Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Web of Fate ❯ Falling pieces ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Same as previous. Don't own, so don't sue.

A/N: Well, the plots are sort of converging at the moment. I've introduced nearly all the secondary characters... Now I'm just waiting for them to introduce themselves to each other. Ryou and Bakura are obviously two different names for two different people. There are no yamis or hikaris for the purposes of this story.

Also, thanks to Kyna and Moe for the beta.

Completed: 18/12/04

falling pieces

“What are you doing?” Yami asked curiously, a tad amused because he had never seen Seto study so much for so long and for so much. There'd been times when Seto had thrown himself into anything that caught his interest, nearly ignoring everything else in his determination to explore, but they usually didn't last long. After he'd conquered what he'd set out to do, he had no interest anymore.

“None of your business,” Seto said dismissively. He didn't even look up, his mind still focused within the pages of a thick, hardcover.

Yami shrugged, even though Seto couldn't see it, and settled down on Seto's bed. Of course, he should just do as the other wanted and leave Seto to his reading, but when was Yami so accommodating? Never, was the answer that Seto knew by heart. Never, was pretty much the only answer when it came to Seto, Yami admitted to himself. Just because Seto said so didn't mean that Seto didn't need it, and Yami found to his own amused disbelief that he was meddling with things he was told not to. He didn't stop though. And he was certain Seto wouldn't chase him away. After their first chess match, Seto hadn't even tried again, instead spending the rest of their time together wanting to play rematch after rematch. To no avail, of course, and Yami was going to keep it that way. He had to. His only worth to Seto was his value as an opponent.

The books splayed on top of Seto's compact desk were all about chess. Chess, and a specific person, Yami thought as he eyed newspapers and magazines that looked out of place with Seto's other odds and ends. It was interesting and intriguing and Yami couldn't help his curiosity. Who was, Yami squinted and leaned forward, this Gozaburo Kaiba?

-------

“That went well,” Seto said sarcastically and glared at the exit his five board members had just gone through. “Really well, in fact.”

“Better than it would have,” Yami corrected, crossing his arms and giving Seto a narrow-eyed look. “They may be useful yet.”

“Useful?” Seto snorted. “They're useless. For years they`ve tried to please Gozaburo, not making a single move because they were afraid and stupid. Then we come along and suddenly, they were our allies. Of course, they couldn`t be our allies on surface. And of course they couldn't help us while Gozaburo could be suspicious. No, they were just on our side while we had the shares, and they did nothing to help.”

“But they did help.”

“When it looked like we were winning.”

“But they did — they could still be useful. We'll get rid of them after.”

Seto studied Yami carefully, lightly assessing, before he gave in with a surly nod. “I'd rather take care of them now.”

“You'd rather cut them off and let them fester, you mean.” Yami smiled wryly. “It will be much worse if that happened.”

“Maybe,” Seto allowed and sighed. “They`ve served their roles. I`m done with them.”

Now, it was Yami's turn to study Seto; what he found, he kept to himself.

“I'll deal with them when the time comes,” he said glibly, deciding to leave the unspoken words alone and let Seto sort them out in his own time. He didn't know whether this offer of help was going to be rejected, but Seto was unpredictable at most times and entirely too predictable at others.

“We'll deal with them together,” Seto countered, turning away from Yami, and unable to do anything but. Weaknesses, he allowed, he had only two so far, but he didn't want to give away too much, too soon. Quite possibly never at all if he had his way, though, at the moment it didn't do him much good. Yami could read him like a book.

He loved it.

He resented it.

Yami never let him resent it for anything less than a brief, dark moment.

“Of course. Maybe we should look at what Mokuba prepared for us.” Yami changed the subject, letting the tension abate.

Seto breathed a little too deeply and nodded slowly. “I wonder which one he chose.”

“Wouldn't matter. It's not like we can say no.” Yami snorted in amusement. “Or should I say that you can't say no. I do have a fair bit of resistance left in me.”

“If by a fair bit of resistance you mean next to none, then I agree.”

But Seto picked up the folder and flicked through it anyway.

“Domino High?” he read. “At least it's close to Mokuba`s own school.”

“Then I guess you approve,” Yami said dryly. “I'm sure Mokuba will jump for joy.”

-------

“Seto?”

Seto blinked wearily and looked up at the hesitant face of his little brother, who was looking at him with plaintive confusion. “Yes, Mokuba.”

“What are you doing?” he said softly, biting his lip instinctively.

“What do mean?” Seto tried to play dumb, as if it was ever successful with his precocious sibling, but he needed to stall for time — just enough so that he could think.

Mokuba frowned. “I mean this. Here.” He gestured around Seto. “You're always in here, and you never want to play with me anymore. And you keep on saying `Later Mokuba. Later'. But it's already later and you're still — here. I know you're also getting Yami to distract me. I know.”

Mokuba took a deep breath before saying something that nearly tore Seto's heart into little pieces. “Are you mad at me?”

Large dark eyes looked at him with uncertainty. With hurt, confusion and pain, and no small amount of insecurity. Seto lashed at himself inwardly.

“No!” He shook his head adamantly. “Never.”

He went to Mokuba and hugged him — hard. “Don't ever think that. I mean it, Mokuba. Don't ever think that because it's not true — won't ever be true. I will never be mad at you, okay?”

Mokuba still looked uncertain. “Are you sure?”

Seto felt like he had somehow failed in the worst way possible — all this time, he had tried so hard to succeed, to win — and it didn't amount to much. What came of it other than Mokuba's insecurity and fear? To him, he had failed already without even trying. He took a deep breath, tightly containing his anger because at this rate, Mokuba would misunderstand and think he was angry at him, when in fact, Seto was trying his best to not lash at himself. He could do that later; right now, he had to make sure Mokuba understood his position in his life.

“I'm very sure, Mokuba. I don't know why you would think I'm mad at you, but listen, I will never be angry with you, okay? This — this is just a means to an end. Remember how I said I was going to get us a better place to live?”

Mokuba nodded, face pressed against Seto's chest. “Well, I think I'm close to getting it.”

“You sure, Seto?” Mokuba asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah, “ he said softly, one hand lightly running through Mokuba's long mane. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

------

Marik strapped his seatbelt on, ignoring the friendly, bright voice of the flight attendant and looked out of the plane. He had pleaded with Ishizu for the window seat when they had gotten their tickets, and like most doting older sisters, she had given in without much of a fight; Odeon had smiled and then taken the seat closest to the aisle, both guard and brother while Ishizu had taken the middle. This would be the first time either one of them had gone anywhere out of Egypt, much less anywhere so far away. Marik wasn't sure whether to be nervous or excited or both. He decided both, since he had wanted to travel for as long as he remembered; the underground tomb they called home had been stifling — dark and dank and so unbearable that he had fought every single day he'd woken up in. He had fought against the raging demons in his own mind, had clamped hands so tight around his head that nail marks and bruises marred tanned flesh.

He remembered the coolness of Odeon's soothing hands as he smeared ointment on his bruises, and then wrapped bandages over around his torso, particularly gentle with his back. That had soothed his demons more than anything, and he had rested, yearning for things he shouldn't, but couldn't — didn't want to stop. As a dutiful son, fulfilling his destiny, he had no right to want more.

In the end though, he found that his wish had a price. His father's death, sudden and abrupt as it was, had changed their lives in a matter of minutes. The Pharaoh's return had been signalled, and now their roles had become clear. This was what their father said, just as the light faded from his eyes, and he fell, dark grey robes lining the stone floor.

They would leave Egypt and show the Pharaoh His past, His future, and His destiny.

Marik, if he was honest with himself, didn't give a damn about the Pharaoh. All his life, he had been told that he would serve the Pharaoh, give him this mysterious message that would link him to his past and show him the way to the future. All his life, he had been locked up in that— that tomb— awaiting for some nameless lord who would come in three thousand years time. All his life, he had been thrust into a world where he was a nameless servant. And for what cause? So that they could spend the remainder of their lives under the rule of another dictator?

He didn't want another. He had already spent one year too many holding onto ancient rules that were obsolete in this day and time; he would not spend another more.

He loved and hated and feared his father, but in the end, he was still his father even though Marik was under no illusions about the nature of his father's heart.

“We are ready for take off. Thank you for listening, and if you have need for any assistance, we will be with you shortly.”

The flight attendant flashed a smile. Marik took no notice; he was too busy staring out of the window.

------

Bakura stared at the alarm clock with something akin to hatred. He never understood the need for school at this early in the morning and had never tried to; he was required to go and that was that. It didn't help that Bakura would rather break the law than go, but his twin brother Ryou had somehow managed to convince him he needed to. Or something. Bakura didn't care; he only went because he knew Ryou all too well. He snorted. His brother didn't know the meaning of taken advantage of — not like Bakura did anyway. So it was pretty much his job to scare away all the students who thought they could take advantage of Ryou. Of course, it wasn't as if it was chore or anything; Bakura had a talent for intimidation, and he knew it from the first time he pushed over that bully in pre-school to a fortnight ago when he roughed up two morons who had dared to 'ask' him for his lunch money. They weren't going to do that again any time soon, Bakura thought smugly.

“Bakura, wake up.” Ryou tried to pull his blanket off, but Bakura held on tightly.

“No. Leave me a alone,” he tried to growl from under the blanket.

“This is our first day at Domino High,” Ryou said patiently, as if he did this every single day. Which he did, with several variations since Bakura made sure to cling to his mattress until the very last minute. There was no point in going early, and Bakura usually just ended up bored there, with no students to torment so he decided they should just get there right when the bell rang. Sometimes later, if Bakura could help it.

“And if you don't get up,” Ryou continued, “I will personally throw away all your clothes.”

Bakura narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn't.”

“I would.” Ryou smiled, very sincere.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Bakura let the blanket fall, and Ryou smugly grabbed his hand, tugging him up in one pull. He pushed and prodded Bakura until he finally snarled and grunted off to the bathroom, grumbling all the way about annoying younger brothers and their incessant nagging. Ryou just had to be the good twin, Bakura thought irritatingly. And in doing so, he just had to drag Bakura onto his side. He thought-grumbled his way through taking his clothes off, through putting away his Ring aside, and finally through taking a shower. He got back out feeling less sleepy and annoyed, but Ryou didn't need to know that, and went to their kitchen table in his usual blue shirt and trousers, Ring around his neck, where breakfast was set every morning. Bakura never did any of the chores if he could help it, but sometimes it irked him no end to see his twin doing everything around the house. It wasn't his fault that they were by themselves. It wasn't his fault their father needed to wander around the world, trying to forget what he never could. And it certainly wasn't his fault that Ryou had no one else other than him. But he still didn't like it, so he'd picked up after himself and sometimes even cooked; though, he only did that when Ryou was exhausted since his cooking tended towards simple and basic, and sometimes tasteless.

He guessed he was capable of something other than malice after all. Not that he liked that thought any more than he liked the thought of waking up.

Grumbling underneath his breath, he quickly slathered some butter onto his toast and took several large bites. Ryou, the ever punctual one, had already eaten his and was now sitting opposite Bakura, staring at him as he finished.

“Stop looking at me,” Bakura muttered sourly as he chewed.

Ryou just stared at him calmly.

Bakura finished off the last bits of his breakfast and drank his milk uneasily. “Fine, I'm sorry for not waking up. Are you happy now?”

No response. Ryou stared some more.

“Oh, for crying out loud — I'm sorry. I'm sorry we're not going to be at school early. I'm sorry I do this every single day at every single school we go to. There. Now would you stop looking at me?” he growled.

“I accept your apology, even though I know you will never change,” Ryou said, smiling. He stood up. “Are you finished?” He looked pointedly at his watch.

Bakura could feel a snarl waiting to be unleashed. He glared at Ryou sourly for one last time, and then he went to put his plate and cup away, grumbling under his breath all the while. His twin knew just how to get at him; there was no doubt about that. And Bakura usually let him, even though he ended being irritated throughout the day and taking it out on any who crossed his path.

He grumbled even as they left their apartment, Ryou being fastidious with locking and checking they had everything they needed for their first day at Domino High School. Bakura suffered it with his arms crossed and a miserable glare on his face; he was beginning to think his face was going to have either a permanent glare or smirk etched on.

Which, wasn't all that bad, he thought when they had arrived. Already the more cautious students were staying away from him in an instinctive need for safety. Bakura almost smiled. That was one of the few pleasures he derived from the education system; he didn't really give a damn about anything else, though Ryou, the annoying twin, made sure he was passing all his classes.

As soon as they entered the halls, Ryou began searching through their schedule, indicating to Bakura which classes were his and which weren't. They pretty much had the exact same classes together except for Biology, which Bakura couldn't be bothered with and which Ryou really wanted to do, so Bakura decided to take both Classical Studies and History. He didn't care much for either though he'd reluctantly mentioned to Ryou once that he did like Classics. He wasn't sure why, but he found it interesting at times; he attributed it to the fact that their father was an archaeologist, and the hundreds of souvenirs they'd accumulated over the years —including the Ring hanging around his neck at the moment — must have had some invisible effect on him.

“There's our first class,” Ryou announced, tugging him. “History.”

Bakura was about to make some sarcastic remark about co-dependency when he felt a heated flush on his chest. Quickly, he splayed a hand over the area to search, before he realised it wasn't him that was the problem. It was the Ring. A trickle of trepidation ran down his spine, but he was more curious and excited than wary. There was something familiar about this—the movement of the Ring, the sensation of a sharp pang curling around his mind. It was almost as if electricity was making its way through his body from the Ring, snaking out of his fingertips to point in one direction. The only direction.

If Ryou was surprised at his sudden speedy strides towards their first class, he made no visible indication. Even if he had, Bakura wasn't sure he would notice, so caught up in the spark of sensation that demanded he enter now. There was something vastly important there, awaiting to be taken if Bakura just knew. And Bakura wanted to know. He had to.

Amarin Rose: Heh. Very true. They have a rather...complicated relationship...one I'm hoping will improve too, given the events that will take place soon.

Blue September: Ah, thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying this piece as well... and well, here's an update. (smiles).

Demon: Thank you! I can't believe you can reread this and still enjoy it as much. (smiles). I will try to keep the characterisations as consistent as possible... Writing is a lot of fun when you have time so you should give it a try. You never know...

Niffe_24: Yep. Definitely. Everything's going to come together...but not all at once. ^^;