A/N: I am amazed. Dumbfounded. And a whole lot of other stuff I can't spell. Because my ELEVEN YEAR OLD SISTER just read this to me. And she wrote it. Yes, I am proud. And inspired. Because she is a better writter then me. Un-be-liv-able! So enjoy, R&R, but be kind- take into account she's only ickle! Be warned- this fic should probably have a higer rating then the authour would be aloud to read due to certain suicidal CEOs...

Disclaimer: I don't own YGO, and now I don't own the fic either... (Sigh) When she's 13 and gets her own account- which she WILL (Glare)- It can go on there. But until then,enjoy my Squidge's first ever fic!

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Seto stared at the knife in his hand. He had tried so many times before, yet he had never made it. Why? He asked himself. It'll be over in seconds… And then, he always saw Mokuba. Seemingly urging him on with his eyes. That's why, He told himself. It won't be over for him. So, his wrist remained unscathed, his blood still in his body, urging him on, always. But what can I do for him? Protect him? His thoughts had never taken him this far before. But Mokuba was still at school. Urging him on… Protect him from yourself. Protect him from becoming like you. Protect him like you promised. The cold, sharp blade pressed down on Seto's wrist. There was a knock at Seto's door. Seto remained silent, turning his back to it. Press a bit harder…

"Seto!" Mokuba bounded into the room, but stopped dead as he saw the harsh glint of metal. "…What are you doing with that knife…?"

Urging him on…

"Never mind, I'm finished now. Good day?" Seto asked, hoping to distract Mokuba. For once, Mokuba wasn't having any of it. Lightning fast, he shot out and grabbed Seto's wrist. His eyes fell immediately on the deep red mark left from the pressure of the blade.

"Why…?" He asked quietly.

"I made a promise to protect you… even from myself."

"I don't need protecting from you!"

"Yes I do. If I were you, I'd hate to live with someone like me."

"I love it. We have fun, running Battle City and Duelling Yugi!"

"Yes, and lots of other things you don't need. What can I offer you that you actually have to have?"

"I need you!" Mokuba cried. Seto turned his gaze away.

"Yeah, right."

"I do! I need you, Seto! Not anything you do for me, you!"

Seto said nothing, but then picked up his knife. "And I need you." With that, he threw the blade out the window.

Urging him on, and on, and on, and on forever.

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A/N: See? SEE! Now no-one'll believe she's 11 because it's TOO GOOD and TOO DARK! But she IS! Okay, so I'm slightly concernered about her mental security, but... Ahem. R&R peeps!