Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Too Much To Ask ❯ Memories ( Chapter 2 )

 

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Too Much To Ask

 

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Chapter 2: Memories

 

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Eshe's Point Of View

 

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I'm watching Seto on TV as he gives a speech about the upcoming Battle City Tournament that he's hosting. He is making the announcement from one of his blimps, looking as elegant as ever.

 

The commencement of the Battle City Tournament is tomorrow. I know he's going to be busy with that until the finals end. I doubt I'll ever get through to him if I just call him.

 

So I've decided to enter the tournament myself. I have some experience playing Duel Monsters, although it wasn't that popular back at England. I will have to hone my skills if I want to make it to the Battle City Finals and meet Seto in person.

 

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It's funny when you think it's gonna work out

 

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Wait a minute, I realized. The duelists registered to compete in the Battle City Tournament are all top-rate duelists. They have tons of experience with Duel Monsters, and most of them are champions. I mean, Yugi Muto will be there, the Duel Monsters Champion of the world. And then there's Joey Wheeler, who took second place in Duelist Kingdom. There's Weevil Underwood, Rex Raptor, Mai Valentine--they're all bound to be there. And there's Seto Kaiba himself. I'll never make it to the finals…there has to be another way…

 

I grabbed my cell phone and flipped it open. I dialed the number that Seto gave me that day, six years ago. The ten digits had been burned into my memory, recorded with the accuracy of the most advanced computers in the world. Now, the memory was brighter than ever, as a punched in those ten numbers into my cell phone. On the third ring, a cool, crisp voice initiated the conversation.

 

“Look, I don't know how you got this number, but if you call again, I will track you down and make sure you go to jail for interrupting--”

 

“Seto?” I interrupted, my voice hesitant.

 

“Who is this? I demand to know your name!” was Seto's cold reply.

 

-“Hello. Kaiba speaking.”-

 

His voice had undergone a complete transformation over the years. It was no longer the open, friendly voice I once knew and held so dearly. This voice was cold, hard, and distant. It seemed like a completely different person. But deep down, I knew it was Seto.

 

“This is Eshe,” I replied calmly. “Eshe Tutankhka. Do you remember me, Seto?”

 

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “What's the meaning of this?” he stipulated, his voice icy.

 

-“Seto! It's Eshe; do you remember me?”

 

“Eshe?” His voice had brightened considerably, in comparison to the dull tone he had used at the beginning of the call. “I can't believe it! How did you manage to call us?”-

 

What happened to that, `I'm glad to hear from you!' kind of thing? What happened to you, Seto? I wondered.

 

“I was wondering if we could get together for lunch,” I explained. “I just moved to Japan last week. I'd love it if Mokuba could come, too. I wanted to catch up on what happened over the past few years.” Although Seto was waiting patiently for me to finish, I could sense his distrust. Who could blame him, though? I'm sure there are always people after his money. After all, I haven't talked to him in about six years; of course he's going to be suspicious.

 

“Eshe, I'm a very busy man. I have a job to do. I don't have time for lunch dates with people who I haven't spoken to in years. I don't have time for people like you who are after my money, snaking their way back into my life to take advantage of me.”

 

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'Til you chose work over me;

 

You're so lame

 

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Seto's words hit me as though he were ripping my heart in half. The agony of those years that he spent with Gozaburo poured out of that sentence. The bitterness and anger it caused him soaked every word.

 

I wanted my Seto back. I wanted back the sweet boy with a heart of gold, who had a little brother with a heart equally as warm. I wanted back the boy who cared for his brother more than anything. I wanted back the person who valued friendship.

 

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I thought you were cool

 

Until the point

 

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Though the shock silenced me for a moment, I retaliated as soon as it wore away.

 

“You didn't call me. You told me you would call me, because I couldn't call you. I understand that you couldn't use the phone because Gozaburo wouldn't allow it. But you never called me, not even after Gozaburo's death!”

 

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Until the point

 

You didn't call me

 

When you said you would

 

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“Tutankhka, if you don't stop harassing me, I will block your number from this phone and report you to the police,” he responded, his voice livid. “If need be, I will have you arrested. I can have you evicted from your house AND Japan in a matter of minutes.”

 

I froze. Seto never called me by my last name. He's only done that once in all the years I've known him, and it was because he was seriously pissed. It's a day I will never forget…

 

-It was a dark, gloomy day in December. I was sitting on a swing when I heard somebody whimpering in a nearby alley, accompanied by three angry voices.

 

“Give us your money, kid!”

 

“No… please don't hurt me…”

 

There was a quiet snickering. “So you want to take us up on that offer for a knuckle sandwich, punk?”

 

“You dare defy us?”

 

I quietly treaded near the alley opening and glanced around the corner. I saw Mokuba, being held against the wall by two older kids, and the third one standing in Mokuba's face, a smirk plastered on his face. I felt my body freeze; I couldn't move. I panicked, staring helplessly at Mokuba's weak body. A sharp crunch jolted me out of my terror, only to replace it with alarm and dread. I watched as Mokuba slumped towards the ground, blood pouring out of his nose. His right arm hung lifelessly at his side.

 

Horrified, I ran for help. I ran straight to where I knew Seto would be, in the lounge, studying Gozaburo Kaiba's chess strategies.

 

“Seto!” I gasped. “Mokuba--”

 

Seto stared up at me, troubled by my panting. “Eshe, calm down. What happened?”

 

“Mokuba--he's been hurt. Some bullies picked a fight with him,” I explained quickly.

 

“Where?” he demanded, rising from his seat.

 

“Follow me!” I bolted towards the alley, Seto following at my heels.

 

When we finally arrived at the alley, we found Mokuba leaning against the wall, apparently unconscious.

 

“What happened to him?” he asked me through his clenched teeth. I saw a spark of anger in his eyes that I'd never seen before. “Tell me what happened to him, Tutankhka!”

 

“T-there were b-big kids,” I sobbed. “They beat up Mokuba. They asked him for his m-money. I think they b-broke his arm.”

 

Suddenly, Seto seized my shirt collar, pushing me up against the wall. His nose was centimeters from mine; I could feel his breath crawling down my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

 

“Why didn't you help him?” he growled, his voice husky. “Why didn't you help my brother, Tutankhka?” His voice was bitter as he spat out my last name, as if it were a curse.

 

“I-I couldn't, Seto!” I stuttered, my voice pleading. “They were t-too big! I couldn't do anything!”

 

“Did you even TRY to help him?” he thundered. Seto's voice was twisted with hate. He shook me as he spoke, causing my head to slam into the wall. “NO! You didn't! If you had, my brother wouldn't have A BROKEN ARM!!”

 

I felt myself cringe as his words hit me like a blow to the stomach. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks as I spoke to him for the last time that week. “I'm sorry, Seto.”

 

“DON'T call me that, Tutankhka!” he interjected, releasing me roughly. “Get out of my sight before you have a REAL problem!”

 

I fled. I scurried away, fearful of what might happen if I didn't. As much as I wanted to make sure Mokuba was okay, I ran.-

 

“You wouldn't force me out of here, Seto,” a responded, my voice confident.

 

“Don't call me that, Tutankhka!” he shrieked. “Don't call me again! Leave Mokuba and me alone, got it?” He hung up, slamming the phone onto the receiver.

 

-“DON'T call me that, Tutankhka! Get out of my sight before you have a REAL problem!”-

 

“All right,” I whispered. “I'm sorry…”

 

I switched off my cell phone, tears raining down onto the floor.

 

I guess I'll have to move onto Plan B: Enter the Battle City Tournament.

 

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