A/N: For the YGO Fanfiction Contest Season 13 Round 1. The pairing: Rivalshipping (Seto Kaiba x Yuugi Mutou). Once upon a (time) Season 11 there was a zombie Apocalypse AU. This continuation was inspired by Tom Crosshill's short story "The Zombie of His Early Days" – which you can read on FlashFictionOnline. (...or you can check out his homepage and browse through his other short stories – they're great; I highly recommend.) According to the author's commentary on said story, he got the idea while pondering all the odd things that can cause nostalgia – and if you were to grow up in a world where zombies were a part of life, wouldn't you feel nostalgic once all of them were gone?

Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi and all associated companies are the rightful owners of the Yuugiou! franchise and I claim no association with any of them. No copyright infringement intended with this and no money is being made from this. Please support the creator by purchasing the official releases.

Warnings: some gore and violence. And funny spelling errors.

All the perfect moments are wrong

All the precious pieces are gone

Everything That Mattered

is just

A City of Dust

(Covering Both of Us)

- Through the Ghost by Shinedown

The international duelling tournament is set to go off without a hitch and Seto Kaiba is pleased with his work. The new stadium is perfect and has become the talk of all the news networks all over the world – and it has been available to a select few press crews for less than one full day. And tonight is bound to overshadow that with the new duelling systems and the diversity of the special holographic effects his team has worked on for months to implement into the gameplay to make it even more engaging and realistic. All invited guests are accounted for; all the duellists are already within the premises of the stadium – at least those who do not have an autograph panel to sit through – and all the spectators who haven't had the foresight to purchase the tickets beforehand are lining up at the ticket booths beside the four entrances. Those who have gotten their tickets in advance are either still wandering around the different duellist panels, treating themselves to some pre-tournament snacks, or have already taken their seats within the stadium.

With more than an hour to spare before the opening ceremony, Kaiba finally steps away from the control room, leaving his team and Mokuba to oversee everything. He needs a break. A breath of fresh air. A moment of solitude to quietly revel in his latest and greatest accomplishment. He goes to fetch himself a cup of coffee from the vending machine down the hall; it's a mundane little thing he only rarely allows himself to do.

It's around this time when the first gunshots shatter the buzz of excitement outside the stadium. Some people look around for the fireworks; some haven't even heard the sound, while those who've been within close proximity of the source scatter like scared mice. KaibaCorp security guards move in from the perimeter to accost the man with the firearm only to be mowed down without mercy.

Presently, Seto Kaiba is oblivious to all this. He has exactly one minute to enjoy his steaming hot cup of unsweetened beverage before Mokuba bursts out of the control room, Isono trailing after him and shouting cautionary advice.

"Big Bro! Malik! He's got a gun!"

For a moment those words make absolutely no sense to him. Mokuba is saying something more, but he can't quite make out the words; it's all a rushed jumble. Isono's dry and professional tone hammers the truth in. Malik Ishtar. Has opened fire near the east entrance. Panic and chaos has swept over the eastern area. It hasn't spread inside the stadium yet. People have fled. People are still fleeing. People are injured. Authorities and ambulance has been called. Number of casualties is rising. The culprit has fled the scene. He appears to have a hostage.

Harsh, destructive words in a matter of seconds demolish everything he's worked so hard to achieve all these years. He almost throws away the half-empty cup, but before his arm catches up with him, his reflexes have already clenched his fist, splattering coffee onto his impeccably white suit, leaving a stain and a splatter pattern that is almost art. Nobody seems to notice it even though, when he storms back into the control room, all eyes are on him. There is a deathly hush that even the buzz of electronics can't break through.

"Details," he barks from the doorstep. His fist clenches tighter and leftover coffee slowly drips from the cup onto the floor, tracing his path towards the front of the room and the main monitor. One of his workers is quick to pull up the necessary security footage, and he watches in mortification as the events unfold and spin out of control. It seems unreal; almost like a movie.

He feels detached as he watches Malik strut up to the east entrance. Watches him linger nearby it, as if waiting for someone. Picking out his targets, Kaiba realises and his fist clenches even tighter. Out of the corner of his eye he spots the first flickering blue lights of paramedics and police, but he has no attention to spare for them. Not yet. He's watching how Malik makes the first kill. The, apparently, fallen man's friend freezes in astonishment before throwing himself bodily at the killer and joins his comrade on the ground after barely taking two steps in the gunman's direction. Two more people rush the young Egyptian man with the same results before he changes his tactics, sprints across to some girl, pulls her aside where that particular camera can't reach, then quickly returns within view as KaibaCorp's security guard enters the scene. Something distracts the guard and he turns his attention away from the obvious threat in front of him. Instead...

Instead, after a brief flicker, the video switches to footage from a different camera. From a brand new angle he watches the girl Malik pulled aside holding up and then firing the gun. She takes it slow, takes her time with it. She makes several shots before the man collapses. Before his body hits the ground, Malik is beside the girl again. He grabs her arm and drags her away from the scene and out of the reach of all the cameras.

Kaiba is shaking. He doesn't even know this. It's only a light tremor that others don't notice unless they know to look for it. He grinds his teeth together so tight he feels they might shatter. A part of him wishes they would.

"ID her."

A mad scramble through all available footage from the area and a minute later a grainy picture fills the screen. Half a minute more, and the image clears enough to be recognisable. His crew doesn't need to run her photo through any systems. He already knows her.

"Anzu..." Mokuba's stunned whisper snaps him back to life – and to action. Before he can give any orders, another worker pipes up.

"Sir, there's another incident."

"What now?" Kaiba snaps irritably as new footage fills the screen in front of the room.

'An incident' doesn't really begin to cover it. The video is from one of the cameras poised above the duellists' panel. An apparently overzealous fan launches himself at Yuugi Mutou, grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him halfway across the table he's sitting at while agitatedly shouting something. It takes a moment for other fans to intervene and pull him off their idol. Yuugi falls back into his chair and remains there, either too shocked or too dazed to do anything. There is a commotion that looks like it could go either way with the attacker struggling quite vigorously against the hold, but just as it seems to be settling down, somebody punches him in the face. From there on, it's a free for all and even the security arriving to the scene somewhat belatedly end up being pulled into it. Somebody crashes into the table which Yuugi is still sitting behind, toppling it over and pinning the King of Games halfway under it and remains there motionless.

This isn't the only brawl in or near the stadium that night, as Kaiba is informed before he's even seen the entire footage of this one.

This means more police cars, more paramedics.

Kaiba feels like breaking something. His intended moment of triumph is slowly descending into a nightmare. It's hard to breathe. It feels like the world has receded, leaving him trapped inside a glass jar where all the sounds oddly echo. He feels like he's making decisions in vacuum. More than anything right now he wants to lean down and dig his fists into the hard surface of the closest table just to feel the pain and assert the reality, but he resists that urge in favour of remaining upright and snapping orders the way his employees expect him to. He can't disappoint. He's been taught not to.

"I'm cancelling this tournament until further notice. Begin the evacuation of the entire perimeter." Hard, level words that feel like they are draining his life away. He has spent his life taking control and he does it now as easily as breathing. He already has approximated the damage – both physical and financial – and has a clear action plan in place.

"Big bro..." Mokuba starts to say something, but doesn't know how to finish. His brother has an odd expression on his face which he's never seen before. So instead, he volunteers to head down to the stadium and make the official announcement. Isono follows him out, calling in extra security guards as he goes to attend him and ensure maximum safety.

"Get ready for a press release," he commands, addressing no one in particular. He knows that the order will be carried out promptly.

It's only then that one of the technicians in the room clears her throat.

"Sir? Your suit."

He frowns at her before glancing down and for the first time sees the coffee stain on his clothes and the crushed remains of the empty plastic cup he's still clutching in his fist. He doesn't have a change of clothes on hand. He almost shrugs.

"I'll be sitting."

One of the tables is cleared of all devices and moved over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and Kaiba sits behind it, his shoulders almost touching the glass when he leans back in the chair. While Mokuba informs the crowd below, he tells the wider world that the tournament is on a temporary hold, stressing that, in the case of it being cancelled, everybody who has kept the tickets or the transaction receipts will be fully reimbursed. He makes no comments on the situation, gives no reasons, offers no explanations, though he is certain the people at home and in front of their TV screens are hungry for details.

As soon as he is done and the video is sent to all media groups which had gained the exclusive rights to film the tournament live, he requests an update on Yuugi, but nothing certain is yet known. He turns his attention to more pressing matters instead.

Mokuba's announcement has caused more sporadic and increasingly violent outbursts amid those already seated at the stadium and those still lined up at the ticket booths. Isono ushers him away to safety, closely flanked by the extra guards called upon by him. The younger Kaiba returns to the control room noticeably upset.

"It's terrible," he complains and there is an unhappy wrinkle between his eyebrows. "I've never seen... Seto, you should've seen how some of them reacted. They started fighting!" He throws his arms up in frustration. "Actual fist fights instead of, well, you know."

It's true: bigger and smaller clashes are nothing new in the duellist world, though it is quite rare to have them resort to fists instead of cards as a means of resolving matters. Moreover, it's the first time when it happens on such a large scale.

Both brothers stay and oversee the process of evacuation and shutting down the stadium from the safety of the control room. They are among the last ones to leave.

It's only now that Kaiba acknowledges the pain in his thigh and how hard it is to walk when the fabric is chafing against the blistered skin underneath. Getting into the car feels like borderline torture and during the long ride home he comes very close to howling. The way his pants press and pull at the damaged skin is unbearable. He's surprised he's managed to ignore the pain for as long as he had. Of course, now that the most pressing crisis has been averted, his mind is relatively free to wander anywhere and notice anything. He tries to preoccupy it elsewise as a distraction.

"Malik must be behind this."

His words startle Mokuba, who has been gloomily mulling over the day's events.

"You think, Seto?" There is doubt in his voice.

Truth is, he still doesn't know how to feel about the camera footage he saw of Anzu shooting one of their guards. He hopes that it was only a mistake; that she was actually aiming at Malik – who, in turn, must have lost his mind, considering the change he'd seen in him during their Egypt adventure – but had been too shocked by the situation to aim right. 'Does she even know how to fire a gun?' he ponders the sudden stray thought that flickers across his mind. He hopes it's all a terrible misunderstanding and a huge mistake. Maybe they'll wake up in the morning and all of this will turn out to be just a nightmare.

Kaiba heaves a sigh, telling himself that his reasoning is solid.

"He tried to sabotage Battle City. When it didn't work, he must have waited for another opportunity and chose to take it now. It was perfect – maximum worldwide coverage, maximum attention."

Mokuba isn't entirely convinced, though he is baffled at the unprecedented reaction of the spectators. He remembers Yuugi telling them about Malik's ability to mind-control people, which would explain it and wouldn't make his brother's claim all that farfetched, but he isn't in the mood to pursue this scenario – or, indeed, any other.

He doesn't really have anything to add to the conversation and the rest of the ride home passes in silence.

But the city is far from being silent. A tremor like the waves from a rock thrown into a lake spreads through the citizens of Domino. An unusual urge for violence sweeps over it, infecting people from all paths of life. The city does not sleep easy that night. The flickering lights and the howl of sirens every now and again slices through the usual nightly lull more frequently than is normal even for a city this large.

Back at home, Kaiba can finally breathe a little easier. He undresses as carefully as he can not to cause more pain for himself and inspects the blister taking up a good portion of his thigh. It's uneven and ugly, and it swishes nauseatingly every time he makes a sharper move. Opting to burst it, he makes his way to the bathroom where he carefully cuts into it and slowly squeezes out the transparent liquid, dabbing at everything that trickles out with a bathroom towel. Having made certain that all of the colourless plasma is gone, he tries to smoothen out the damaged skin, but it bunches around the edges, having been stretched too far. Giving up on what is clearly a futile effort, he leaves the room and retires for the night.

The pain slowly dulls to a light ache, but it's not what keeps him awake for hours. It's his mind that just won't settle. Ever since that trip to Egypt, Yuugi has been different. He's been... less, somehow, and it seems that he, Kaiba, is the only one who has noticed it. For the rest of the world – even his little brother – nothing seems amiss. True, Yuugi's passion for the game is still there, still the same, but the drive is gone. The look in his eyes has changed. The attitude has shifted from the previous cocksure certainty to a not-quite quiet confidence. He's more into having fun on the duelling field than ever before and it feels... wrong for Kaiba.

He doesn't know what to make of it. Even more maddening is everybody else's lack of acknowledgement of the fact that something's not quite the same with their King of Games. He has been hesitant to challenge Yuugi ever since that insane trip. For some reason, he feels like it simply won't be the same. Even if he wins, he isn't sure he'll feel the way he should – the way he would have if he'd challenged him and won before that trip. He has a fleeting, nagging feeling that the sense of gratification, of accomplishment just won't be the same, won't be as strong as it should be.

It's with those odd and almost uneasy thoughts that he eventually drifts off to sleep.

The next morning when Domino city awakens it finds itself changed. The crime rate has drastically escalated – an unprecedented thing in decades – and majority of those cases consist of assault and murder. The hospitals are nearing their limits while the detainment cells are already overflowing and the law enforcers are forced to improvise with places they keep the culprits. They are forced to turn a blind eye to the fact that those within one cell get at each other's throats in a matter of seconds and most of those scenes are a bloody mess. Help has been called from the surrounding cities, but it has been declined for much the same reasons Domino is requesting them.

Kaiba tracks down the hospital which Yuugi was taken to the previous night. It's almost the first thing he does that day. From his foray into hospital files, as well as calling in a favour or two that certain doctors and nurses owe him and his company, he learns that his rival has suffered three broken ribs, some no longer life-threatening inner bleeding, and a heavy concussion. Currently, his condition is considered stable and shouldn't be a cause for worry.

There are plenty of other things to worry about, anyway.

As the day wears on, the epidemic of violence swells into proportion. Even his company has missing employees that have vanished without notice and cannot be reached at their homes. He makes one more public announcement, cancelling the tournament altogether. The number of people who actually apply for the reimbursement of their tickets is surprisingly small – which is somewhat of a relief for KaibaCorp's financial standing, albeit an uneasy one.

The following day, more than half of KaibaCorp's employees are absent. During the day, fights break out between those who did come in for work, and all the culprits are forcefully removed from the company's grounds.

Around midday he learns that Yuugi has become violent towards the hospital staff and has escaped the hospital along with a group of similarly afflicted patients. He hastily arranges a team to apprehend him at the only location he can think of – Kame Game shop. He isn't wrong and his men find the King of Games there. He hasn't even changed out of his hospital garb. And even the most weathered men dare not name the things he is doing to the corpse of his own grandfather. There is no way to tell whether the old man perished before or after his grandson's arrival, though the wreckage that is the game shop would be more fitting for a stampeding mob of raving lunatics rather than being the handiwork of a single person.

As soon as Yuugi notices their presence, he rises from the mangled remains of his grandfather and launches himself at the trespassers like a rabid animal. Since tranquilisers don't work on his kind anymore and all the common methods for neutralising an opponent are effective only in the short term, it's quite the problematic situation. Subduing him takes considerable effort, and two men suffer painful bites in the process. Eventually, they knock him out, handcuff his wrists and ankles, and toss him into the van to deliver to KaibaCorp where they lock him into one of the simulation rooms as instructed. They caution their boss against removing the handcuffs, but he remains firm on that point since he isn't planning on letting him out of that room anytime soon and certainly not before determining whether he poses a threat or not.

Currently there is a large impregnated glass panel between Kaiba and Yuugi, and it seems the latter hasn't yet realised that he's no longer alone. The moment he does, though, he rushes forward, showing surprising mobility for someone in his condition.

"Kaiba!" Yuugi's voice has the usual slightly surprised tone, now mixed with a hint of confusion and accusation. "What is the meaning of this?"

That stuns Kaiba. He can't think of a reply, having been ready to see a frothing, raging mess of a human being the likes of which he's seen a thousand times over on all the newscasts; the likes of which his men had described to him when talking about his rival. Instead, he sees the usual, very sane, very courteous, and balanced Yuugi. He is taken aback by the lack of consistency between what he's been told and what he sees with his own eyes.

"Why have you brought me here? Where is my Grandpa? If you've done something to him again..." He moves a few steps closer to the glass separating them.

The same coherent speech patterns, the same wide eyes, the same concerned expression. For a moment Kaiba can't focus on his words. He feels confused. Has there been a mistake? He stares at his rival without actually seeing him and the patterns of blood and grime on his frayed hospital garb blurs.

"Kaiba! Answer me!" Yuugi clenches his fists. He's shaking slightly now.

Kaiba watches his face contort in anger at that demand, but it's not as extreme as he has expected. It's odd. It's wrong. It's impossible. There has to be some kind of a mistake.

But there isn't. Can't be. The bloodstains on his rival's clothing and his skin tell a harsh story that contradicts everything he's seeing right now.

"Kaiba! Are you even listening to me?"

"Your grandfather is dead," he says at length to his frazzled rival instead of a proper answer to his question. He is waiting for a reaction, a confirmation. He wants to know which one is the truth.

Yuugi pales. "No. No..." There's a spark of anger in his eyes and his fists tighten even more. "What have you-"

He doesn't let him finish the accusation. "Nothing. You did. You beat him to death." He doesn't know this for sure, but it doesn't really matter. The somewhat edited story he got from his men was eloquent enough.

Yuugi staggers a few steps back as if he'd been physically hit by those words. His fists loosen and he slowly shakes his head in utter disbelief. He appears to be at a loss.

"That's... That's not... That can't be!" His voice fades out into a whisper.

Kaiba doesn't say anything else. The surprise on his rival's face is genuine enough. It's almost enough to make him believe that Yuugi is completely lucid. Almost.

"Kaiba, whatever they've told you, they're lying." Yuugi moves forward again; anxious, agitated. He speaks in an urgent, borderline desperate tone.

"The bloodstains on that hospital rag you're wearing don't lie," Kaiba snaps. He is almost convinced that Yuugi is trying to fake amnesia and it annoys him. Coldly, he adds, "And how are your broken ribs feeling, after all the strenuous exercise you've had today after attempting to claw out your old man's liver?"

That remark changes Yuugi. For one fleeting moment it looks like he'll ignore them and keep on playing the part of an amnesiac, but apparently those words have hit a nerve. His face contorts and he throws himself bodily at the glass where Kaiba is standing. Startled at the instant change, Kaiba almost takes a step back, but the initial surprise keeps his body locked in place while Yuugi shouts something borderline incoherent, spittle flying and staining the glass. With his features now being a mask of utter rage, he's hard to recognise. His former rival is lost.

Kaiba turns his back on him and walks out of the room to, if possible, never return to it. He locks the door behind him, feeling a hole form in his chest. Like this, Yuugi Mutou is as good as dead. And that is exactly what he plans to announce to that part of the world that is still sane.