door and takes one last look back.

 

Seto's always said that one controlled one's destiny. He always told Mokuba that the choices made today are the pathways to the future. Mokuba finally understands now, as he makes his own choices. The only pathways he can take.

 

He walks away, gliding back to his room like a lost soul seeking haven.

 

-:-:-:-:-

 

 

There are things he won't notice, like the way Seto moves: carefully and slowly and with care. There are things he won't see, like the way Seto avoids touching him, the subtle movement of Seto's body as he tenses whenever Mokuba hugs him. And then, there are things he won't ever accept. He won't accept the hardened expression Seto has taken to wearing all the time; he won't accept the cold tone Seto talks with in casual conversations; he won't accept the cooling warmth that Seto now looks at him with. He won't.

 

He tries to pretend that it's all just a game. After all, Seto says so, right? But Seto's hiding, just like he'd been doing every single time they have been allowed to see each other, and this time—this time he knows it's not right. Trying not to see is harder than he thinks, but feeling helpless is even worse. Every time he sees Seto, he sees more and more of a stranger; one, who doesn't care for anyone at all. Not even Mokuba.

 

Mokuba doesn't know what to do about this—about anything—and even if he did, he's not sure he's supposed to. He's been playing pretend for so long, he doesn't know how lose.

 

-:-:-:-:-

 

 

There's a stranger with Seto's face that Mokuba lives with now. He's cold, expressionless, and ruthless. He's Gozaburo, but without actually being Gozaburo, and it feels like a dagger is thrown into his heart whenever Mokuba talks to him. Seto doesn't talk much; he spends most of his time obsessively working, only sparingly stopping for necessities like food and sleep. There's no time for Mokuba at all, not even when Mokuba pleads for it, but then—everything's different now since this stranger has taken over. It's still Seto—that's what hurting him the most—but it's a Seto who's lost himself. It's a Seto who remembers nothing of past, but runs for the future as if it will be his saviour. It's a Seto, who sacrificed too much, and lost what he thought was important once upon a time.

 

Mokuba wants to tell him he can't run away from himself. He wants to tell him that forgetting isn't the answer—it's remembering and learning and making peace—but Seto isn't who he used to be and Mokuba has changed along with him, and they're not the people Mokuba once thought they were. They've turned into something unrecognisable, and Mokuba wants to fix it. He wants to fix it badly, but he still doesn't know how to lose, and now there's a new game that he's only begun to be aware of.

 

He wonders how long it will take to make this stranger-Seto take notice of him. He wonders how much it will take to make this stranger-Seto love him again.

 

He thinks that he doesn't care as long as Seto does in the end.

 

-:-:-:-:-

 

He finally knows now that it will take eternity, because this Seto doesn't care. He can't. Mokuba has tried so hard, he doesn't know how to give up. He knows he's lost the game—both of them. He knows pretending isn't enough anymore; it stopped being enough years ago, but he hadn't been able to let go then. Now he does, and it feels both like a relief and a wound. It feels painful—like breaking a bone; quick and ruthless and easily done with a hard snap—but it's not nearly as painful as Seto's words. Seto's orders.

 

He's lost the game, all three of them if he includes the one with Yugi, and he knows he has to face the consequences. Seto once told him that one controlled one's own destiny—Mokuba is going to do that now. He's going to do what he should have done back when Seto was losing pieces of himself. He's going to fix what he should have fixed, back when he could, and Seto was just starting to lose his way. He had chosen the wrong pathway back then, but he isn't going to do that now. Now, he's going to fix everything.

 

He's going to give back what Seto had lost.

 

If the cost of it happens to be his life, he doesn't mind giving it. He's going to fix everything, and Seto won't be a stranger anymore, and Mokuba will finally find his peace. He just hopes Seto does as well, but either way, he can wait. He'll look down at Seto from above and wait for the time they can be reunited, for the time when they finally can be happy again.

 

He takes a step forward, and walks to his death.

 

He can wait.