Midnight of the Soul
Author: Mother CHOW Goddess
Rating: "T" for swearing, mention of violence, abuse and attempted rape; Shonen-Ai and Yaoi ; SKx RB
Summary: Companion-Sequel to 'Weight of a Feather: Breaking Strain' - Kaiba tries to understand what happened in Domino Park, but comes up with more questions than answers. First Person POV. Set in a slightly Alternate Universe after Battle City using Japanese names for characters, and elements of both manga and anime series. DOMA and the KC Grand Prix arcs of the anime have not occured (and probably won't).
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or any of the characters thereof. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi/ Shueisha Inc., FUNImation Productions, 4Kids, etc. This piece of fiction was written solely for the enjoyment of myself and fellow Yu-Gi-Oh! fans, and no profit is being made by its writing or publication.
Chapter 1: Dark of the Moon
I couldn't do it.
Thank God, and whichever sick, sadistic bastard marked him like that...because I truly believe that it was seeing those scars that shocked me back into sanity and forced me to see the desperate, terrified boy instead of the demonic duelist... to see the victim, not the monster.
"What - who did this?"
"What the hell do you care?" he retorted, and I saw the last flicker of defiance go out of his eyes. Brown, chocolate brown; not the evil red-streaked eyes I remembered from Battle City. He sighed, and it was as if I were watching the air escape from a deflating balloon... emptying of all resistance. "Just do it, Kaiba. Get it over with."
I couldn't. As long as he fought back, resisted and defied my will, I could pretend to myself that this was nothing more than a rather extreme duel. That we had, however informally, agreed to the rules and the penalties; even though, as he pointed out, I had a clear advantage. But now, in the face of this exhausted resignation...
Isono did me a favor with his phone call; he gave me a way out of a situation that had turned unbearable, a way to abandon a disastrous course of action without appearing to back down. Bakura watched with wary disbelief as I chewed out my bodyguard, publicly calling him a moron while in my mind I silently praised his timing as my savior; then when I disconnected the call he almost stopped breathing. Terrified, waiting for my next move.
Mere minutes ago I had taunted his weakness and forced him into a response that satisfied my ego, if not my actual goal. But now all I can see are the scars, similar to the ones I carry on my own body. I've already caused enough damage to this boy Bakura -- I'm ashamed to admit I can't remember his given name -- that no apology could ever make right. I doubt he would accept it, anyway. All I can do is walk away, with yet one more cruelty eating at my conscience.
And if my stride is unsteady, I can blame it on the unevenness of the ground I walk on. If I sit and tremble in the dark privacy of my limousine I can brush it aside as delayed reaction to the accident, or suppressed anger at the idiocy of my underlings. If I walk into the mansion and sweep Mokuba into a crushing hug, it's merely to reassure him that his Niisama is uninjured, other than a few scrapes and bruises.
"Seto, what's wrong?" He knows me too well.
"I was going too fast. I almost struck a pedestrian."
Our father, our real father, died in a car accident struck by a speeding driver. Reason enough for me to have the shakes, for nearly causing a similar tragedy to some other family. No point in telling my little brother the rest: that I attacked, assaulted one of my classmates; someone Mokuba might even consider a friend, the way he considers that pack of wanna-be Duelists that tag along with Mutou Yuugito be friends.
He hugged me even tighter. "Is he all right? The pedestrian?"
"I swerved in time. Put my motorcycle through a hedge."
"Are you all right?"
"I will be." Or maybe not. I haven't been all right for quite some time now. I told that Ishtar woman that I make my own destiny, but lately I've wondered what kind of fucked-up destiny I've managed to create for myself and for Mokuba. Endless hours of work at Kaiba Corporation, sleepless nights at the mansion; Mokuba keeps telling me I need to slow down, take some time off, take a break -- or something else will. Break, that is.
Like it did today.
Today I came within a heartbeat of ... of ... raping a boy my own age, a potential friend, if I ever desired such a thing...and I'm not even sure why.
If it had been any one else, any one! Even Yuugi's grandfather, I know how to deal with. I know how the -tachi thinks, the most likely reactions to my verbal barbs -- just how far to push the Mutt's buttons, for example, before he flies off the handle and tries to jump me -- when to walk away with the last word. But I don't really know Bakura. When he finally snapped back and tried to walk away, I made a terrible mistake: I forgot that he wasn't the Mutt. Or Mazaki. Or even Yuugi. I kept pushing.
Mokuba practically ordered me to stay in for the rest of the night, and I was happy to obey. Glad for once that most of the mansion staff had Thursdaynights off. We threw a couple of rice bowls in the microwave for supper, made about five pounds of popcorn and played video games together until my hands stopped shaking, then watched the satellite feed from the States -- Mokuba loves those old sitcoms, I'm not sure why. He fell asleep on the couch next to me and I carried him up to bed around 11 o'clock. He'll be cranky at school tomorrow, but I didn't have the heart to insist.
Yes, I have a heart, though God knows I've been called heartless often enough. I believe at the moment the prevailing opinion amongst the Yuugi-tachi is that I'm some kind of artificial construct with a computer program that mimics the thought process. Maybe they're right.
Maybe I'm the monster.
I spent the night in Mokuba's room; I didn't want to be alone. I listened to the clock in the hall chime away the quarter hours: eleven, eleven-fifteen, eleven thirty... I must have dozed off for a bit, because I remember having an odd dream. Something about a scales, with a handful of cards on one side and a feather on the other, and somehow they balanced. Even though the cards should have been heavier, it made sense because they were really souls...
I woke with a shudder, hearing the hall clock chiming again. Midnight? Mokuba was still asleep, even though I'd thought I heard him call my name. Maybe it was part of the dream, because it didn't quite sound like his voice. I got to my feet quietly, so as not to disturb him, and made my way to the bedroom window. No moon tonight, but I could still see the lawn and the driveway below from the window seat.
I believe in science, not magic. And yet, as much as I scoff and mock in public, I can no longer deny the existence and the power of the so-called Sennen Items and the God-Cards. Too many things happened during Battle City and the Finals that couldn't be explained away as holographic malfunctions, hypnosis or mass hysteria. That doesn't mean I buy into all the Destiny-Save the World crap Ishtar and Mutou were spouting throughout Battle City, that just because an Egyptian pharaoh and a priest dueled three thousand years agoMutou Yuugiand I are pre-destined to repeat history.
You were part of that mess, Bakura. But was it by choice, or were you brainwashed by that psycho Marik like Jounouchi was on the docks earlier? The false Marik implied so, and Yuugi was reluctant to hurt you by using the God-Card against your life points. I had to threaten him with disqualification... I'm not proud of that, either.
Those scars. Were they Marik's doing, too? Damn it, I knew I should have had the lot of them prosecuted! My lawyers could have come up with something to charge them with...
Why do I care?
You may have given up Duel Monsters but you're still a Duelist. Every insult I threw at you, you countered and neatly turned against me. But you stayed in Defense Mode until I backed you into a corner. One moment I'm baiting what is probably the mildest-tempered member of the -tachi (aside from Yuugi, and maybe the Mutt's little sister), and the next you're laying down Duel conditions, your eyes are flashing amber fury and suddenly I'm on the ground in a pile of brambles...
My God, Bakura! You thought I was serious! Was that when things went spinning out of control?
Control. That's what it always boils down to. I couldn't control Gozaburo but I could control my reactions, my responses to his actions. And eventually I discovered how to use that to keep Mokuba safe. Every action has an opposite and equal reaction; I learned that lesson well. And I learned to predict and how to manipulate other people's reactions. If I could provoke you to anger, to violence, what else could I goad you into? If I could force you to react in fear, in desperation ... to get what I really wanted. Not what you obviously thought; that was just the means to my end.
Aren't you proud of me, 'father'? I'm not.
I never learned how to 'pull my punches'. Go for the throat, grind your foe into the dirt; that's what Gozaburo taught me. No mercy. Losers deserve to be crushed, to be humiliated, to be destroyed. To lose is to die.
Why am I still alive, then?
Because of Mokuba. He still needs me.
But does he really? I can't protect him; I can't keep him safe, no matter how hard I try. I couldn't save him from Pegasus; I almost lost him to that damned AI program pretending to be our stepbrother Noa. And when I got caught in that Virtual Reality game, Mokuba went to Yuugi-tachi for help. To his friends. And if something - permanent - ever happens to me, I know that they will take care him. Might even avenge me, if Mokuba asked them to.
Who are you, Bakura? The laughing wild-eyed maniac who Dueled Yuugi atop my Battle Ship? The quiet, polite, almost timid boy I vaguely remember from last year's classes? Are you somehow both? You said it yourself -- 'I don't like who I become when I Duel'; why didn't I listen? What kind of Duelist is afraid of winning?
Mokuba's window faces east; he loves the light in the morning. A morning that isn't too far away, if the paleness along the horizon is any indication. I've barely slept, because each time I close my eyes I see brown eyes and pale silver-white hair, and a burn shaped like a triangle inside a circle surrounded by other scars; some old, some mostly healed, others obviously still painful and raw.
'What you want is nothing I care to give.'
You should have sent me to the Shadow Realm when you had the chance.
'I will not make this easy for you.'
You challenged me, and you lost.
'Just do it, Kaiba. Get it over with.'
Game over, Bakura.
So why do I feel like I lost, too?
Because... I'm still alive. And tomorrow, or the next day or the day after that I will have to face you again, either at school or somewhere unexpected. And I will have to face the truth, that what I want has changed and that it's my own damn fault if I have no chance in Hell of achieving it now. So, I will do what I've always done -- pretend that I don't care.
' -- who did this?'
'What the hell do you care?'
I don't know.
God, what have I done?
Author's Notes Revised: What I'm doing is editing for consistancy in spelling, especially in the Japanese names, and correcting a few errors I made re: canon details.
Old A.N. : Poor Seto confused. So is MCG; it was hard getting this much out of the stiff-necked tight-lipped s.o.b. ! As far as I can figure, it was a combination of: (a) ' -tachi baiting' carried a little too far; (b) raw nerves left over from Battle City on both sides; (c) Seto's temper going postal after Ryou dumped him on his butt, and; (d) what sounds to me like more than a touch of self-destructive depression on Seto's part!
Reviewers from 'Breaking Strain', Chapter 3: Caleyndar, I apologize! I've misspelled your name twice now, gomen nasai! What did you think of Ch. 3? Fatalis Amore, your wish is my intent, mon capitán! Kekewey & Relinquished, thank you for your kind words! Since you both wondered pretty much the same thing -- it's common for abuse/assault victims to blame themselves for what happened; that's what's going on with Ryou, especially since he really has very few solid memories of Battle City! If the Spirit of the Ring did pull something nasty on Kaiba during BC, I don't know about it yet. As for Ryou being vengeful, I believe it's going to be more a matter of not putting up with any of Kaiba's sh-t than actively getting even -- tho' I do know Ryou will be messing with Seto's mind a bit, later on... Keh keh keh... Broken Music Box, you reviewed on 'Shadow', but since that story's more or less finished -- thank you so much for your kind words about my writing style! I think that most readers/reviews on ffiction tend to prefer SxJ or YxYY or RxYB for their Shonen Ai/Yaoi fixes. Hey, I read them too! So I can't throw stones.
Hugs, chocolate & plushies for Kekewey & Broken Music Box -- you put me on your Favorite Authors lists! WOW!
Mother CHOW Goddess --
"Stop calling me HATHOR, bratling! It was an honest typo..."
"I wanna be Daniel Jackson when I grow up! -- damn, too late; I AM grown up!"