A/N: I can't believe I have been writing this story for so long. Much love to all the readers! Thank you for your patience.

The structure of this chapter is a little weird—if anything is confusing please let me know and I'll do my best to correct it!

Title for this chapter comes from the song Jump Into the Fog by The Wombats

-xxx-

Between the day Gozaburo's entourage departed and the night that he and Mokuba were officially collected, Seto didn't sleep.

He had laid rigid in bed, head throbbing, eyes stinging, listening to the pounding of his pulse and every pinprick of silence. He had clawed at the edges of his bed, held his breath, kept his eyes peeled.

Each time he blinked he disappeared into immeasurable darkness.

It was a nightmare he had had before—quickening anger, flames erupting from his palms, taking a sword in his hands and running—ramming it right through some thick creature that quaked and cried out. Laughter breaking over his shoulders.

The dream had circled him for years, but there was something about Gozaburo—something about standing in his burly shadow and breathing his petrified air—that gave Seto's dormant nightmares the strength to pounce—to sink their teeth into the back of his neck.

And now Seto felt that he was being hunted. Or perhaps that he had been caught long ago.

Usually, adoption was a ceremony. All the children would assemble in the big bay windows at the front of the house, press their hands and noses against the glass while the staff waved and blew kisses.

Seto and Mokuba left through the back door, in the middle of the night, with black bags over their heads.

They were sealed up in a metal can and lashed together with vinyl and leather and fear, shipped like contraband. Mokuba clung to him—pulling the back of his shirt and tugging on his sleeve. Before they boarded the plane someone pulled them apart and then it was all cold, artificial air, tight corners, and groundless gliding motion that made Seto feel sick.

He didn't feel Mokuba again until they were shoved together in the backseat. He held Seto's hand and in the stillness that surrounded them Seto could hear someone fighting back tears.

He always cried in this dream. After he drew out his blade and seemed to leave a piercing emptiness behind. After he heard him gasp, and cry. It was like waking up at the bottom of a frozen lake—pounding at the sky, knowing there would never be any escape from what he had done.

The stench of salt water and diesel fuel faded into the countryside, and the road grew smooth. No more stop lights or honking cars, just silence—absolute and exhausting.

Eyes squeezed shut, blood oozing out from between his fingers. He never wanted to see again, not now that nothing could be undone. Now that he was sealed inside his own skin.

The car growled down the gravel driveway. Mokuba flinched when Seto gripped his hand until he could feel the bones grinding together. They stumbled down a narrow hall, led into a basement where the air was damp and rotten and the slamming of the door was explosive and absolute.

This was always when Seto tried to wake up. In those last few moments before he opened his eyes. In his few precious seconds of blind ignorance when he could pretend that things weren't as bad as they seemed, that there was still a chance that one of them might be saved.

They heard the door open, but there were no footsteps.

There was a strained, fragile cry. Seto clutched him against his chest with shaking arms.

There was a sharp, sardonic laugh. Seto could feel Mokuba trembling at his side.

Seto was screaming at himself to wake up. But this time he couldn't. He was locked here, tied to this moment, strangled by the strings of fate. He bit his lip, shook his head, tried not to hear it when he asked "Seth…why?"

"I don't know. I'm so sorry—I just don't know…"

Someone ripped the bag off his head. Seto flinched and squinted, scowled at the small, wiry boy shining a flashlight into his eyes. They glared at each other for several moments.

"Hmph," he snorted. "Father's certainly done better. You don't even look like me." His mouth twisted. "You don't look very smart, either—though I guess I'll have to see about that personally."

"What are you talking about." Seto tried to keep his voice firm and bitter, but the dream was still burning off and he felt as if he was floating somewhere outside of himself, as if he only existed in the parts of his body that the light touched and that the boy could see.

"Oh, so the little dog can bark after all!" The boy cackled. "You must not be totally useless then."

"Where are we!" Seto snarled, balling his hands into fists.

The boy laughed and rolled away slightly. That was the first time Seto noticed—he rolled. "Isn't it obvious, Seto? Seto, that is your name, isn't it? For now, anyway. This is your new home, and," he rolled around Seto in circles, smirking at him over his shoulder. "And I promise, it will be your last." He stopped for a moment, pinning Seto under his exacting gaze. "Father told me about you. I don't know how you did it—but I will figure out how you stole his title from him."

"I won it."

"Hah! As if a little stray dog like you could defeat my father." He wrinkled his nose, as if the idea emitted a foul odor. "I'm sure you think you're very special, coming all this way on your own. But allow me to be the first to tell you: you're not. Father's dragged a whole string of boys through here, and none of them have been able to measure up to me. You're delusional if you think you'll survive more than two weeks here."

"Survive…?" Mokuba whispered from Seto's side. "What is he talking about?"

"Who's there?!" The boy's head spun around until he caught of glimpse of Mokuba shrinking away into the shadows. His eyes blazed. "There's two of you?"

A door opened behind them and a pane of cold white light fell across the floor. Seto was able to get a good look at the boy for the first time. They must have been more or less the same age, and yet this boy was unusually small, as if his body had stopped growing while he was only half-formed. His face was fixed in a permanent sneer. From the waist up he was sharp, fierce, agile. But Seto's stomach turned as his gaze drifted down and he saw the boy's legs—thin and limp, hanging off the edge of his wheelchair.

"Father!" The boy cried. "Why are there two of them? And why—"

"That's enough, Noa." They felt Gozaburo's voice more than heard it. The way he spoke seemed to rip the air apart.

"Stupid rosuke—he doesn't even look like me!" Noa muttered under his breath. His eyes darted back to Seto, and for a moment they grew wide.

"That can be fixed, Noa. Now go back to your studies."

Noa bowed his head. "Yes, father." He turned his chair, but his eyes—narrowed into venomous slits— lingered on Seto for several moments until he rolled away. "Pathetic little dog," he spat. "You'll get exactly what's coming to you—just like every other stupid kid who's attempted to defeat me."

"Seto," Mokuba whispered. "W-what's going on? What does he mean you don't look like him?"

Seto shook his head. "I don't know, Mokuba."

-xxx-

Time moved strangely between them. When they were apart is was stretched thin, breathless and dilated to the point of breaking. As they approached one another each moment began to run into the next, until they were so close and each second so small that time turned to liquid and rushed over them like running water.

Jounouchi hunched his shoulders and scowled as he slunk from one strip of shadow to the next, trying to escape the attention of the hazmat and construction crews that crawled across the surface of the old factory and housing compound like flies, flickering in the sweltering haze. A part of him wanted to yell at them, to tell them off for trespassing in his home and picking it apart like carrion. But he shook his head and bit his tongue, and continued to shrink against the wall.

Kaiba, he imagined, didn't have to take these kinds of precautions. He could probably march through any door in Domino and no one would so much as raise their voice against him. But, Jounouchi thought, there was at least one door behind which Kaiba wasn't nearly so domineering—and he had the key. Jounouchi chuckled darkly to himself as he stepped through puddles and over chunks of crumbling plaster, feeling the earth rattle to the beat of a distant jackhammer.

Jounouchi crept up to the front door and slowly turned his key in the lock, a small smile flickering across his face. He could feel his heart pounding from his eardrums down to the soles of his feet.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. It took his lungs longer to adjust to the swampy air.

"You're late."

Jounouchi chuckled. "I didn't know we were on such a tight time schedule."

"I do have to be at work."

Jounouchi wiped his forehead and staggered forward, unsteady in the dusty light. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the silhouette of Kaiba perched on a barstool, arms and legs crossed, frowning. "You should take your coat off or something. It's so hot in here."

Seto flinched. "Everything in here is disgusting."

Jounouchi grinned and sauntered over to him, poking him in the chest. "You're gonna have to take it off eventually." Seto didn't look at him, but Jounouchi could make out the way his jaw moved as he struggled with the idea of speaking. "You know," he murmured, leaning closer until his lips were against Seto's ear, "I have places to be, too."

"No you don't."

"I do too! I've been studying eight hours a day! And trying to find a job! And—" his breath suddenly deflated. "I'm just really fucking tired right now."

Seto raised an eyebrow and leaned away slightly. "So why did you come?"

"I'm too nice to leave you sitting alone in the dark." He paused. He felt disoriented for a moment, as if time had begun to run on a loop and everything was cycling through him like dirty laundry. Perhaps it was because he had sat here, alone in the dark, so many times himself. He reached for Seto's hand and pressed it gently against his lips. "Besides," he continued. "I need a break every once in a while." He smiled against Seto's skin and enjoyed the way it made him shiver—even in the heat. "So," he added, voice slow and supple, "did you get all excited sitting here waiting for me?" He chuckled when Seto twisted his lips and didn't reply. "Aw, come on—you don't need to be embarrassed. I don't blame you—if I were you I would be pretty excited too. I mean, I am pretty hot."

"Hmph. Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm just stating the honest truth." He placed Seto's hand on his own chest, where the sweat made his shirt damp and thin. He smirked when he felt Seto's breath catch. "Who would have thought that you'd be so sensitive…"

"I'm not sensitive," Seto growled, wrenching his hand away and crossing his arms.

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

Seto examined Jounouchi out of the corner of his eye and chewed on the inside of his lip. "Really."

Jounouchi laughed in a way that sounded like sunlight dancing across water. "I mean it. It's kind of…endearing. But also a pain in the ass."

"Hn."

Jounouchi leaned into him again. Their skin was slick with sweat. Jounouchi plucked the loose fabric on the sleeves of Kaiba's coat, rubbed it between his fingers. During these moments Jounouchi felt like he could make Kaiba dissolve until his fingers, he could breathe him in like mist. "Tell me what you're thinking."

-xxx-

Seto scowled at his face in the mirror. "What are you going to do to me."

"A few simple cosmetic changes," a small bald man shuffled in circles around him, taking Seto's chin in his hand and slowly turning his face. "You'll scarcely notice the difference." He chuckled at the way Seto stiffened at his touch. "Don't be frightened, boy. It's not going to hurt."

Seto made a small sound of displeasure at the back of his throat and frowned. "I don't see what the point of this is."

Daimon released his face and leaned away, glanced again at the photo of Noa that he had tacked to the wall. "It's really quite simple. The legacy of the Kaiba name has always passed from the father to his oldest son. Noa-sama is Kaiba-sama's only child, so he will be the one to inherit Kaiba Corporation."

"What does that have to do with me."

"You are aware of Kaiba Corporation's international reputation?"

Seto twitched slightly on his stool. "More or less."

"So I'm sure you understand that, as a weapons manufacturer, it is vital that Kaiba Corp projects an image of austerity and strength in everything it does—from the products that it sells to—" he bit his lip. "To the people who present those products to the public."

"You think that no one will buy bombs from a kid in a wheelchair."

Daimon grimaced, and Seto saw a wisp of something vaguely resembling remorse steal across his face. "Noa-sama is a brilliant and audacious young man, and I'm sure that he will make a very effective leader of Kaiba Corp. But not everyone knows him as well as Kaiba-sama and I do." He hesitated. "It is not our client's way to take things slowly, or to make compromises. They need someone who they know they can trust immediately, someone that they know will defend their interests, someone who physically embodies the clout of the Kaiba family name-" he swallowed. "Someone who can stand."

Seto felt his stomach drop. "I see."

Daimon leaned so close that Seto could almost taste the staleness of his breath. "Of course it goes without saying that in the eyes of the public, you are Noa Kaiba. Any slip in that veneer, any reason to doubt that you are not Kaiba-sama's biological son and—" His face twisted. "You and your brother will be made to suffer immensely."

Seto stared back at him, unblinking. The secrecy with which they had been spirited from the orphanage was suddenly clear. He wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, how many people in the world knew that they were here—and how many would notice that they had disappeared. He held his face frozen and hoped that all the traces of fear had been ironed out of his voice when he replied.

"I understand."

Daimon gave him a broad, yellow-stained smile and ruffled his hair. "Kaiba-sama did say that you were quite intelligent. Now," he plucked Noa's picture off the wall and held it out in front of them. "Let's start with your hair, shall we? Your color is completely wrong. And," he poked the bridge of Seto's nose. "Those glasses will have to go. They put people off."

"But I can't see without my glasses."

Daimon brushed his concern aside. "We'll address that later." He unhooked the glasses from Seto's ears, and the world suddenly fell out of focus.

-xxx-

"What?"

"Tell me what you're thinking," Jounouchi repeated, smiling slyly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

Kaiba frowned and recoiled. "Why."

"Why? Because it's hot. I know you must have more going on up there than designs for duel disks." He hooked a finger under the collar of Seto's shirt. "Tell what you think about when you're here waiting for me."

"Mostly I wonder why you don't have an air conditioner."

"Hah. Well, you could have taken your coat off," Jounouchi purred. He stood and slowly slid Seto's coat off his shoulders. Seto watched it fall to the ground with a small grimace, though he didn't attempt to retrieve it.

Seto could feel the warm darkness in his voice simmering under his skin. He closed his eyes and breathed it in like hot embers, shuddering in the scathing wind that whipped through him.

Jounouchi's hands were in his hair, around his neck, pressing the air out of his chest. And he laughed softly, like bubbling liquid gold.

Seto was floating on the last square of light in the entire world. He was surrounded on all sides by an ocean of impenetrable darkness and one movement out of place would send him careening down below, into a world of swirling sea monsters and deep, unending fear. Each time Jounouchi pressed his lips against his neck or grasped his hips, his fingers slacked around the edges, his lungs flooded with briny water, the sea wrapped itself around him like a thousand angry arms and dragged him down below.

"So, uh," Seto coughed and leaned away. He smirked. "Do you know the story of Seth and Horus?"

Jounouchi paused and crinkled his brow. "Uh, no…?"

"No, I didn't think that you would." Seto sighed. "Ra was the first Egyptian god, and he foresaw that a child of the goddess would Nut overthrow him. He tried to prevent that from happening by putting a curse on her so that she would be unable to have children on any day in the year. Nut circumvented the curse by adding five new days to the year, and during those five days the gods Osiris, Horus the Elder, Seth, Isis, and Nephthys were born.

"The moment Osiris was born, everyone in Egypt recognized that he would be their greatest king. He did overthrow his father, then married Isis and became the ruler of the earth. Isis and Osiris taught the Egyptian people how to use the tides of the Nile to support agriculture. They made the world enlightened. Under their rule Egypt was peaceful.

"Seth hated Isis and Osiris. He was jealous of how much the people loved them, and he planned to kill Osiris and take his place. So Seth trapped Osiris inside a wooden crate and threw him into the Nile.

"Isis ran from Egypt in fear, taking her child Horus with her. She spent the rest of her life searching for the chest in which Osiris had died and trying to reconstruct his broken body.

"Horus was destined to avenge his father's slaughter by murdering Seth. They feuded for years, and Seth hated Horus the same way he had hated Osiris. Seth was the god of darkness and destruction—he hated everyone. He wanted to humiliate Horus so badly that he would become a social disgrace, so he tricked Horus into believing that he wanted to make amends—then he got Horus incredibly drunk and raped him. But Horus was more clever than Seth gave him credit for, and he caught Seth's semen in his hands and hid it. Then he took Seth's cum to Isis, who hid it on a piece of Egyptian lettuce that she tricked Seth into eating.

"Seth didn't know that he'd been tricked—so he went to the court to tell everyone how Horus had been disgraced. But when the court asked for proof, when they performed a spell to see where Seth's semen had gone, it came out of his own body."

Jounouchi was silent for several moments.

"Why the fuck would you tell me that?!"

Seto smirked and stood up straighter on his stool. "I thought you and your friends all had a massive hard-on for anything related to ancient Egypt."

"Ugh—no! Not like that. That's so—"

"It gets better. Horus eventually kills Seth by stabbing him in the head."

"Please don't tell me about it. Ever."

Seto shrugged. "You can't blame me for trying."

"Yes I can. I blame you very much for the horrible mental images you've put into my mind that I'm never going to be able to get out."

Seto rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad. What put you off? The fratricide?"

Jounouchi shook his head. "Let's stop talking about this. Let's just pretend that it never happened."

Seto's eyes suddenly became very dark, his face pale and sullen. "You do realize that that's what I've been trying to do for three fucking years."

Jounouchi laughed nervously. "W-What are you talking about?"

Seto's voice became harsh and narrow. "Do you think it's just a dumb coincidence that I was named after the first god of death and destruction? Hmph. Don't try to convince me of that now—not after you've spent the last three years jumping down my throat forcing me to accept something that I never wanted to be a part of." He snorted. "You were all so eager to become ancient Egyptians—none of you stopped to do the research, did you?" He grimaced at Jounouchi's blank expression. "Well," he seethed. "I did."

"I-I'm sorry," Jounouchi stuttered, reaching out his hand. Seto recoiled from him. "I never meant for you to feel that way. I never really knew—"

"You never knew what you were getting into."

"I-I guess."

"So," Seto's smirked—a pale, cold sliver of light among the shadows. "Are you afraid of me?"

Jounouchi laughed. "Please, Kaiba—you're not god." He continued to snicker silently. "But I'll tell you what—" he placed his hands on Kaiba's shoulders. "If it makes you feel better, we'll make a deal okay? You won't rape me and I won't stab you in the head." His smile flickered out when he noticed that Seto's face was still drawn and cold. "It'll be okay," he murmured, leaning closer until their legs began to stick together. "We'll write our own ending to the story."

-xxx-

In public he obediently appeared at Gozaburo's arm. He memorized Noa's incisive smile, learned to talk in his shrill, nasal voice and use his same proud, hard words. In time, he was grateful to have another name to wear during Gozaburo's sales pitches and speeches—it was easier to sell armaments as Noa Kaiba than it was as himself.

Gozaburo recruited professors from across the globe who filtered through the Kaiba manor to lecture in Japanese military history, world languages, and nuclear thermodynamics. They taught Seto during the day, and at night Seto descended into the library—where he taught Noa. No one from the outside was allowed to see them together.

Seto often felt that the Kaiba mansion had never been built—it had risen out of the Earth at the dawn of time. Every wall felt ancient and haunted, each room seemed to ache with exhaustion, a longing for the reprieve of nonexistence. Noa roared through that pervasive silence like a cannonball. He never seemed to stop thinking—his fingers were always twitching with restless anger, his smirk never faltered, at times Seto was certain that he never closed his eyes. Learning to live alongside him was like learning how to disarm a bomb. He struggled, sweated, never stopped looking over his shoulder or glancing at the clock.

And Noa never stopped snickering when Seto fell asleep at his desk. He watched with a detached grin as Seto slowly slid into his nightmares, began to scream at them, began to cower when they screamed back. He would lean back in his chair, steeple his fingers, and repeat, "I told you, Seto—you were never a match for me."

Mokuba and Noa were the only two people who still referred to Seto by his own name. Noa had a way of making it sound like an insult.

His only sanctuary was Mokuba's room. It was the only place he could still breathe and dream. They would lie on their stomachs side-by-side in the moonlight, pouring over their sketches and notebooks and speaking in pearlescent whispers. Seto tried to bottle up those moments so that he might have something cool and fresh to drink during his parched and desolate hours at Gozaburo's side. So that he could have something to stand on when he felt himself beginning to shrink and slip away.

"Seto, can you show me your designs again?" Mokuba whispered.

Seto rummaged through a pile of crumpled graph paper and laid a notebook out in front of them, and it was like the room had suddenly begun to expand and sparkle with light. Most of the technical specifications of the project escaped Mokuba's attention, but somehow, through the eraser marks and scribbles and smudges, he felt that he could catch a glimpse of something that stood apart from time and space. He loved to listen to Seto talk about his secret projects, the way his voice became bright, smooth, and soft. Time seemed to drain away, the only thing that was real was what they created together, and those creations would continue to stand long after he and Seto had withered away and disappeared. Mokuba barely heard the words that Seto said, but felt it like frost when he suddenly stopped.

"Seto, what—"

Seto held up a hand. "Sh. I think someone is listening." He narrowed his eyes and bit his lip. His face became cold.

"How every observant of you, Seto."

Seto jumped to his feet, fists balled and eyes flaring. "What are you doing here."

"Now, Seto, is that any way to talk to your dearest older brother?" Noa rolled out of the shadow. "Is it so wrong for me to want to enjoy your company?"

Seto grit his teeth. "You don't enjoy anything about me. Get out—before I make you."

Noa replied with a searing, mirthless laugh. "You wouldn't dare make me do anything, Seto. So long as you're in this house you're my father's property. And—" he barred his teeth. "As my father's heir, you essentially belong to me." His eyes drifted from Seto to Mokuba. "And I would hate to see you jeopardize your place here by doing something rash. That would be such an unsatisfactory conclusion for me."

Seto growled from the center of his chest. "What do you want."

"Give me your notebook."

"No."

Noa raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "No? That's not an acceptable response, Seto. Try again."

"You can't have it."

"Seto—do I have to remind you of how precarious your situation here is? I could have you and your mangy brother thrown out in an instant—or worse. Would you really risk that for some silly sketches?"

"It's not silly, it's—"

"Oh, I know." Noa's eyes lit up in a way that made Seto and Mokuba feel queasy. "That's why I want it. For Kaiba Corp—for me. So—what is it? Are you really going to make life so unnecessarily difficult for yourself?"

Mokuba forgot to breathe as he saw Seto quiver in the darkness. Seto had always been good at keeping his face distant and passive—Mokuba was sure he was the only one he could see the way his lower lip trembled. When he spoke again his voice was fluid and formless.

"But it's mine—I don't want—I don't want it turned into weapons." His hands were visibly shaking now, his eyes stinging.

"Seto," Noa's voice became maliciously sweet. "Is this really the time to make an abstract moral point? Now—when I've found you out of bed after dark, when I could crush the lives of you and your little brother between my fingers without a second thought? Is this the fight you would have make you a martyr, and Mokuba a hapless victim? Think about that, Seto."

Seto seemed to look everywhere in the room but Noa. For a moment his eyes fell on Mokuba, and Mokuba felt a weight there that would never truly leave him. Seto swallowed and sighed. He stepped forward into the darkness, and extended his hand. "Take it."

Noa snatched the notebook out of Seto's hands and furrowed his brow in disgust. "Ugh—you don't need to cry about it." He tucked the notebook under his arm and slid back into shadow, leaving Seto and Mokuba submerged in a deeper darkness than either of them could remember.

-xxx-

"It's always like the first time with you," Jounouchi muttered, rubbing Seto's shoulders. "Are you ever going to learn how to relax around me?"

Seto clenched his jaw. "Saying it that way doesn't make it any easier." His voice burned.

"Yeah I'm sorry I guess that's true." He kissed the base of Seto's neck. "I was trying earlier," he added. "You kind of killed the moment—so that one's on you."

"Hn. Whatever." Seto tried to keep from grimacing as Jounouchi leaned against his chest. He closed his eyes, tried to focus on the way Jounouchi always smelled like earth and the back of a spice cabinet—even when he was filthy and sweating. He bit his lip. "Do you—have any suggestions?" He winced at the strained tone of his voice.

"For what?"

"For how to—handle this."

Jounouchi smiled at him in a way that made Seto think that he was the first person to ever do it properly. It was completely fearless, as if no pain had ever touched him.

Jounouchi reached up and brushed the hair away from his eyes. "I have a lot."

"Well?"

"Well," Jounouchi furrowed his brow. "I think whatever's going on in your head is holding you back. You have to let that stuff go—whatever it is that's making you so tense." He leaned in slightly closer when Seto didn't reply. "You do want to able to, don't you? I mean like—"

"I know what you mean!" Seto snarled, balling his fists.

"So you've got to try! Just let go a little."

Seto bit his lip and didn't look at him. "And then what will I have to hold onto?"

Jounouchi smiled. "Well, me, for one. You don't seem to have a problem doing that most of the time."

"Whatever."

Jounouchi laughed. "Hey, like I said earlier—it's endearing." He covered Seto's mouth with a sloppy kiss. Seto could feel Jounouchi's heart pounding against his chest. In these moments, with their skin so close and their lips locked together, he couldn't believe that Jounouchi was mere flesh and blood—made from the same fallible parts that he was. Jounouchi felt like a surge of wind, a solar flare or a meteorite. He ripped through everything and made it look heroic and charming.

Even when they were closest—when their skin began to melt together and their breath came at the same ragged pace, Jounouchi seemed to float above him, to move with a force that could never be contained within just one person. He always seemed to be running, to be racing towards something that he was convinced would slip out of his grasp forever, until—at the last possible moment—he seized it in his fist, kicked over a mountain. And Seto would feel the residual lightness fluttering inside him for several hours afterward—until Jounouchi's cum slid out of him in the middle of a meeting and he had to sit there grimacing in silence for the next thirty-five minutes.

"Tell me if it's working," Jounouchi muttered against his ear. "I really want to make you come."

Seto stabbed his fingers into his back, not content to stop until he could feel Jounouchi wince slightly.

He had planned to reply, but with a brutal thrust he lost his words in a wave of pale fog. He was stripped of his direction, his grip on time, his balance. His name faded away. The architecture of his memories crumbled into ruin.

He didn't feel the frantic convulsions in his body—he shuddered the same way the earth shuddered when it was broken and drilled apart. He lied dormant like the vacant coast. In a strange, inverted moment, he was a spider web and a clock and shattered glass, and, at last, absolutely nothing at all—nothing compared to the shadow that loomed over him like a solar eclipse, nothing compared to the ancient enormity the feelings that rattled his soul.

When he resurfaced there were tears in his eyes, but he couldn't remember crying.

-xxx-

"Are you ever going to stop sulking, Seto?"

Seto flinched but didn't turn away from his work. "Give me my designs back."

Noa shrugged and replied with airy indifference. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I've turned them over to father—they belong to Kaiba Corp now."

Seto frowned but didn't speak. He continued typing—pounding harder on the keys.

"I've done you a favor, you know."

"Hmph. Explain how."

Noa rolled his eyes. "You thought you were quite tough before you came here, didn't you? I'm sure you have some tragic backstory about how you lost your parents and all your other family rejected you—not that I would blame them—so it was just you and Mokuba, together and alone against the whole rest of the world?" He smirked when Seto glared at him out of the corner of his eye but didn't respond. "Well let me tell you, Seto—you know nothing about true suffering."

"And you do?" Seto scoffed.

"Yes." Noa's voice became dark, hard, and unbalanced. "Seto, have you ever killed someone?"

The question sizzled between them like static electricity for several moments.

"I have," Noa continued. "It's not something that most people would enjoy."

"But I'm sure you got a kick out of it."

"Seto, I—" He rolled closer, and glanced furtively around the room. "There's something about your life here that you haven't learned to appreciate yet, so allow me the one to enlighten you: there isn't room here for the both of us, especially since you insisted on brining someone else with you."

Seto frowned. "You sound ridiculous. Leave me alone, I'm trying to work." Seto tried to turn back to the computer, but Noa seized his arm.

"Listen to me! Do you honestly believe that my father would plan to keep two sons when all he needs is one?" He pulled on Seto's arm frantically. "He isn't kind! He doesn't make those kinds of allowances!"

Noa's face was contorted, his eyes wide and shining. Seto frowned. "So why am I here?"

"Why do you think?!" Noa snarled, throwing Seto's arm back at him. "To challenge me! So that I can have someone of my own caliber to compete with and destroy!" He paused, and when he spoke again his voice rattled at the edges. "You're not the first Seto. Father's brought many boys through here already, and I've seen them all go. They all get taken away. They were never good enough—they couldn't compete with me—none of them!" He paused, took a breath, then began to speak with more composure. "It's about time you learned this lesson: everything is a weapon here. Even your stupid little hologram designs. That's the way it's going to be between us, Seto. Because I can tell, Seto—I could tell from the very first moment that I laid eyes on you—that one of us will be the last."

-xxx-

"Hey," Jounouchi poked him the back. "Are you okay? I hate to be that guy, but don't you have to go back to work? It's been like an hour."

Seto pulled the sheet on Jounouchi's bed tighter up under his chin. "Go away."

"Didn't you like it?"

"No."

Jounouchi sighed and shifted in bed. "I don't want to leave you alone here."

"Tch. I arrived alone."

"I know, but—" Jounouchi ran a cautious finger along his shoulder blade, traced the ridges of his spine. "You just seem kind of out of it."

Seto clenched his eyes shut. His head was pounding. He felt like rotten land—stripped, plowed, and wasted. Each breath flailed in his ribcage like a drowning fish.

"I'm fine."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a terrible liar?"

Seto frowned. "I'm an excellent liar."

Jounouchi snorted. "I guess that's a matter of perception." He stared at the ceiling, at the dust and dirt that swirled in the air around them. "Do you want to go for a walk or something? This place is going to give me cancer I swear."

Seto never replied, but drifted out the door after like a shadow.

Outside the sky was bleached white and blistering. A thick blanket of sea fog had crept up the coast line and swallowed almost the entire compound. They didn't speak as they trudged through the drift and debris, and sometimes they lost sight of one another in the mist. Jounouchi knew Seto only by the way he would wrench his wrist when he was about to stumble and fall.

Jounouchi didn't speak again until he was sitting on the edge of Domino Peer, squinting hard to see where the sky began to eat through the horizon. "Man, I really hate that place." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Too many bad memories."

Seto watched him out of the corner of his eye. "Like what."

"Oh…" Jounouchi picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. "It's hard to remember any one thing. My parents were always fighting. I was always fighting—with everyone. I guess I just thought that was the only way I could get anyone to listen to me, speaking with my fists like that. And it's not like I had anything to lose." He stared at his hands and slowly opened and closed his fist, as if he could still feel the sting in his knuckles. "I just wanted someone to listen to me, to take me seriously. And when no did I stopped taking myself seriously. I became what everyone expected to be, and I tried not to think about how much I hated myself for it. I told myself that I was doing what I had to do to stay alive, and the way I was living was the only way I could be."

His voice began to waver. "Shizuka was the only one I had—she believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. She kept me alive, just because I knew she'd be crushed if anything happened to me. And I thought, if this girl who's so smart and so sweet can love me so much—I can't be totally worthless, can I?

"She's always loved people more than they deserve, had more faith in people, too." He laughed in a way that sounded more like a growl. "Even right now, she's staying with me and Yuugi because she's got this hope that our mom will come back and our parents will fall in love or something." He shrugged.

"I thought that you said that anything was possible."

"Ha, I guess I did say that, didn't I?" He bit his lip. "The thing is, I think they do love each other. But they hate each other too. And, I don't know—I just don't think it's possible to love someone and resent them at the same time. Maybe you can make it work for a little while, but at some point one of those feelings is going to be stronger, and at that point there's really nothing you can do."

Seto a little of that brutal emptiness seep into him again. For a moment, starring at Jounouchi's profile, he couldn't tell which one of them was speaking.

-xxx-

"That's ridiculous."

Noa scoffed. "It's simple fact." He was pulling away, straightening his clothes, and speaking in cool, clipped phrases—trying to erase the memory of his outburst. "And there's nothing you can do to change it. That is what makes sense, isn't it? Father's terrified that someone is going to find out about you and then it will be all over for him. No one would accept his as president if they found out that he can't—" his voice burned with bitterness. "Produce viable offspring. Keeping two versions of the same person around is too much of a liability for him to maintain that state permanently. And," his voice caught for a moment. "Once my would-be replacements have demonstrated their complete lack of competency, it's far too dangerous to let them live."

"So, that means—"

"That you've led you and your brother into a death trap, yes." Noa flashed a harsh, ironic smile. "How does that feel, Seto?"

Seto starred at his hands, at the computer screen and his workbook, without really seeing anything. Everything suddenly seemed dull and gray, painted in shades of decay. "And you're just going to accept that? That people are just going to die for you?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Fight him! Don't let him keep you locked up like this!" Seto pounded his fist on the table. "Don't you see that I'm not the person you should be fighting? I never agreed to this! Fight him—he's the one that's putting you in this situation!"

"Seto, keep your voice down! Don't you know that they can hear us?"

"I don't care—"

"You should," Noa interrupted him severely. "I would care very much if I were you."

"I'm not afraid of him."

Noa raised his eyebrows. "Then you don't know what he's capable of. It's funny that you expect so much sympathy from an arms dealer. I'm certain that father stopped being human many years ago. He's not like you, Seto. He's not so—" Noa made a face of displeasure. "Idealistic. Or emotional. The only things he sees in people are what he can use to destroy them."

"I'm not emotional."

Noa snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You mean to tell me you're so stoic and cool when you go sneaking off to see your brother every chance you get? When you get so worked up overdragons and fantasy stories—all that ancient Egyptian nonsense? Yes, Seto I do know about that—there are recording devices in almost every room here. Honestly I get embarrassed on your behalf just watching you exist. Seto, please—don't lie to yourself—you're weak. If you want to defeat my father you're going to have to learn to think like him—and that means no room for—" he gestured vaguely. "Whatever it is that you call yourself."

Seto bit his lip. "Why are you telling me this?"

Noa frowned and looked away. It was several moments before he replied and it was the first time—Seto thought—he had been truly hesitant to speak. When he continued it was without his usual spite. "I didn't sign up for this either, Seto. But I want to cut you down when you're in your prime. There's no point in beating someone who's too soft to fight back."