On the road to the golden path

FanFic100, Puzzleshipping, A sorta Fairytale Arc, part 2

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 11:17:10 GMT

(The following fic is the second in an arc of 10 fics in total, following these prompts: #29. Birth #28. Children #24. Family #27. Parents #30. Death, and five “artist’s choice” prompts as per the rules of fanfic100. This series of fics contains mainly sappy, fluffy and waffy scenes, as well as a little angst and drama. It also contains shounen ai and minor/major character death(s) - please refer to the author’s notes of each fic for appropriate summary and warnings. I decided to add the five “artist’s choice” prompts from the fanfic100 list as to expand on the lifespan that is described in this arc and to avoid huge timejumps between the fics. Thank you and happy reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Title: A sorta Fairytale, pt. 2 - “something about the Open Road”
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters: Yami no Yuugi/Atemu & Mutou Yuugi
Prompt: # 96, Artist’s Choice
Word Count: 7.667
Rating: G
Warnings: shounen ai, some Yuugi angst
Summary: Saddened by jii-chan’s death and blessed with a baby girl, Atemu and Yuugi try to deal with the drastic changes in their lives.
Author's Notes: End of series ‘fix-it’. Shounen ai. Made up name for Yuugi’s mother: “Yusuke”. Characters are around 21, 22 of age.

Key: ------- = scene change

--------------------

Fourteen months, Yuugi thought as he watched his daughter sleep. Very gently, he reached for her, touching the baby’s soft skin. He didn’t want to wake her, so he was careful as he brushed her rosy cheek, avoiding to make any noise or sudden movement. The adoption agency had estimated Tzuziko’s age to be around twelve months when Yuugi and Atemu first got to hold her. It had been difficult to pinpoint her exact age as she was left at the doorstep of the agency without much more than a change of clothes. Two months had passed since the fortunate day Yuugi and Atemu had welcomed the baby girl in their midst. What had happened to this child in her young life? Ooshimuru, the agency who had guided them through the whole adoption process, had been scarce with background information. The girl had been born to a very young mother who simply couldn’t take care of her, and the baby had been passed along the family until someone had put her up for adoption. It was such a harsh rejection that it made Yuugi’s heart ache, but he wasn’t in the position to judge - what did he know about the exact circumstances? Maybe Tzuziko’s mother had tried to the best of her abilities, and maybe she was crying every night for the loss of her daughter. He couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl, left alone to her own devices, and no one reaching out to help her.

His fingers touched her nose, still very gently; he just couldn’t help looking at her, trying to convince himself that she was really here, really lying in the crib, really his daughter. Yes, she really was here, after three years of waiting and patiently following every procedure in the book. Their patience had been rewarded, and Yuugi already knew that Tzuziko wasn’t going to be their only child. Atemu would file for another adoption procedure as soon as things had settled around the Game Shop and life in general.

“Isn’t she adorable?”

It wasn’t Atemu behind him this time, but his mother. Her voice was soft, also not to wake the sleeping Tzuziko. She moved towards the small dresser and put a pile of clean towels on top of it. Mutou Yusuke couldn’t get enough of her grandchild either, often checking up on the baby and helping out with feeding and changing diapers. She made sure not to impose herself or to intrude, but her eyes lit up significantly when her expertise was called for, showing a smile on her face that hadn’t been there since her father, Yuugi’s grandfather, had passed away.

“She is,” Yuugi said, looking up with a grateful smile. “A little miracle, and she’s all ours.”

She ruffled her son’s hair. “She’s all ours to care for and to love, to hold and to raise.”

“If only jii-chan would be still around to see her grow up.”

“At least he saw her,” Yusuke said, “and he got to hold her. He even told her a few bedtime stories, all about Ancient Egypt and golden puzzle boxes. His time was far too short, yes… but he saw her, Yuugi-kun, and we have to be thankful for every minute he was able to spend with her.”

“I know, kaa-san,” Yuugi said and his voice grew a little louder, loud enough for the baby to make a noise on her own, as if she was protesting. Yuugi immediately lowered his voice again.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel said about it. It just shouldn’t be like this. He should just be around, to tell her more bedtime stories, to teach her about games, as he taught me.”

“We all wanted him to stay longer,” his mother said, a sad frown on her face. Her grip on her son was just a little tighter. “But we have to be thankful for the time he was with her, and with us,” she repeated.

Yuugi simply nodded and withdrew his hand. Tzuziko smacked her lips and made another non-committal sound, as if she was mourning the loss of his warm fingers. The rag doll, her only possession as she left the agency, had been washed and patched up by Yuugi’s mother and sat on her pillow, close to her head. Yuugi knew his mother adored Tzuziko, but he wondered if she would love the baby even more if she had been his natural daughter. Yusuke had never pushed Yuugi to find himself a wife and start a family, and she had barely made a comment when he had come home with Atemu, even if she had to blink a few times at her son-in-law looking exactly like…well, her own son.

“You’re a responsible parent now,” she continued to talk, voice a whisper. “She’ll be counting on you, Yuugi-kun.”

“Yes, I know,” Yuugi said. It filled him with fear and gratitude at the same time. Fear of making mistakes, gratitude for the life he was responsible for; he was glad he didn’t have to do it all alone. “I’m so glad mou hitori no boku is here to help me.”

Yusuke had never asked why her son and his boyfriend referred to each other the way they did. She didn’t understand about Ceremonial Duels, Sennen Items or Pharaohs; all that she knew and cared about, was that Yuugi was happy with his partner. How they choose to call each other, was their business, even if it sounded weird to her in the beginning.

“You’re both going to be wonderful parents,” she said with the utmost faith in her voice. “Tzuziko-chan couldn’t have wished for better fathers.”

Fathers. How well was this society prepared and willing to accept same sex parents? What kind of trouble was Tzuziko going to deal with in her life? Yuugi was the kind of person to see things in a positive way, but he couldn’t deny the difficulties lying ahead of them. Once again, he was really glad he didn’t have to do it all alone. With his mother and Atemu to support him, to form a real family, he was sure everything would work out for the best. They would make it work out for the best.

“I wish I had his strength, though,” Yuugi mumbled. His mother continued to stroke his hair, the motion soothing them both.

“You’re also very strong, Yuugi-kun. Don’t you ever forget about it.”

“Mou hitori no boku says that all the time too.”

“So why don’t you believe him?”

Yuugi remained silent. Was he really that strong? He, who had buckled immediately when his grandfather died? He couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. He had done nothing but cry. Atemu was the one who had taken care of all the arrangements. He was the one keeping the store open and the household going. Atemu had been adamant in his belief that they were ready and fit to be parents and Yuugi had gone along with him, enamored with the idea of forming a perfect, loving family. But now that it was so real, he was getting afraid. What if he was doing it all wrong? Tzuziko was so vulnerable and so dependent. She had a lifetime of sadness and sorrow behind her and she was barely twelve months old.

How strong was he really, if he crumbled like this as soon as something happened? He couldn’t even balance his own life, so why would he believe that he was strong? True, his grandfather’s passing had a great influence on him, but he had to get himself together - for his mother, for his daughter, for his lover. Yusuke hugged him close.

“It wasn’t easy for me either when I had you,” she said softly. “I was young and inexperienced, and it scared me too. You just don’t know everything, no one does. You’ll learn. And yes, as scary as it may sound Yuugi-kun, you will make mistakes. But the both of you can and will face whatever comes on your path.”

Yuugi nodded, slightly distracted. He remembered vividly how hard he had fought to find the name of his beloved. Atemu. It couldn’t be that his strength had left him!

“Allow yourself some time,” his mother encouraged him. “A baby is a really big change in your life, in anyone’s life. You have to adjust yourself to this new stage in your life, you have to get used to the change in situation. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

He started to smile. She was right, of course. He couldn’t expect everything to stay the same now that a baby was around. Even though she wasn’t aware of it, Tzuziko had turned his whole life upside down. A new stage in his life, yes, the one of a parent - and he was going to be the best parent in the world!

“Thanks, kaa-san,” he said and pouted at how childish his voice sounded. Yusuke laughed softly and ruffled his hair once more before straightening herself.

“It’s time for dinner now, don’t you think?”

---------------------

Life went on. It hadn’t stood still for a moment, even though it felt like it ever since Yuugi had come home to find his mother crying at the kitchen table and Atemu standing behind her, pale and silent. The former Pharaoh had hold onto that silence as he had taken care of grandfather’s funeral and the execution of his estate. He was mostly occupied with the daily grind of running the Game Shop - most of the customers visited to pay their respects and talked about Mutou Suguroku, reminiscing the days when he’d been working at the store, with always a friendly word and advice for everyone.

Yuugi knew he should help out Atemu more, but his whole body felt strangely locked. Daily and practical things, like getting dressed, eating, taking a shower or doing dishes, went on auto- pilot, and he performed his chores mechanically. He had tried to sort his grandfather’s belongings, but it had been too emotional and his crying had set off the baby, who was too young to understand why her father was so sad. His feelings of guilt were tripled every time he saw Atemu busy with either the store or the legal paperwork. At this moment, Yuugi just couldn’t muster up the willpower and the energy to help him. He couldn’t even prioritize his study, he was lucky that he was in the middle of summer holiday, because he couldn’t care less about exams and colleges. A little bit of household chores and coddling with his daughter was all that Yuugi did. He wasn’t exactly proud of himself, but both Atemu and his mother respected his way of dealing with his grief - which made Yuugi feel even guiltier, as he wanted to be there for the others as well.

It was obvious to him that Atemu had great respect for grandfather and had difficulties dealing with the man’s passing. Even though the former Pharaoh didn’t show it, completely absorbed in all the things he had to do and his work at the Game Shop, he was more silent than usual, slightly absent-minded whenever Yuugi asked him something. He was afraid Atemu was suppressing his sadness and buried himself in all the work on purpose. He didn’t ignore their daughter, not at all, but he certainly didn’t allow himself any time to just sit down and…grieve.

This couldn’t go on, and Yuugi knew it. He decided to spend some time with Atemu instead of wallowing in his own misery. They weren’t a couple to suddenly stop talking to each other. He took a large tray with him, carrying two large mugs of tea, a plate with cookies and biscuits and the mail, and went to the Game Shop. It was fairly quiet; it usually was right after lunch hour, but it would pick up again in an hour or so. A lot of the customers were afraid that the Game Shop would close, even though Otogi’s game store was still in town for all their gaming needs.

“I brought you mail, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said as he pushed the door open. He closed the door again with his foot and walked over to the large counter. Atemu looked up from the paperwork and smiled as usual when he saw his aibou approach.

“Ah, I was just about to look for it myself,” he said. “I am expecting a few things.”

Atemu took the mail from the tray and leafed through the envelopes. He frowned when he didn’t recognize the handwriting on one. Opening it, he noticed it was a card from the United States, from Professor Hopkins and his granddaughter Rebecca, offering condolences. The professor was in bad health himself and hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, much to his regret. Rebecca stayed in touch by e-mail, modern technology making it much easier to keep contact between different continents. Yuugi was the one to handle the more personal correspondence. Atemu cared for it too, but Yuugi was much more spontaneous in his writing than he was.

Every other day an e-mail from Anzu in New York arrived, filled with tales and news about her life as a student at the Academy for Performing Arts. Honda mailed often the results from his race team and his sponsors. He was studying for his diplomas to set up shop himself, while Jounouchi still promised to have Tzuziko’s car built from scratch. Yuugi didn’t know what to do without his friends and their continuous text messages, e-mails and phone calls. He had hoped they would extend the same courtesy towards Atemu and vice versa, but he did notice a small distance between them. They referred to him with the more formal ‘-san’ honorific while almost no one of their group used an honorific for Yuugi. They involved Atemu whenever talking to Yuugi, but there was a slight distance noticeable, albeit not an awkward one. It was strange, because when they had shared bodies still, Atemu had always been ‘the other Yuugi’ and was called and treated as such. Yuugi assumed that now Atemu had his own body, his own personality surfaced more and more, showing that he wasn’t much alike Yuugi.

Atemu opened a few other envelopes, while Yuugi tried to gauge his reaction. He pulled out some newsletters from business associates, a few invoices and finally a letter from the bank, informing them of the total of grandfather’s savings and accounts.

“I am almost done with jii-chan’s arrangements,” Atemu said as he picked up his mug of tea, gently blowing at the hot liquid. Before he could continue, Yuugi put his hand on his, shaking his head. He didn’t want to talk about it right now. He wasn’t interested in finances or possessions; if it were up to him, his grandfather was still alive and around, and not some clinical, impersonal bank statement.

All his friends had attended the funeral, even Anzu, who had flown over from New York. Yuugi was so glad to see them all, and had made sure to stand around them and not in the middle of grandfather’s business associates he didn’t know. He had seen the looks given to him and Atemu, and he was fairly sure that their alikeness and the nature of their relationship had been more often a topic of conversation than grandfather’s passing. He hated it when that happened. Same sex relationships weren’t all that accepted in general, but a relationship with someone who was your spitting image…

“Tzuziko-chan is doing so great,” Yuugi said instead. “She says ‘Hikari Papa’ in the most adorable way!”

Atemu had missed Tzuziko’s first words, but he had caught her saying ‘Hikari Papa’ once in Yuugi’s arms, and a few days later ‘Yami Papa’ when he was holding her. He didn’t know where the girl got it from, but he was content with it. However, the former Pharaoh had refused to throw a party to celebrate Tzuziko's arrival; not because he didn’t want to, but because he thought it was inappropriate with grandfather’s recent passing. Yuugi knew that Atemu’s actual reason was that he didn’t want to show Tzuziko off as some kind of gift wrapped bundle of candy from a store. Instead, they had gone out to dinner with their best friends after meeting Tzuziko in the safety of their own place. The girl had reacted fairly well to all the visitors; compared to how scared she had been by the people surrounding her in the beginning, this was a very big step ahead for her.

“It is so nice to see her develop and grow,” Atemu said. “It is good of you that you are home to experience all of it so close, aibou.”

“Yeah, but I have to go back to university soon and make up for the tests I couldn’t take due to grandfather’s passing,” Yuugi said. He hadn’t touched his books in weeks.

“Can you not get some parental leave of absence?” Atemu’s eyes shimmered with mirth.

“Hey! If anyone should get a leave of absence, it should be you. You’ve been working so hard lately!”

“I am only doing what needs to be done,” Atemu said. Yuugi didn’t touch his own tea. Instead he took Atemu’s free hand in his own, caressing the ring on his finger.

“You’re doing much more than that,” Yuugi mumbled. “You’re a true Pharaoh, mou hitori no boku. You assume the position of leader when needed, and you rule fairly over us all.”

“Leader? Rule? I do hope you do not mean I am imposing on you and your mother?”

“Of course not, no, not at all, that’s not how I meant it,” Yuugi hurried to correct himself. He smiled. “It’s just typically you to step up to the plate, get an overview of the situation and indeed, do what needs to be done. Without complaining, without asking…without thinking about yourself.”

Atemu tilted his head a little, curiously looking at Yuugi.

“You look tired, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said, faintly blushing because he knew very well why the other was all but exhausted.

“I am fine, aibou,” was Atemu’s standard response, even though he put his tea mug down. Yuugi moved his hand further over Atemu’s, pressing a kiss to his fingers.

“Mou hitori no boku, I’m so sorry…”

“We talked about that before, aibou,” Atemu said. “You need time to deal with the loss, and no one can tell you how to do that. We also have our daughter to think of; two drastic changes in such short time. Loss and gain, it truly is a sign of how close life and death are to each other.”

“I’m just a little worried about you.”

“Come here.”

Yuugi was all but happy to cuddle with Atemu and all but jumped on his lap. There was no one in the store anyway, and the door bell would chime loud enough if anyone arrived. He kissed him on the neck, searching out his warmth, heaving a sigh of relief as he felt Atemu’s arms around him.

“I just feel so guilty, mou hitori no boku. I’m very happy to have Tzuziko-chan, yet I’m constantly asking if I do the right thing. I’m even doubting whether I should go back to the university or not, or just get a job to help out with the finances. I’m so very, very happy to have you…and I’m letting you down.”

“You are not,” Atemu tried to reassure him. He moved his hand up to ruffle Yuugi’s hair. “Aibou, having a child and losing a loved one in such short time puts a lot of stress on you. Like I said, two drastic changes… it is not easy, not even for me. I am also asking if I do the right thing, myself.”

“You don’t show it,” Yuugi pouted. “You have so much confidence.”

“Because I have you.” Atemu held the ring up in front of him and tapped his nose with it. “As long as we are together, we can face anything. We made a conscious decision to have a child, to start a family. We have a roof over our heads, we have loving friends…”

“We’re so very lucky.”

“We certainly are.”

Yuugi didn’t add to that, but kissed Atemu on the neck again, working his way slowly up to his ear. His hand was on Atemu’s chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt.

“I was wondering, though…was there any news of my father?”

“What brings this up, aibou?” Atemu sounded surprised, and with good reason. Yuugi barely mentioned his father. Atemu hadn’t even met him, as he was always away on business trips.

“I… I don’t know,” Yuugi said. He was surprised by his own words. “It’s just that.. well, even professor Hopkins with his bad health and all across the ocean takes the effort to send a card, and my own father just…doesn’t call, doesn’t show any sign of life. He’s become a grandfather and he just doesn’t care.”

“We do not know that,” Atemu said, but his voice betrayed his disbelief. From the very few times Yuugi’s father had come up in discussion, Atemu had never made a secret of his disdain for the man. “We have to give him the benefit of the doubt, aibou.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Yuugi answered, sullen. He felt childish. It looked like almost everyone was a mature, responsible adult but him. “Why don’t you close up shop and we spend the afternoon with Tzuziko-chan?”

“That sounds lovely, aibou,” Atemu said, and he pressed his lips on Yuugi’s. “I will close earlier, but not for the entire afternoon. We need the income.”

Yuugi was disappointed, but understood nonetheless. He was about to say something when the door bell chimed loudly; he quickly left Atemu’s lap and grabbed the cup of tea and held it in front of him, as if he wanted to act completely innocent. The customer greeted them and started browsing the card games. Atemu hid a small laugh behind his hand.

--------------------------

On a Thursday afternoon, Yuugi was folding the laundry with his mother. He was uncharacteristically silent - only one more week before he had to return to the university. It bothered and frightened him. His summer break was almost over, and he had to make up for the exams he missed. His counsellor had been lenient enough to allow him to take his exams at a later date, but Yuugi’s concentration had been far off the scale. He couldn’t waste this chance! The university was prepared to make an exception for him, he couldn’t afford to screw it up.

“I think there’s something on Atemu-san’s mind that he finds difficult to share with you, Yuugi-kun,” his mother said suddenly, putting another towel to an already impressive stack. The house was fairly quiet, as Atemu was at work in the Game Shop and Tzuziko was enjoying her afternoon nap.

“Mou hitori no boku knows he can discuss anything with me,” Yuugi responded. Yusuke nodded and continued folding bed sheets.

“Of course he knows, but he doesn’t want to bother you.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Yuugi-kun, you know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she said. “You took a serious blow, and you have been drained of your energy ever since. I know what he meant to you, Yuugi-kun. It’s times like these that I wish your father.. my own husband.. would come home and take some of our burdens away.”

Yuugi’s hands rested on the linens. “Our burdens,” he repeated, softly. “All these burdens, and I’m not even helping out.”

“That’s not what I meant, dear,” Yusuke said. “No one blames you. I’m just afraid you close yourself off a little too much. We have a lot to think about, and we need each other.”

“Yes, I know… the Game Shop, money… maybe I should just get a job,” he said. He had considered quitting university, but hadn’t worked up enough courage to discuss it with Atemu. The former Pharaoh was very high-strung on good education, and he wouldn’t agree with Yuugi giving up on his studies, even if it was temporary.

“I think Atemu-san wants you to finish your studies,” Yusuke said out loud what he was thinking, “And I want you to finish too - I want to see my son graduate! You’re much more valuable for a job if you have a diploma!”

“Kaa-san,” Yuugi rolled his eyes and she looked at him sternly. He blushed. He knew how his mother insisted on education - she had found a good partner in Atemu concerning that point of discussion - she had lectured him enough about it when he was still going to Domino High. She even resorted to whacking him with a ladle to get his attention instead of ‘wasting time playing card games’.

“I’ll talk to mou hitori no boku about it,” he said, feeling bad nonetheless. What could Atemu be keeping from him?

-----------------------

He woke up in the middle of the night and immediately realized that he was alone in the bed - Atemu always had his arms around him, and the lack of warmth and the reassurance of protection made him feel cold and lonely. It wasn’t the first time that he had been alone in the bed; they had taken turns at going out at night when Tzuziko needed them. The baby had developed a good, solid sleeping schedule and crying at night had become a rarity. As it was, Yuugi heard gentle footsteps, announcing Atemu’s return.

Yuugi looked to his right, up to the large ceiling window. When Atemu had moved in, they had turned Yuugi’s bedroom into the master bedroom. They had purchased a large bed, to their mutual pleasure. Yuugi had to sacrifice his desk in order to make room. If he wanted to study, he had to take his books down to either the storage room when it wasn’t too cold (it didn’t have any heating) or to the extremely small office wedged between the storage room and the Game Shop (it was the size of a shoebox). Sometimes he studied at the kitchen table; but that was often more distracting than that actual studying happened.

The door to the room went open and Atemu sneaked in, careful as not to make any sound. Yuugi smiled when he felt the familiar shift in weight on the bed and he rolled towards him, his fingers poking at Atemu’s chest. He gasped, not expecting Yuugi to be awake.

“Where have you been, mister?”

“Did I wake you, aibou?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t even hear her crying?”

“A bad dream, perhaps,” Atemu said and he lied down, relaxing into the pillows. “She did not need a new diaper and she refused to eat. I stayed with her until she was calm enough to fall asleep again.”

“Poor little thing,” Yuugi said.

“Yes, at least we can talk if we had a bad dream,” Atemu said. “But she is safe in her bed, and we are around to comfort her in bad times.”

He fell silent and for a moment Yuugi thought that Atemu had fallen asleep too; he was a notorious light sleeper; quick to wake up but also quickly to doze off again.

“Mou hitori no boku,” he said. He tapped him on the shoulder. Atemu always wore the bottom part of their pyjamas, Yuugi the top. He liked the way the moon shone upon his lover’s tan chest.

“Yes, aibou?”

Gods, it was so good to hear his deep voice in the night. Just the reassurance that he was here, right here in the bed with him…

“I want to ask you something. Is there something you want to talk to me about?”

He couldn’t see it, but he could imagine Atemu pursing his lips.

“Why is that, aibou?”

“Well, maybe there’s something on your mind…you’ve been quite silent lately.”

“I have been quite busy as of late,” Atemu admitted, without any accusation in his voice.

“Silent, not busy.” Yuugi cuddled up to him and put his arms around him. He didn’t have to wait for long to feel Atemu’s arms around his own body. Content, he snuggled even closer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I do not think now is the time to talk about it. Go back to sleep, my love.”

“So there is something on your mind.”

He could hear Atemu chuckle, and heaved a sigh of contentment as warm lips touched his skin.

“It has to do something with jii-chan’s estate, right?”

Another kiss, another hug. Who would’ve thought that Atemu of all people was so touchy-feely behind closed doors? In public, he didn’t even hold hands, unless they were among friends; but in the privacy of their own home, Yuugi revelled in the attention he received from the former Pharaoh, especially in moments like these.

“You should focus on your studies,” Atemu said, “anything else can wait.”

It was late, and maybe this wasn’t indeed the best of moments to start talking about what was on his mind. Yuugi made a mental note to ask Atemu again later. He was right; university was just another weekend away, and he was going to be busy enough as it was. It scared and excited him at the same time.

“Mou hitori no boku?”

“Yes, aibou?”

“Did I already tell you today how much I love you?”

“About five times.”
“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

------------------------------

Yuugi had feared that going back to university would be tough on him. To his own amazement, he found himself adjusted after one week already. The semester started up again and he settled into his old routine without a hitch. It was tough to combine the extra study hours for his exams with his regular classes, but after he had cleared that problem, he slid back into the daily grind of life seamlessly.

Weekly lunch with Jounouchi at Fujikawa’s had become a tradition. Honda joined in if he could find the time in his schedule. Otogi sometimes joined them too, if he couldn’t make it for his usual lunch with Yuugi on Tuesdays. He was a year Yuugi’s senior and his workload had doubled. Combined with all his work for his Black Crown game store, it left him little time to actually enjoy lunch, and he was complaining about feeling suffocated. As always, he felt much better after lunch with his friends; they excelled at cheering each other up.

“You look happier, Yuugi,” Jounouchi said as he dug into his dish. Fujikawa’s was one of the few places that didn’t mind seeing their guests in work overalls. “Things are picking up for you again, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuugi beamed at him. “I’m so busy with university, home and Tzuziko-chan that I barely have any time left to think about bad things.”

“Everyone has his own way of dealing with grief, Yuugi,” Honda said. It was one of those rare occasions that he joined them for lunch. It was really too bad that their schedules were so different, unlike the time at Domino High when they shared all their classes. It was the price to pay for growing into adulthood, Yuugi presumed. He was grateful hat they still were friends; so many contacts died down or got lost because of people growing up… and apart.

Honda waved around with his chopsticks. “No one can tell you how to deal with it.”

“Come to think of it,” Yuugi stared into his soup, “I don’t think I’ve seen mou hitori no boku really grieve.”

“Yeah, he’d be the one to bottle it all up.” Jounouchi sipped his drink. He looked at Yuugi as if he wanted to examine him. “Don’t forget, he’s the one at home, dealing with your grandfather’s estate. You get out of the house daily, that’s why you can deal with it better.”

Jounouchi might put it a little crudely, but Yuugi agreed with him. He was convinced that staying at home during the summer break had confronted him again and again with his grandfather’s passing. Now that he was at the university and back to his old routine, he found himself able to take a little distance from it. Not that he wanted to forget about his grandfather, but it strangely put things more into perspective.

“I think mou hitori no boku isn’t telling me something either.”

“What do you mean?” Honda arched an eyebrow. “You seem like the kind of couple that tells each other everything, and I mean everything.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t want me to bother with it, because I needed so much time to deal with jii-chan’s passing…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jounouchi said. “You can’t put a timestamp on grieving.”

“Yeah, I know. But I want him to confide in me, and I have the feeling he…I don’t know how to say it. I want to be there for him as he is for me, and if he doesn’t confide in me…”

“I’m sure he has every bit of faith and confidence in you,” Honda said. “Just as you have faith and confidence in him. He’ll talk when he wants to talk.”

Yuugi smiled at Honda, thankful for his friend’s advice - even though he couldn’t do much with it. They didn’t know Atemu as well as he did, and he was afraid the former Pharaoh was going to keep to himself and bother himself only with it, instead of speaking up. He always revelled in Atemu’s protection…but what if that protection was so rigid that the other couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, speak his mind? They were adults, parents. They were responsible for their daughter, for each other, for their relationship. It didn’t work out if they didn’t talk. They had never followed up on that one talk they had in bed; Yuugi because he was too busy with university, Atemu because he didn’t want to bother Yuugi. This has got to change.

With a determined look on his face, Yuugi finished his soup, meanwhile listening to his friends talking about races, cars and motorcycles.

-------------------

He was pleasantly surprised to see the Game Shop closed, even though for some reason Atemu was quicker to close the Game Shop earlier on a Wednesday afternoon than on any other day. Taking the stairs up, he was endeared to find Atemu in the living room, on the floor with Tzuziko and a mountain of building blocks. It was actually quite fun to see him holding a bright, almost fluorescent block and encouraging Tzuziko to build a tower with it. The baby was frowning, taking her task very seriously; she simply rejected the block when it wasn’t good or colorful enough in her eyes.

Yuugi heard Atemu talking, but didn’t quite understand what he was saying…until it dawned to him that Atemu was teaching Tzuziko the Ancient Egyptian alphabet with the blocks he was giving to her.

“Mou hitori no boku,” he laughed as he picked up Tzuziko to cuddle her, “don’t you think she’s a little too young for that?”

“Hikari papa,” the girl said, followed by a perfect rendition of at least the first six vowels of the complicated alphabet.

“Wow, she’s good.”

Atemu collected the blocks and dumped them in a large box to keep them neat and tidy. “I do think one can not start early enough with education.”

Yuugi rolled his eyes again, but didn’t comment. He looked at his daughter. After her initial cry of joy at seeing her father, she fell silent again. Tzuziko was silent most of the time. Her eyes showed what she had been through, and it probably would never go away. The intensity, the seriousness she approached life with was something that was entirely characteristic for her, and Yuugi didn’t think he could change that. Why would he? Tzuziko didn’t deserve to be a victim, or to be victimized. Her bad start shouldn’t hamper her growth and development, and Yuugi was here with Atemu to make sure she was going to have the best life possible.

“I’ll bring Tzuziko-chan to bed, and then we’ll have some coffee together,” he said and held the baby on his arm. She immediately stretched her arms towards Atemu.

“No Hikari papa,” she said. “Yami papa bisou!”

“Don’t tell me, you’ve been teaching her French too?”

Atemu coughed. “Just a little.”

Shaking his head but still amused, Yuugi brought Tzuziko to bed, taking his time to tuck her in before returning to the living room. Atemu was gone. Confused, Yuugi was about to go look for him when he returned, with a bundle of paperwork in his arms.

“Mou hitori no boku? We were going to have some coffee?”

“I decided to close up for the rest of the afternoon so I can catch up with all of this,” Atemu said as he put the paperwork on the table. “I really need to check these invoices…”

Yuugi shook his head. Not now.

“Sit down, mou hitori no boku. I want to talk to you about something.”

“I am sorry aibou, but if I do not check these papers I…”

“Sit down, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said and startled himself with the commanding tone of his voice. He couldn’t help but laugh when he saw Atemu’s indignant expression, but he did sit down.

“You should consider a career in the military,” Atemu pouted. Yuugi blushed faintly and took a seat next to Atemu, but not before he shoved the paperwork to the other corner of the table so they couldn’t get distracted by it.

“I want you to tell me what’s on your mind.” Yuugi lifted up his finger and put it on Atemu’s lips when the other was taking a breath, probably to protest. “I want you to tell what it is, if it has to do with jii-chan’s estate or not, I can take it. I want to know, mou hitori no boku. I don’t want anything to stand between us. You can tell me, whatever it is.”

“Are you sure?” Atemu said. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and suddenly Yuugi had to swallow. Despite his tough words, he didn’t know if he was really prepared to hear what Atemu had to say. The former Pharaoh could be so…forceful sometimes. He searched out his hand, and Atemu was quick to put his other hand on his.

“All right, aibou. It is…I am not sure if I want to continue the game store as it is, aibou. I...I am not exactly comfortable with working as a store clerk.”

In a flash, Yuugi recalled the short talk he’d had with his grandfather. The elderly man, already bedridden, had said that he didn’t expect the Game Shop to be a Game Shop forever. He wanted Yuugi and Atemu, who he obviously fully respected as his grandson’s life partner, to do what they wanted, and not to continue the Game Shop out of some kind of misplaced feelings of tradition. He had told Yuugi that he didn’t see Atemu as a store clerk for the rest of his life, and he didn’t want to saddle either one of them with the feeling that they were obliged to continue the Game Shop.

“You have your study to focus on for at least three more years,” Atemu continued. “I can take care of Tzuziko and work at home. I was thinking of keeping the store though, but with a different purpose - not a Game Shop, but an antiquary… you know, oddities, rare book prints, exclusive statues, those kinds of things.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Yuugi said without one second of hesitation.

Atemu seemed to be shocked, surprised and relieved at the same time. He squeezed Yuugi’s hand.

“Do you really think so, aibou?”

“Was that what was bothering you?” Yuugi asked, and he stroked Atemu’s hair. His fingers dipped a little lower, touching his ear shell. A golden earring was clipped to it, as he was slowly saving up to buy jewellery similar to his days as a Pharaoh. Gold looked extremely good on him…

Atemu nodded. Yuugi leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him in a bear-like hug.

“Mou hitori no boku, I’m so glad you told me this! I didn’t know… I’m so sorry! I should’ve known, I should’ve talked to you sooner…”

“I was not sure how to bring this up to you, aibou,” Atemu said, his eyes their usual size now that he felt relieved. “I thought you wanted to keep everything in its old state. The Game Shop is jii-chan’s legacy after all. You were so sad, aibou, after his passing, and it hurt me so much that I could not take that pain away from you.”

“Oh, mou hitori no boku, you kept this all to yourself, all alone. What a burden it had to be! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I could not find the right opportunity to talk about it, aibou. With all the changes, the baby, jii-chan, your sadness, my sadness…”

“I should’ve known,” Yuugi said, hugging him even tighter. “I should’ve noticed that you weren’t feeling really happy. You got all this responsibility shoved at you and you took it, because you’re a true and real Pharaoh.”
“Aibou… I need air.”

“Ah… right.” Yuugi loosened his grip, but didn’t pull away from Atemu completely. He could see how the other was relieved, more relaxed. “I’m sorry, mou hitori no boku. It wasn’t fair that you got all this thrown into your lap. You did your best to keep the store open and the household going, and I can’t thank you enough for that. If it weren’t for you, we would’ve completely crumbled and crashed.”

Atemu nodded. “A lot had to be done,” he said, “and a lot needed to be done. We are a very rich family, aibou, but not in the financial sense. That was why I had to keep the store open.”

“Is it that bad?” Yuugi felt sad. “I can look for a job and keep the university on hold…”

“No, no studies on hold,” Atemu said sternly. He put his free hand on Yuugi’s cheek, stroking the skin. He heaved a small sigh. “I will be happy to hold the store open and earn us a regular income for as long as you need to study.”

“That’s not true, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said. “What did we just talk about? I can’t expect you to do work you’re not really happy with for another three years!”

“If it has to be done…”

“No,” Yuugi interrupted him. “I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to sacrifice three years to do this all for me.”

Atemu opened his mouth again to protest, but Yuugi cut him short once more.

“No, mou hitori no boku. I want all of us to be happy. I’m very sure you can turn the Game Shop into a nice antiquary, and build up a new circle of customers. We might have to scrape by, but as long as we can give our daughter what she needs and we can afford the house, the university, food and clothes.. well, uhm… I’m sure we’ll manage to survive.”

“We can manage that,” Atemu answered dryly. “If we cut those terribly expensive lunches at Fujikawa’s.”

“Wheat? But- but…”

“Kidding, just kidding, aibou.”

“That’s just cruel, mou hitori no boku.”

“I am sorry aibou, that was not my intention.”

“You fall for everything, as long as I say it, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Kiss me!”

Atemu was happy to comply, and they kissed. Yuugi felt himself all but melt into the loving kiss, once more grateful that the Gods had granted Atemu to be on this Earth, restoring his body and his life. He knew he couldn’t be a Pharaoh in this lifetime, but Yuugi admired his strength to adapt and adjust himself. Dealing in antiquities was something cut out for him, and as he worked from home, he could be around Tzuziko and Yusuke to keep an eye on everything. It was a very reassuring thought, and a lifestyle that both could be content with.

Yuugi knew he had some tough years ahead of him, but one day he would come home with his degree and find a good job to support his family properly. Until then, they had time enough to settle into their new lives, as parents, as lovers, as partners.

“You have to promise me one thing though, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi broke up the kiss.

“What is that, aibou?”

“I want jii-chan’s room to stay the same for now,” Yuugi said. “No changes.”

“I was not planning to…”

“I know. But we don’t have a guest room any more, and when we’re going to have a second child sooner or later, we won’t have any other room for the new baby but jii-chan’s. For now, let’s just leave it, okay?”

Atemu nodded. “As you wish, aibou.” He kissed him again. “Such sadness.”

“I miss him.”

“I miss him too, aibou.”

Another kiss, a deep, passionate kiss. Yuugi revelled in Atemu’s presence, enjoying his warmth and protection. He felt safe with him, respected and appreciated. There was no other person he could ever be more in love with than his own other self, and he couldn’t care less what people thought about it. Atemu was the only one to understand him, to give him this much room, to connect to him on this kind of level.

He didn’t feel sad anymore. He had a wonderful partner, a loving mother and a beautiful baby girl in his life. Jii-chan was still a part of that, even if he wasn’t physically around. He would always be a part of this family.

---------------------------

Previous chapters: 1-1 | 1-2 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 10/2 [END OF STORY]

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 16:23:51 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

continued from here

-------------------------

The next morning brought the reunion of the Pharaoh with the rest of his Priests, the former Generals Karim, Shaadah and Set. Everyone was shocked by Set’s appearance: he was the spitting image of Kaiba. Another ‘joke’ on Gozaburo’s part, and another testimonial of how he had used people in general. Yuugi shuddered to think of what Gozaburo could’ve done if he had had full access to Kaiba’s laptop with his research and information on what he called ‘virtual reality’.

Yuugi had slept all night and woke up to find a pitcher with fresh water and a small tray with breakfast on his dresser. He thought it might be Anzu who had taken care of it, and he wolfed everything down. He didn’t have much time to get freshened up and dress himself, as the Priests had simply walked through, searching for their Pharaoh. The commotion was short-lived as Mahaado greeted them and introduced them to the others; as usual, Jounouchi was up in arms to defend his friends from any danger, and to him the Generals still presented danger. It had taken quite the effort to calm him again; fortunately Shizuka was around to guide her onii-chan away from the not-really-impressed Priests who immediately asked to see their Pharaoh.

With the Pharaoh’s court assembled, Yuugi had some time left to work on solving the Puzzle. He carefully kept the other Items out of the Priests’ hands. It was strange to think of them as Priests instead of Generals. All of them had disposed of their armor, if any, and wore similar robes to Mahaado’s. The house had gone from silent to cozily full to overcrowded. Even the living room served as sleeping accommodation; with a bit of humor, one could say there was a continuous slumber party going on. Yuugi was still amazed by his feelings about all of this; his perfect momentum in time, in honor of the day his family had died, had been ruptured, and he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. More so, he started to grow comfortable and satisfied with the presence of all the people around him.

The Items were safely stashed in the hiding-place located in the Game Shop. Despite everything, the store was left unused and respectfully alone. Yuugi didn’t think he would live long enough to see it restored to its former use, like any other store. The world was too injured, too damaged for a Game Shop to be back in use within the next decade. Houses needed to be rebuild, schools, supermarkets and stores, infrastructure needed to be repaired, and there were still members and remnants of the Elite Troops out there. News of the world was slowly trickling in; contradicting messages, rumors and outdated news. Jounouchi and Honda transmitted day and night the news about Gozaburo all around the world, but his grip had been chokingly tight; many people were still not informed and confused.

None of the former Generals seemed to be upset about the man’s death. Karim, a remarkably buff General, had spat a few times on the floor when he heard the news and Shaadah, his body shrouded by formlessly wide robes, had only shook his head and uttered something in a language nobody understood.

Set, on the other hand, showed a striking copy of Kaiba’s smirk, stressing their more-than-just-physical similarities. His opinion of Gozaburo was unknown, but the tall Priest’s scowl informed people more than enough of what he was really thinking. Besides, he was far more shocked at seeing Kaiba than by Gozaburo’s death.

All Generals however, now they had returned to their original function as Priest, hovered close to the Pharaoh who was recovering quickly. Without wearing the armor, his sharp mind and intelligence resurfaced gradually, and he reverted to the person he once used to be. Even though no one’s memories were fully restored or clear in the first place, the Priests knew enough – whether by instinct or it had been drilled into them - to set up their Pharaoh’s court and household, and soon they had everything up and running again.

Karim had appointed himself in charge of the food distribution and took stock of all of their supplies. When shipments arrived from overseas, mostly from the United States who had barely escaped Gozaburo’s influence, he was the one to hand out food, medication, clothes and other basic necessities. Karim was very strict – but very fair - in the rationing of the supplies and he was good at judging who needed what the most.

Gathering and distributing information was Shaadah’s forte. Within a few days he had set up a complete and reliable network and courier service to send out communiqués around the world with the definitive news about Gozaburo’s demise. He filtered out the rumors and developed a standard for his newscasts to combat misinformation and contradiction.

The tallest of them all, Set, was running for government himself. Society was in chaos; there was no clarity on who was doing what and who was in charge. There was no government, no president, no emperor. Someone had to set priorities and take inventory of everything that had to be done. Set had a knack for judging characters and keeping a good overview; it didn’t take him very long to appoint the right people to the right positions, starting with getting full electricity and water supply for the entire city.

Ruling them all was the Pharaoh, usually accompanied by Mahaado. The magician-priest’s leg had healed, but despite the care, it was still bothering him with a slight limp. Atemu, though no one referred to him with his first name, was on top of everything. His voice boomed through the house more often than not and people ran in and out, following orders, executing orders. The Priests themselves moved as if they had all the time in the world, their composure always calm yet with the right amount of authority.

It didn’t escape Yuugi, who felt oddly left out, that the Priests spoke often and at length with the Pharaoh. He didn’t know if their conversations always pertained to all the work that had to be done. Yuugi had time enough on his hands now that the Resistance had become as good as obsolete. He was relieved to resign from his position as leader, a position he had never felt really happy or at ease with, but solving the Puzzle was all that he had to do now. This drastic change left him frustrated, and the Puzzle was extremely difficult to boot. He used to be so good at solving riddles and games, but this one… was spectacular and annoying at the same time. The pieces had to be inserted in a way that was hard to figure out; they could click and turn in almost every direction.

Otogi and Shizuka tried to cheer him up as they drank tea with him. It was almost unheard of - tea time, with biscuits! Their advice was in general worthless in case of the Puzzle, but Yuugi appreciated their visits and his heart was filled with joy at seeing their entangled hands. Every day he was more and more convinced that everything was going to work out. The world was going to be a better place, responding to the people’s hopes and beliefs, including himself.

Anzu, Honda and Jounouchi were pleased with the Priests’ efficiency, but didn’t like to see Yuugi left out. They involved him in everything they did - like many others, they were searching all over town for a suitable places to live, now that the greatest fear of the Elite Troops was gone. Honda located finally an apartment building that was relatively unscathed, and had claimed a few of the apartments for the lot of them. It was hard to believe that not long ago they had lived underground, fearing for their lives; now they were able to live like normal people, without the fear of tyranny and suppression, and not everyone found it easy to adjust.

Yuugi finished the Puzzle after two months, staring in awe at the shape and the splendor of the Item. It was an upside-down pyramid, with a mythical eye on the front – a thing that every Item shared. Attaching it to a simple piece of rope, Yuugi felt strangely empty after finishing it. He had spent all his time on solving it, and now that he was done… he suddenly had a bad feeling about it. Yuugi sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy one way or another. The Pharaoh couldn’t keep the Item anyway.

He rose from his chair. He had worked on the Puzzle in the living room and all of the furniture had been set aside to make room for the Priests’ beds. It was a jumble of sheets and blankets; they weren’t exactly used to making their beds themselves. Yuugi often caught someone else doing it for them; it was very little effort, and nobody dared to bother the Priests to teach them. Somehow, Yuugi had the ominous feeling, it didn’t matter anymore.

The door to the Pharaoh’s room was closed. That bewildered him; usually the door was open. Mahaado had swapped some of the furniture around to make room for a desk with a chair, destined for the Pharaoh of course. Yuugi didn’t know if or how Mahaado kept swapping everything around to make room for his bed every night, as he certainly didn’t sleep in the same room as the other Priests. Nobody had commented on him staying so close to the Pharaoh either.

“Atemu-san,” Yuugi said while knocking on the door. He had never thought about referring to him with his title instead of his name. The Pharaoh finally had found his name, so why not use it? He didn’t receive an answer so he pushed the door open, slowly. Atemu was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in plain white pajamas, his hands folded, resting in his lap. It reminded him of the way Mahaado had been waiting for him the first time he met the magician-General. Yuugi was touched that their deep bond had transcended through all the hardships they endeavored. These small gestures were what tied them together; Pharaoh and Priest, student and teacher, and friends beyond the end. Yuugi knew all about Mahaado’s wish for more, and if it had been in his power, he would have loved to make it come true. They both knew, however, that the Pharaoh’s heart wasn’t with his Priest that way.

“I solved your Puzzle.”

“You did?” Atemu all but jumped from the bed, his eyes immediately searching out Yuugi. It was so delightful to see his red eyes without any smoldering, aggressive emotion behind it. They were… bland at the moment, without the promise of blood, but they also missed the depth and warmth of a human being.

The Pharaoh reached for the Puzzle, the upside down golden triangle that was his symbol of power. Mahaado already rose from his own seat, his face expressing fear.

“You know what happens when you touch it, Atemu-san.” Yuugi pulled the Puzzle away from him.

Atemu showed Yuugi a tentative smile. “How is that for irony,” he said, “that the only thing that really belongs to me is also the only thing to kill me.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Atemu-san.” Yuugi approached him, but made sure to keep the Puzzle out of his reach. Just the slightest touch would… he quickly steered away from that train of thoughts. Mahaado was oddly silent, but the fear hadn’t left his face. There was something… of acceptance in his eyes, as if he had acquiesced to something.

“It is soon time to set everyone free,” Atemu said.

“What do you mean?” Yuugi asked and all but clutched the Puzzle to his chest.

“You know that we do not belong in this world,” Atemu answered, and he sat down again. He glanced at Mahaado before looking at Yuugi. “I have decided that it is time for us to go.”

“You can’t go,” Yuugi said, baffled. “We need you! Look at how things are going – neatly and structured – without as much as a hitch! We are rebuilding, reconstructing… we wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help.”

“We have given you a start,” Atemu replied. “The rest is up to you, Mutou Yuugi. You have the power and the strength to continue where I am going to leave off.”

“No. No, I don’t. You have to stay here.”

“You have to understand…” Mahaado spoke softly. “You have to understand that we discussed this with our Pharaoh extensively, and we all agree with him. We stand like one man behind his decision.”

“But of course, you are his court,” Yuugi said. It earned him a real, wide smile from Atemu. “What?”

“They do not always agree with me, and they certainly are allowed to speak up their own mind. My Priests are not my slaves, and they do not need to say yes to everything I propose or want.” He was obviously amused. “If they were, my decision would not have been this hard.”

“I can’t believe it,” Yuugi said. The Puzzle felt cold and heavy in his hands. “I…”

As if they had discussed this too, Mahaado suddenly bowed to his Pharaoh and to Yuugi, and left the room without another word. Atemu waited for the door to be closed before he continued.

“We do not belong in this world,” he repeated. “We are barely humans anyway. Gozaburo created us from memories, bodies and minds that he mixed together, virtual and real, and he took away our true souls, leaving us incomplete. We never knew what was really going on, only that something connected us to each other, and in the meantime we did his dirty work. We are responsible for all the destruction around here.”

Yuugi didn’t ask for permission to sit down. He sat on the edge of the bed, on the foot end, and tried to wrap his mind about what Atemu was saying. He didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want any of them to go. He startled when a hand was suddenly put on his, just a few inches away from the Puzzle. It startled him even more that it was Atemu’s hand on his. Who else could it be?

“You were forced to obey his orders. That damned armor of yours! But now.. now you’re making up for what you destroyed,” he croaked out, hoarsely. “You’re redefining this whole town, maybe this whole country as we speak…”

“This is not our homeland,” Atemu said. His finger steered carefully away from the Puzzle, but kept their hold on Yuugi’s hand, gently stroking his fingers. “This is not even our world. We do not know exactly where we came from, but we know where we are supposed to be going to.”

Yuugi wanted to cry. “You just can’t leave,” he said, and the Puzzle dropped from his other hand, the weight too heavy. It landed with a loud thud on the floor.

“We would never fit in. In Domino City, the people might forgive us because they have seen who we really are. In other parts of the world, I doubt that anyone would be grateful to know that we are still alive.”

“Screw them,” Yuugi said rudely. “I don’t care! I want you to stay!”

Atemu was silent for a minute, moving his hand up to brush the golden bangs away from Yuugi’s face. His touch send jolts through Yuugi’s body, and he shivered. He couldn’t handle this…his words, his touch.

“It is not what we want, Mutou Yuugi. We are in pain. I miss Marik and Bakura. It hurts so much. Mahaado misses his family. Karim and the others hide their own sadness. We know of families and friends we have left behind. Even though our memories are filled with gaps and dark holes, we still know that we left them behind, and we want to be reunited.”

Yuugi couldn’t help it, he started to cry. With a jerky movement, he kicked at the Puzzle.

“It’s not fair! You can enjoy the new world! You can restart your life..! You can be whoever you want…” His voice started to fade, dissolving into small sobs. How would he feel if he were in Atemu’s position? Estranged from everything and anything, in a world that wasn’t even yours to begin with? Messed up, fucked up, and missing people you cared about? He felt Atemu’s arms around him in an awkward, but genuine hug, and he laid his head on his shoulder, and cried.

“My beloved,” Atemu said as his hand went up again to stroke Yuugi’s hair in comforting, soothing motions. “You are so strong. You will lead this world into a new era, free from Generals and Pharaohs, free of violence and war. You have freed me, you have freed everyone of us - now it is our time to free the world.”

“It’s not fair,” Yuugi repeated. He felt pain and disappointment, and even anger flowing through him. Something was taken away from him, again, and it was painful to hear Atemu’s voice, painful to feel his arms around him.

“Yuugi…”

“Shut up, shut up!” He wanted to punch him, but Yuugi knew he couldn’t. He regretted his words as Atemu pulled away from him. He didn’t want to end this with a fight. The Pharaoh dabbed at his face gently with an embroidered handkerchief, wiping the tears away. He put the piece of cloth away again, lifting up Yuugi’s chin with his fingers. With the same gentleness, he pressed a kiss to Yuugi’s forehead.

“Your kindness is what will save this world,” he said. “Please bestow this upon me as your last act of kindness, Mutou Yuugi.”

There was nothing else he could do but to nod, even though his heart was crying. From the corner of his eye, he could see the Puzzle, with the Eye facing him. Not of this world. The tears flowed again, and Atemu stayed with him, dabbing at his face, hand in his hair. He didn’t notice Mahaado returning to the room, but didn’t startle when the magician-Priest put his arms around him. It was comfortable, and Yuugi was grateful, but it didn’t take the pain away. It would never take the pain away.

--------------------

The living room had been emptied out of the beds and the other furniture. Only a large table remained, with the seven Sennen Items gathered together on display. On one side of the room, the four remaining Priests were neatly aligned, dressed in their traditional robes, all of them keeping their hands folded, except for Set who had his arms crossed in front of his chest. Atemu stood next to the table, wearing the plain white pajamas. As he couldn’t remember how his royal clothes had looked like, he had chosen for the pajamas, representing simplicity.

Yuugi and his friends – Jounouchi, Otogi, Honda, Anzu and Shizuka – were grouped together, the couples holding hands while Jounouchi had his arm around Yuugi. He was glad for the support – literally, as he was afraid he was going to keel over and fall to the floor if it weren’t for Jounouchi’s grip.

To everyone’s surprise, Kaiba had requested, rather civilized compared to his earlier behavior, to attend the upcoming ‘ceremony’ with his brother Mokuba. Yuugi had granted him permission, of course. He didn’t question Kaiba’s reasons, and Anzu agreed that he could attend if he kept himself calm. In a relatively short time, Kaiba had shown incredible progress health-wise, though walking and standing upright for a long time was still too much for his body to take. That was why the only chair in the room was for him, his brother leaning on the armrest.

“Karim,” Atemu said, his voice calm and low. He reached behind him for the Scales and held it out for the muscular Priest. He bowed before he closed his hands around it, accepting the Item greedily.

“Thank you, my Pharaoh,” he said and disappeared immediately, his body gone in an instant. Atemu caught the Scales before they could fall on the floor and put them back on the table.

“Shaada,” he called out, and the Priest with the turban ecstatically grabbed the Ankh, cradling it for the briefest moments to his chest before he disappeared. From this angle, Yuugi could see the looks on their faces. None of them looked scared or upset; as they touched their Item, pure rapture and bliss was visible, as well as gratitude. Life here in this world truly was painful for them, Yuugi thought. He burrowed himself closer to Jounouchi. At least the Priests had reconciled with their fate, and whatever afterlife there was waiting for them, Yuugi hoped they would find the happiness they were longing for.

“Set.”

The Kaiba-look-alike Priest strode forward, his steps determined. The Rod was his; his eyes locked with the Pharaoh’s one last time.

“Thank you, my Pharaoh.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

Yuugi thought he could hear Kaiba swallow from here, and soft cries to his left were audible. Either Anzu or Shizuka, he didn’t know. His throat felt dry and tight as well, as if someone was cutting off his air supply.

“Mahaado.”

The Ring was for him, as Yuugi had thought ever since he had seen the look in Mahaado’s eyes. Whatever it was that tied them to these Items, it was strong enough to kill them, and strong enough to die for in itself. They had this strong, primal link with these Items; it was almost scary to think how deep that bond ran.

“My friend,” Atemu whispered, and for the first time he hesitated to hand over the Item.

“My Pharaoh,” the magician-Priest answered. “My soul will be your eternal servant.”

“Thank you.”

Neither one of them said or did something for more than a minute; they stood just opposite each other, Pharaoh and Priest. Mahaado leaned into him, tilting his head. Atemu smiled softly, pursed his lips a little and also tilted his head so their noses wouldn’t bump into each other.

They kissed, a warm and gentle kiss, with their lips lingering when they broke up. It hadn’t been forceful and passionate, but sad and sweet, and far too short.

“Paradise awaits you,” Atemu said, his voice a little thick.

“It will await you too,” Mahaado answered confidently, his fingers already clenched around the Ring; he had managed to grab it while they were kissing.
He gazed into the Pharaoh’s eyes and Atemu looked back, completely at ease, with deep affection radiating off of him. The Priest disappeared, but somehow not as abruptly as the others; he just faded away, as if he tried to look at his Pharaoh for as long as possible. Finally, the Ring fell on the floor, clattering, the prongs a dead weight.

Absolute silence reigned the room, and Atemu picked up the Ring, staring at it. His own smile had gone, sadness brimming in his eyes. Tracing the outline of the Item with his fingers, he took his time to return the Ring to the table, and he placed it back with special care; his hand was under the prongs as if to keep them from making any noise.

Nobody said anything, and just a little sob was audible here and there. Yuugi knew there were tears on his own cheeks. It seemed to take hours… he wanted this to end right now and to last forever at the same time. Why couldn’t they stay here and live a happy lifetime after all? It was naïve, it was a daydream, it was an utopia… but he was willing to cling to the last shred of hope with all his might if that meant the Pharaoh and his Priests could stay.

“Seven Items.” Atemu broke the silence, but his voice sounded different. “Guard them well, Mutou Yuugi. They have brought you and the world peace, and so they will, for as long as they remain in good hands.”

To hell with the Items. “Atemu-san…” Yuugi said. “I don’t want you to go. Please.”

Atemu turned around, away from the table, away from the Sennen Puzzle he had been gazing at. The pajamas were a little too large for him, and as he was just as short as Yuugi, he almost looked like a kid, a small child on the verge of doing something dramatic… and knowing fully well what he was doing. There was nothing kidlike about Atemu’s face, which was set in determination. For the first time, Yuugi saw something else but that dreaded blandness in his eyes; hope, and… excitement. As if he was going to be reunited with his family. Yuugi could understand why he would be excited; he would give anything to see his parents and his grandfather once again.

“Please send me to there where my loved ones are.”

He apparently didn’t want to pick up the Item himself. Yuugi took a gulp of breath.

“You want to be send.. where?” Jounouchi asked incredulously. “To wherever those morons are?”

“Jounouchi-kun!”

“It is all right,” Atemu said, and his smile was genuinely warm. He extended his hand towards Yuugi. “I thank you, my friend. I thank you all, my friends. It has been a great honor for me to have spend time with you. You are far stronger than I am, with the kindness and gentleness you have shown to me, to my Priests. With great honor in my heart I will leave you, and think of you always.”

Yuugi disentangled himself from Jounouchi, and for a moment he thought his friend was going to grab him at his shirt to pull him back. Slowly, he made his way over to the table and picked up the Puzzle. It was of no use to try to change the other’s mind. It had been set in stone, and Yuugi thought to himself that maybe one day, he would be as peaceful about it as Atemu was.

“Go then, Pharaoh,” Yuugi nodded and gently hung the Puzzle around Atemu’s neck. His smile faded, acceptance in his voice as he said a soft “Thank you”, soft and tiredly. His hand went to his chest - to cup the Puzzle, his fingers finally finding what they had been searching for all the time.

Anzu was wiping her tears away, while Honda and Jounouchi watched, their faces uncharacteristically neutral. Yuugi was the only one smiling brightly, even though it took all his strength. Even though his cheeks were wet, he didn’t want to cry out loud in front of the Pharaoh. Atemu heaved a sigh and he looked down upon his Puzzle, his fingers cradling and stroking it. Fate already called for him seconds after, and the Item fell, once more, with a heavy thud on the floor.

“I can’t believe it,” Anzu said, wiping more tears away. Honda allowed her to lean on his shoulder, and he stroked her chestnut hair, whispering soothing words at her.

“It’s not like you cared about him, did you?” Jounouchi said but his voice was rather suspiciously strained.

“Onii-chan,” Shizuka said, but her words lacked any scolding.

Yuugi stepped forward to pick up the Puzzle. Its weight didn’t surprise him anymore and he used his other hand to cup it. For a moment he had to fight the urge to hang it around his neck. The Item was still warm where Atemu had touched it.

“He’s really gone.”

“Gone to where his heart would be.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jounouchi repeated Anzu’s words. “That he really wanted to be with those morons instead of Mahaado. Everyone could see from a mile’s distance how much he cared for him!”

“Atemu-san cared for Mahaado-san too,” Yuugi corrected him. He had seen it in his eyes, he had heard it in his voice. “But he cared even more for the other, dark halves of Malik-san and Bakura-san. It was his choice to make, and if Mahaado-san could respect that, so can we.”

“Of course Mahaado would respect it. Atemu is his Pharaoh, he would say nothing that would go against his Pharaoh’s wishes.” Jounouchi muttered.

Shaking his head, Yuugi let him be. He put the Puzzle back on the table.

“What are you going to do with them?” It was Kaiba, from his chair.

“I’ll keep them in a safe place, of course,” Yuugi said. “They’re Items of power, and sooner of later people will get wind of their use. They brought us peace now, at a very high price… and they can also bring us destruction. It’s imperative that they’re stored in a very, very secured place.”

“I can build you a safe and make it hacker-proof,” Kaiba said. “I can secure it so well that no one, but absolutely no one can crack it.”

“Nii-sama’s codes have never been cracked,” Mokuba piped up.

Yuugi almost wanted to burst out in laughter, but he only nodded and let go of the Puzzle, his fingers lingering on the object. Leave it to Kaiba to show his… gratitude in the strangest way possible, but Yuugi was thankful for his help. The Items were too precious to just lie around.

Shizuka dabbed at her wet cheeks and Otogi stroke her hair, fingers tangling in the long, red strands. He looked uncomfortable from what he had witnessed, and was pointedly staring out of the window. Yuugi straightened himself. Atemu’s departure had left a hole in his heart, but there was something else he was feeling. Hope undoubtedly, but also confidence. Faith and confidence, as if the Pharaoh had left him that as a farewell gift.

“We have a lot of work to do,” he said.

“We continue where the Priests and the Pharaoh have left off,” Jounouchi immediately agreed. “We continue to build on the foundations they laid out for us.”

“I will restore the name Kaiba to what it used to be, not in the way of tyrannical power-hungry assholes,” Kaiba said.

“You tell ‘em, nii-sama!” Mokuba cheered.

Honda hugged his girlfriend. “And we’re getting married!”

“Really?” Yuugi asked.

“Well, as of now,” Honda laughed when seeing the baffled look on Anzu’s face. “I was going to propose to you officially, really!”

“All right, that’s it,” Anzu whacked at him. “Kaiba, Otogi, it’s time for you to rest. You’ve been up far too long! No Mokuba, I know what’s better for your brother, so shut up, okay? Honda, Jounouchi - you better be far away when I get back, whose idea was it to…”

She was out the door, dragging Shizuka with her while she gave out her orders. Yuugi watched the retreating backs of his friends, conveniently counting the Kaibas to them as well. They were his friends. With a sigh, he collected the Items, leaving the Puzzle for last. He glanced at it for another time, then he picked it up and with one swift move, he pulled it over his head. The weight felt familiar, and it bumped against his chest. There wasn’t a smile on his face, but he didn’t feel sad either. He felt… invigorated. There was so much to do in such little time, and he was standing at the dawn of a new society, a society he could shape and build, him, together with his friends. Renewed hope flowed through him. It was going to be a wonderful time, with every morning a new, promising dawn. Never a red dawn again.

------------------------------

“What took you so long, Pharaoh-sama?”

He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself… where, actually? It was dark around him, but not an uncomfortable darkness. It was strangely cold, but not numb. A wave of disappointment hit him. He hadn’t really expected to end up in the same Afterlife as his Priests, his family, his friends, or what he could remember of them, but still…he had hoped to be reunited with them after all, that the Gods would have taken mercy upon him. He was surrounded by this strange darkness, but he could see as if it was the light of day.

Bakura reached for him, as well as Marik, and they hoisted him back up on his feet. Atemu didn’t need to take a look at himself to know that he was dressed in his usual outfit, without his armor. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He was happy that Mahaado and the rest of his Priests had made it to the Afterlife, as they deserved it. He was happy for himself, as he was with Marik and Bakura again. It was a bittersweet mixture of pain, happiness, sadness, joy and grief. Atemu noticed that he was squeezing their hands - and that they squeezed in return.

“That took you long enough, pretty Pharaoh.”

“Where are we?”

“Marik thinks we are dreaming,” Bakura snorted. “I think we are in some kind of hell.”

“I don’t even remember how we ended up here,” Marik complained. “All I know is that I fought with someone who looked like me, and he had a pretty Item, and it touched me, and…”

Atemu lifted up his hand, still entwined with Marik’s, and brought them to his lips. “It is all right. We are all here now. Together.”

“You look different, Pharaoh-sama,” Bakura commented without his usual disdain.

“I have a different name. A real name.”

“You found your name? What is it, what is it? Tell us, pretty Pharaoh!”

“My name is Atemu,” he said and smiled at the both of them.

“You are different, Pharaoh-sama... Ate…”

“Whatever you want to call me, it is fine by me.”

Bakura looked at Marik and at Atemu again, as if the gears in his head needed to click.

“Together is fine by me,” he finally muttered.

“Together, yes yes!” Marik had a maniacal grin on his face, but his voice sounded happy.

Atemu squeezed their hands again. “Come,” he said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Work to do? Here? What’s the matter, pretty Pharaoh?”

“Nothing,” Atemu said. “Let’s go. Come on.”

“Does it involve Items? They were pretty, but they hurt me…”

“No, no Items, Marik.”

Bakura snorted again, but he lacked vehemence once again. He hadn’t even thought about Items and stealing them for himself as soon as he had arrived here, whatever ‘here’ was. He had found Marik and together they had waited for the Pharaoh…for Atemu to arrive. He didn’t want to admit how scared he had been that the Pharaoh would never arrive. This was better. This felt good.

They walked in the nothingness, Marik chattering like a six year old, throwing in a ‘pretty’ every sentence, while Bakura sneered at him or corrected whatever grammar or syntax error he made. Both held one of the Pharaoh’s hands, and whereas Marik was squeezing him, Bakura was stroking his fingers. Atemu dictated the pace, walking firm and as striding as he could, but he was still the shortest of the three. Suddenly he froze mid-step, prompting the others to halt as well, confusion on their faces. A warm feeling washed over him, a strange sensation in the back of his mind. He cocked his head and heaved a sigh of relief.

He felt comforted and at ease. He was pretty sure that his Puzzle hung now from Mutou Yuugi’s neck, and that was the best place the Item could ever be. It was safe. He didn’t have that longing for the Puzzle anymore. Strange, but it felt… good. He wanted to be with the other two, and his wish had been granted. They had been redeemed by the love they felt for each other, and one time, they would find the Afterlife and be reunited with everyone again.
He would see the dawn of a new day again in this strange place. Never a red dawn again.

End of Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9-1 | 9-2 | 10-1 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 10/1 [END OF STORY]

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 16:03:18 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

-------------------------------

“Are all the systems back on yet?”

“N-no, Gozaburo-daimyo, it’s very complicated, I guess we have to-”

“Then why are you calling me?!” Gozaburo interrupted the man, spitting at the small screen of the videophone. The entire KaibaCorp. building was equipped with state of the art technology, and he couldn’t accept it that it wasn’t working. Usually he had enough power to keep an entire city running, much less his own building! Usually. But ever since the Pharaoh had summoned a God in his own quarters to… escape – it left Gozaburo a bitter taste in his mouth – the whole building was operating at half, if not minimal, power. The image feed for the videophone was down as well, but the last thing Gozaburo needed to see was the face of the frantic engineer. He could hear the man cowering and sobbing that was enough.

“I can send you a report of the damage on the upper floor…”

Gozaburo cut the connection. He wasn’t waiting for a damage report; he was waiting for the electricity to be at full power again! The morons! Gozaburo stalked away from his desk, almost crushing one of his beloved chess pieces under his foot. With an annoyed grunt, he kicked it away. The servants were even too frazzled to clean his quarters. Everyone was still up in arms about the explosion. It was the most damage the building had ever sustained, and it appeared that the Pharaoh had not taken only one, but two of the upper floors with him. The reconstruction of the floors and ceilings, repainting, reapplying fixtures and cables, the whole works, was going to take time and quite the manpower.

A weak grin appeared on his face. He wasn’t exactly short-staffed, and he could always draw men away from his Elite Troops, if it was really necessary. For now, the redecoration could wait; finding the Pharaoh and Mahaado were top priorities. As soon as he got his hands on that ungrateful little bastard, he was going to choke the ever-loving life out of him, and then make him wear a new and improved armor 24/7. There had to be a glitch, otherwise he would’ve never disobeyed. Gozaburo rejected any possibility that the Pharaoh might have acted on his own, even though he was fully aware of his connection to Mahaado.

He decided to focus on something else. He would deploy all of his Elite Troops, and apprehend everyone remotely connected to that bloody Resistance. If someone got killed… well, that would just be an added bonus. He wasn’t going to waste his time with interrogation and torture. Nobody but their leader was important enough; he wanted to wring someone’s neck.

The orange light from his phone flashed; another incoming call. He grudgingly pressed the button to accept the call. If this was another moron about the damages…

“What is it?”

“It seems that the Generals aren’t in the building anymore, Gozaburo-daimyo.”

“They aren’t... in the building anymore?” His eyes narrowed disapprovingly, a wave of anger welling up in him. “Has anyone seen them leave? Has Set arrived yet?”

“We haven’t seen him, and nobody saw the others leave either.”

“Incompetent morons!” Gozaburo cut the connection again. How dare they… how dare they leave the building without his permission, just like that? Bile rose up in his throat. From all the things he had created, the Pharaoh had always been the best and the strongest. If he allowed himself to think in terms like that, the Pharaoh had always been the most beautiful and the most complex creation. He regarded almost every other creation as a fluke, as a failure, but not ever him, no, not ever his Pharaoh. Gozaburo had taken virtual reality to a new level, and all that he lacked was the knowledge of his adopted son…Seto. With his intelligence and knowledge, he would’ve turned the entire world in a virtual place by now, and there would be no flukes whatsoever - like Marik and Bakura, two idiots who only served one purpose.

With Seto’s programs, the Pharaoh would have been beyond perfection, and Gozaburo himself would be immortal. Once he was, even the creation of the Pharaoh would be nothing more but a speck of dust on his entire lifespan.
Gozaburo frowned as he stared at the blank screen of the videophone. It had always bothered him that the Generals had developed this strong bond with the Pharaoh, ultimately answering to him instead of their creator. There had been nothing he could’ve done about it; the process wasn’t fine-tuned yet, it wasn’t complete. That was why he needed Seto, ironically enough. He couldn’t figure out the flaws on his own. Maybe, as soon as he was immortal, he could spend as much time as he wanted to work out everything. The Generals had their memories - as scattered as they came - the Pharaoh didn’t even remember his real name, for instance. A side-effect, but an unforeseeable one. The only thing he had remembered was his attachment to his fucking Puzzle. Gozaburo caught himself on the swear word, and took a deep breath to calm down again. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t going to lose.

Every one of his Generals had a bond with their Item, a bond that overstepped life and death, literally. Somehow, their ties to the Items were so much stronger than to him - their own creator! Gozaburo sat down in his chair, calmly as he could be. He had to think about this, and made some serious adjustments. It wasn’t too late to salvage this disaster. He had started from the bottom before; he could bring himself up to the top again. He would regain his absolute power, no matter what, and his Generals would return to him, on their knees. As for the Pharaoh… well, he could forget about getting nicely decorated quarters ever again. Gozaburo wasn’t going to reward him for his disobedience. And as for Noa, who had been thwarting him as of late, well, he could forget about…

Once again the orange light of his phone flashed, interrupting his train of thoughts. He should’ve known; with the ongoing panic, apparently everyone’s brain had shut down. Annoyed, he pushed the button and was rather surprised to hear his own son on the other end of the line. They had left each other without many words after assessing the damage; Gozaburo had simply assumed that Noa had returned to his quarters, just like him.

“Father,” he spoke quickly, “Mokuba is gone! He is no longer in my quarters!”

“Why did you leave him alone? Couldn’t you have called for a servant to look after him while you were going upstairs?” No one had a fucking brain around here! Gozaburo’s voice was loaded with disdain and disappointment. Mokuba wasn’t only the next generation Kaiba, but also a valuable pawn. He was the ultimate trick to pull, the last drastic measure to resort to - and now it had slipped through his fingers? Gozaburo hadn’t minded at all that Noa had taken care of the young kid - he didn’t like kids, unless they were as intelligent as Seto and could hold up a decent conversation without dissolving into kiddie talk. That was however, until he discovered how manipulative his eldest son could really be. It wasn’t a secret that Gozaburo didn’t think much of him, and he had actually been surprised that Noa had finally mustered up the courage to go against his father’s wishes…but Gozaburo took pride in always being one step ahead, and he had already prepared plans to remove Mokuba from Noa’s grasp and have him subjected to the same training and education as once Seto had been.

“I told him to hide in my bedroom and to not come out,” Noa bit back. “Who could I have ever asked for to watch after him, when the top of the whole building just had exploded?”

“If you couldn’t have found anyone, at least you could’ve taken him with you,” Gozaburo wasn’t about to be deterred, even though his suggestion was ridiculous. “You let him out of your sight. It doesn’t matter much; he’s probably at the lower levels, searching for his brother.”

“Seto’s laptop is missing.”

“Of course it is! Mokuba isn’t stupid. He probably thought he could get away in the chaos and confusion. Go down to the lower levels. The first thing Mokuba goes searching for is his brother.”

Gozaburo blurted out an extremely explicit word when another light started flashing on his phone. Wasn’t there anyone around here capable of doing something on his own?

“What’s the matter?” Noa asked, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t recall his father ever uttering a coarse word like that. It was almost equal to him being greatly upset, and it didn’t bode very well.

“Speak,” Gozaburo ignored Noa’s question and pressed the button to put the other call on the speaker.

“Gozaburo-daimyo, Gozaburo-daimyo, we have detected a heat source approaching us..!”

It was hard to make out the words as a dozen voices were screaming loud in the background at the same time. He winced from the noise. Gozaburo was about to demand the person on the other end of the line to stay calm and repeat his words, when Noa spoke up.

“He is right, father. Sensors on the building pick up a rapid increase in temperature, coming from the east. What on Earth could that-?”

The line went dead. The weak flash lights on his phone died.

He didn’t even bother to press the buttons and try to re-establish the connection. Gozaburo already knew what was coming and with one fluid movement, graceful in a bizarre way, he got up from his chair and walked to the cracked windows on the east side of his room. Just like the Pharaoh, he had favored a view over the city.

The light was beautiful; there was no other way to describe it. Liquid fire, rolling towards him, such beautiful destruction that it was breathtaking and terrifying at the same moment. The servants wouldn’t know what was going to hit them. They never understood the beauty and the power of the Gods anyway. Noa wouldn’t know what was going to hit him. He was probably trying to re-establish the connection, maybe wondering what the increasing heat could be. Gozaburo almost wanted to laugh. He had strived for immortality, and instead he would die at the hand of an immortal God. He had never thought that he would burn to death; he hadn’t even considered he would die some day at all. Immortality…he had been so close, but now it was out of his reach. The light was so calm, even when rapidly approaching. It was disturbing how easily it was to keep watching in fascination while death was imminent.

It was too late to say prayers. He would never reach the elevator in time. He would never get out of this building in time. The air was thickening, vibrating from the heat. The glass was already heating up, expanding the cracks, and a few drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. Maybe some of the servants would notice the light and be fast enough to escape. But even if they did manage to escape the building, the debris was going to bury them. No one was coming out of this alive. The building was going to be reduced to ashes. It was not much of a consolation that he took at least some people with him in his death. They were just simple servants. He was going to die without any fame to his name, and his immortality would be forever denied.
The cracks expanded rapidly under the increasing pressure of the heat. For no apparent reason, Gozaburo looked over his right shoulder. His chessboard had fallen on the floor, the pieces strewn all around it. Ironically enough, the King stood still upright. The bishop was broken.

It was his last thought as everything exploded, glass splintered, concrete and steel crumbled under the heated onslaught of a divine attack, slashing the building in two. The upper floors immediately caved in, collapsing on top of the lower ones, crashing down like a house of cards. Burning flames engulfed everyone and everything inside, claiming instant death and destruction. And so KaibaCorp. and its ruler was taken down, going under in a sea of red hot violence, its destruction shaking Domino City on its very foundations.

--------------------------------

It took a while before Yuugi realized he was still alive. He was holding his breath, his lungs painfully screaming for fresh air, and slowly, very slowly, he relaxed. Someone had wrapped his or her arms around him, and he was holding onto someone else. When the light subsided, he could see he had latched onto Jounouchi. Anzu had his arms around him, and Honda around her. Next to him was Otogi, and Shizuka was in the middle, wedged between him and her brother. They had formed a protective circle around each other; a unity to shield each other from the blow.

But it hadn’t come. The God, still hovering in the air, faced another direction, not theirs. Yuugi could see its impressive torso, covered with golden armor-like plates and its massive wings, the feathers burning with destructive intensity. Nothing, but absolutely nothing could hurt this God, he thought. It was the more surprising, and slightly unsettling, that the light from this powerful creature was so warm and comforting, almost gentle. Compared to the red dragon they had seen before, it was almost friendly, and Yuugi didn’t understand at all. He did understand however, that they had survived the attack. His friends were all alive; and that was what mattered to him most.

Mahaado was standing close to the Pharaoh, with barely any space between them. He looked down at him, his hand on his shoulder. The magician-General looked relieved.

“Please call the golden God back, my Pharaoh.”

The smaller man looked into the direction the God was facing, his lips pursed. What was he seeing? Yuugi straightened himself to look into the same direction; Anzu immediately tightened her grip on him, afraid the attack wasn’t over yet. Yuugi saw a mushroom shaped cloud at the horizon, a column of immense thick smoke rising up towards the sky. Something was burning, and he had a good idea what was burning. He shivered.

“Never,” the Pharaoh repeated. He didn’t move. His right eye was twitching and his hands trembled a little, but he kept staring at the horizon. Mahaado mentally cursed the armor once more. It prevented the Pharaoh from feeling Mahaado’s touch; the padding was so thick that the touch of a hand was completely lost. The magician-General nodded solemnly.

“Nevermore will Gozaburo keep your Puzzle away from you,” he said. “It is over. It is time to call the golden God back, my Pharaoh.”

“Very well,” the Pharaoh finally acquiesced. “Winged Dragon of the Heavens, return to me!”

With the exception of Mahaado and the Pharaoh, everyone closed their eyes again for the light. Shizuka whimpered as she couldn’t see. She expected another attack to happen and clung to her brother. Yuugi felt Anzu’s fingers dig into his skin, and he subconsciously tightened his hold on his best friend as well.

“Is it over yet?” Jounouchi whispered. He didn’t sound afraid, more like… curious. He was hardly afraid of anything, and he would even accept death from a God if it meant his sister wouldn’t have to suffer. His attention was constantly focused on Shizuka, who tried to tuck herself under his arm, seeking protection.

“I… I am not sure,” Yuugi said.

“Who dares to open his eyes?” Honda mumbled.

“I do,” Jounouchi immediately offered, but Shizuka shrieked.

“No, onii-chan! No!”

“Shizuka…”

“No!”

The girl was too upset, and Yuugi gently disentangled himself from both Jounouchi and Anzu. He caught her peeking at him and he showed her a confident smile, even though he wasn’t feeling all that confident. Jounouchi didn’t look up at him but let him go, knowing why Yuugi had to do this.

It was only a few steps, really, but it seemed like miles to Yuugi. The short distance between him and the Pharaoh and Mahaado was hard to close, even though his heart was filling up with worry. He saw the Pharaoh lying on the ground, and Mahaado kneeling beside him, cradling his head to his chest. The Pharaoh’s eyes were closed and his body was limp, but the magician-General wasn’t panicking. He saw Yuugi approaching, and with a short nod he indicated that it was safe to come closer.

“The Winged Dragon is gone,” Mahaado said, his voice stern and composed as ever. “It has done where it has been summoned for. May all the Gods have been finally laid to rest now.”

Yuugi didn’t quite understand, but he came closer and knelt as well, staring at the man who looked so much like him but wasn’t him. Very gently, he lifted up his hand and touched one of the similar golden bangs, framing his face.

“What happened? Is he...?”

“He needs rest. Summoning a God takes a lot out of him, and I have the firm belief that the armor causes it; as long as he wears it, his usual power is restricted.” Mahaado looked annoyed and suddenly moved up his hand to remove the headpiece. He threw it onto the floor with a disdainful look on his face. “With your permission, Mutou Yuugi, I would like to take him to your Game Shop and give him my bed.”

“We all better return to the Game Shop.” Yuugi was fascinated with the Pharaoh’s similarity, but refrained from touching anything more than his hair, which felt strangely rough and tangled. Mahaado made a non-committal sound of agreement, slowly getting up and straightening himself, visibly wincing from his bad leg. Yuugi helped him to support the Pharaoh, and he turned around to his friends and yelled: “It’s okay! Everything’s okay!”

He didn’t wait to see their bewildered, confused faces, but was grateful for Jounouchi immediately running up to him, Shizuka in tow.

“Need any help? What happened?”

“Could you get him into the car?” Yuugi asked. “We’re going back to the Game Shop, all of us.”

Jounouchi scrunched his face up in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “You want him in the same place you are? Yuugi, sometimes I think you’re really-”

“It does not matter anymore,” Mahaado brusquely cut him short. “You will not have to fear anything of Gozaburo ever again. If I had any way to reward you, I would, but I can only give you my gratitude if you could please take my Pharaoh to the Game Shop and…”

He was abruptly interrupted himself, not by Jounouchi who still looked incredulous at the thought of even touching the Pharaoh, but by a piercing scream.

“Nii-sama! Nii-sama!”

Otogi, who had joined Jounouchi to see if he could help out too, suddenly hissed “Kaiba!” and ran towards the car. Yuugi immediately followed him, leaving Jounouchi to cry out an indignant “Hey!”. He picked up the Pharaoh anyway and ran after Yuugi as best as he could, Shizuka holding on to his shirt, and Mahaado struggling to catch up, his bad leg hindering him.

“He’s not breathing anymore! Do something, Otogi!”

Yuugi didn’t know the kid, and the name ‘Kaiba’ send immediately shivers down his spine. The boy couldn’t be much older than ten or eleven, and he had tears in his eyes as he tugged at the other’s clothing. It was the first time that Yuugi actually got a good look at the other Kaiba, and he was taken aback by his condition. Horror filled him at the thought what had happened to him, and he immediately wanted to help him, only he didn’t know how. Otogi, who was pretty much at the end of his rope himself, leaned a little into him and pressed his fingers against Kaiba’s neck to search for a pulse.

“Come on man, you have come this far… Come on!”

“Move over, Otogi,” Anzu said. She pushed him away so she could reach for Kaiba herself, her fingers professionally searching and finding the best place to check for his pulse. She frowned as everyone remained silent. The younger Kaiba bit back his tears, visibly shocked and upset. His hands were fisted in Kaiba’s shirt and he still tugged, as if he could shake his brother into consciousness again.

“He’s alive,” Anzu said and she sounded amazed herself, “but he needs an IV and medical care right away.”

“We all go back to the Game Shop, right now!” Yuugi repeated. “Anzu, you can drive – can you reach the Game Shop from here?”

“Yes I can, provided the roads aren’t blocked,” she said. “But I need assistance as soon as possible when I get there.”

“Let me go with you, Anzu-san,” Shizuka piped up, her voice slightly wavering. “I can help you.” She had assisted Anzu before and had no trouble following up her orders; despite her visual handicap, she worked fast and precise.

“I don’t have my supplies,” the girl answered. “We took everything with us when we left the basement. I lost my bag after the first attack of the God.”

“We’ll search for it,” Yuugi said urgently. “We all carried supplies with us, not everything can be lost. We’ll join you as soon as possible at the Game Shop!”

“All right,” she bit on her lip. “Mahaado, get in the backseat, you can hardly walk.”

“But.. my Pharaoh…”

“You can have him on your lap for all I care,” she said, sounding just as stern as he could be. “Otogi, you, get into the car as well. Shizuka, you can take the passenger’s seat.”

“But that’s way too many people,” Otogi said.

“You want to walk?” Anzu snorted, eyeing his frail physique. He was in need of medical attention too and walking the entire way back to the Game Shop could prove to be too much for him. “Squish onto the backseat, right now.”

“Why are you grinning so much?” Jounouchi asked Honda who had been remarkably quiet, but was grinning like a loon.

“Nothing, I just like my girl taking charge,” he said and laughed out loud at Jounouchi’s face.

“I’m going to be in a car!” Shizuka clapped her hands enthusiastically, distracted from the earlier events. Her brother helped her into the seat, fastening the seatbelt for her. Mahaado, the Pharaoh and Otogi were all on the backseat, together with the Kaiba brothers, ‘squished’ indeed as Anzu called it, but they had no other choice. She started up the engine, and searched out Yuugi while she shifted the gear.

“Don’t take too long,” she mouthed, and the car moved – she didn’t floor the gas because driving too fast with all the injured people in the car wouldn’t be for the best. Yuugi didn’t answer and just watched her go. He felt alone all of the sudden, but not an inch less determined to find and retrieve their supplies.

--------------------------

“Oh, come on…”

Anzu turned at the faucet, but no water was coming out. Heaving an irritated sigh, she turned around and dipped her towel into a bucket, wherein water had been stored. It wasn’t as fresh, but it served only to wet her face a little. She couldn’t recall the last time she had slept for more than two hours, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes.

“You better get some rest, Anzu-chan.”

“Says the one who slept even less than I did.” She snorted, but not disdainfully.

Yuugi leaned against the doorpost of the kitchen and remained silent. He needed the support to stay upright, as he was about ready to keel over. Together with Anzu and Shizuka to a lesser extent, he had been up and running to tend to everyone’s wounds almost 24/7 these last few days. To add to the stress, a lot of people had turned up at the Game Shop, confused about what had happened and whether the days of the dictator were truly over. The Resistance was known to give shelter to anyone, and people were still afraid and uncertain. Reliable news sources were hard to find and there were many rumors flying around. Witness after witness reported however, that the KaibaCorp. building had been destroyed by a huge ball of fire. No one assumed that anyone made it out alive, yet some Resistance members searched all around the premises to see if they could find Gozaburo or his remains, to rule out that he’d been able to escape.

“I can’t wait until the water is back on again.”

“It’s such a chaos,” Yuugi agreed. “It will take a while before this society is functioning again as it should be.”

“Such a legacy,” Anzu shook her head and dropped the towel on the kitchen table, “we’re going to need the rest of our lives sorting this mess out.”

“We’re going to sort it out the good way,” Yuugi said. “We can always ask for help from the United States. They managed to escape Gozaburo’s tyranny. No one ever will seize such power here again.”

“I hope so.” She was a natural optimistic person, but her experiences in this hard life had forced her to become more cautious. Her smile was soft yet filled with faith.

“I only need to visit the Pharaoh before I’m done,” she continued. “Then I’m ready to call it a night.”

Yuugi nodded. “How’s Kaiba?”

“He’s doing all right, considering the circumstances.” Her smile faltered. “If it had been an hour later…”

“Yeah.” Yuugi knew what she wanted to say, but left the words unspoken. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken them too long to find a few of their scattered bags and bring everything to the Game Shop. Jounouchi and Honda had immediately gone back to search for the rest, but with the supplies from the retrieved bags Anzu had been able to treat the most urgent patients: Kaiba, Otogi and Mahaado who had lost a considerable amount of blood.

“I’ll check up on the Pharaoh. You go to bed, all right?”

Anzu hesitated for a moment, but the thought of sleep now that the most important patients had been taken care of, won over.

“All right. But don’t hesitate to call me in case you need me, hm?”

“I won’t.”

She brushed past him as she left, and he waited for another minute before he detached himself from the doorpost. Mustering up the last of his strength, he forced himself to make another round and check up on the patients. It was early evening, but both he and Anzu had gone for the past 72 hours with very little sleep. He was ready to crash himself. He didn’t have much to eat either; they were low on everything, with barely any supplies left. Otogi had brought some provisions with him along with the Items, but most of it had been reserved for the patients. Yuugi needed to be very careful with the distribution.

It was so very strange - the house was filled from top to bottom with people. Yuugi had allowed everyone to stay upstairs, especially Kaiba, Otogi, Mahaado and the Pharaoh. Concerning the first two, it would be too much to ask of them to move downstairs, to a chilly basement. Weakened and prone to infections as they already were, that kind of environment could prove to be their death. Ironically, the white sheets Yuugi had used to cover all the furniture with, had been turned into bandages. The ones who escaped being torn, were used to cover the beds of the patients, as they were originally intended for. Yuugi had thought that seeing all the furniture uncovered, his careful preservation of a moment in time ruptured and disturbed, would upset him greatly; but either he was too tired to care, or his emotions had been numbed throughout the years. He had felt barely bothered, the sadness not eating at his heart as he expected. Memories of his parents and grandfather were still the same, and keeping everything covered had weighed him down, instead of allowing him to move on.

Yuugi slipped into the living room and picked up the small, yet heavy golden box from a shelf in the corner. Despite dealing with the patients, inquiring people and general commotion, he had managed to take a peek inside the box. His earlier thoughts were confirmed: it was filled with pieces, the pieces of a golden puzzle. With the box in his hands, he crossed the living room and went through the door to the hallway with the adjacent bedrooms.

Halting at the second door to the right, he wasn’t very surprised to see Mahaado still awake. The former magician-General, with new, clean bandages around his leg, had firmly insisted that his bed should be given to the Pharaoh. He would be fine to sleep on the floor. Anzu hadn’t pressed the matter even though sleeping in a bed would be much better for his leg; as his situation wasn’t life-threatening and she was too busy with the other patients, she had simply left it at that. When Mahaado wasn’t on the floor, he sat in the chair next to the dresser, a blanket wrapped around him, keeping watch over his Pharaoh.

This time, he had pulled the chair close to the bed, blanket loosely wrapped around him. He was stroking the Pharaoh’s hair, using a comb he had dug up from somewhere. He carefully worked out the tangles in the multicolored strands. There wasn’t enough water or cleaning products for everyone, so even the Pharaoh’s hair was still matted, giving him a rather wild, unkempt look.

“Is he asleep?” Yuugi asked softly as Mahaado put the comb away and rose to his feet, shifting the blanket so it wouldn’t fall off of his shoulders. Despite his bad leg, the magician-General stood straight up, a defensive shield between Yuugi and his Pharaoh.

“He has been, for most of the time. His dreams have been… brutal on him.” Mahaado’s eyes were focused on Yuugi, darting for a mere second towards the golden box and then back to his face again. He had used his heka to completely destroy the Pharaoh’s armor, and ever since the artificial suppression had been cancelled, the Pharaoh had suffered very vivid and haunting nightmares and dreams. Yuugi wasn’t sure why exactly this was happening or what to do about it; but it pained him to see Mahaado in pain. He felt responsible for his Pharaoh’s well-being and was at a loss.

“Marik and Bakura are gone,” Mahaado said and his voice lowered a few octaves. For a split second, Yuugi thought he heard ‘Malik and Bakura’, and his heart clenched painfully together. He hadn’t seen them return to the Resistance. “They were connected in a certain way to my Pharaoh that I could never dream of attaining. I wish, but…” He shook his head.

“He feels that they are gone?” Yuugi inquired.

“What they shared went beyond normal comprehension,” Mahaado explained. His fingers plucked at the blanket. “To us, they were his bodyguards and ‘care-takers’. To many, they were just revolting, despicable dark creatures who reveled in pain and mocked everything and anything. To him…” he looked at the Pharaoh, “they were more than the world and the entire universe.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuugi said.

Mahaado shrugged as if he couldn’t care less, but Yuugi had seen his eyes. He felt truly sorry for Mahaado, and he wondered if he could give him a hug. He took a few steps and put the golden box on the dresser. Just as he was about to turn around and say something, the Pharaoh shifted in his bed, bleary eyes opening.

“My Pharaoh,” Mahaado was quick to greet him, and bowed.

“My Priest,” he answered, voice a little hoarse.

“Yes, your Priest,” Mahaado whispered, and lowered his head. He tugged the blanket closer around himself, his fingers clenching at the fabric. “Do you need anything, my Pharaoh? Is there something I can get you?”

“I am fine,” came the answer, followed by a short cough. Mahaado rose and picked up a bottle of water. He poured a little liquid into a cup. Anzu and Yuugi had distributed the water, and judging from the looks of it, Yuugi was fairly sure that the former magician-General hadn’t drank anything himself. He patiently waited until Mahaado helped the Pharaoh to drink, and supported him to sit upright, fluffing the pillows behind him.

“Thank you, I am all right.”

Yuugi was pleased to hear the Pharaoh’s voice; it was low and even, so much unlike the mad, angry and upset tone he had spoken in before.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said.

The Pharaoh looked at him, slightly disturbed as he took in his appearance. There hadn’t been an opportunity for him to say anything about their striking similarities before, and it had to puzzle him. And talking about Puzzles…

“I brought you your Item,” Yuugi said. “It has to be assembled. You can’t touch it right now, though.” He exchanged a quick look with Mahaado, wondering if the Pharaoh and his Generals were aware that touching their Items meant the end of their existence. Isis.

“How long will it take before it is assembled again?” the Pharaoh asked.

“I don’t know. It seems to be a very complex, intricate structure. I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

It was surprising to hear him say that spontaneously, and Yuugi smiled. It had been for the best to remove that horrible armor; the Pharaoh was indeed a whole different person without it.

“Where are the others?”

“I am sure the other Priests will arrive anytime soon, my Pharaoh,” Mahaado said. “We will be reunited at last.”

“My court will be together again.”

“Not quite, unfortunately… Isis has... left us.”

He looked confused. “She did? But how… my court cannot be complete without the six of you. I…”

“My Pharaoh, we can never be complete, I regret to say.” Mahaado sounded sad. “Two of us have already left, and things have changed. The world has changed. We have changed.”

“I do not understand…”

A knock on the door, and everyone looked up. It was Jounouchi, who peeked through the open door, his hand on the doorpost. Yuugi knew it was going to take quite some time to get used to look at his friend’s hands without flinching; just like Honda, Jounouchi had refused any treatment for his burned skin. The scars would remind them for the rest of their lives of Osiris’ attack, but maybe that had been their reason…to keep their battle scars as a reminder of how bad it had been. Yuugi respected their decision, but had difficulties to refrain from flinching when he saw the marred skin.

“Malik and Bakura are here to see you, Yuugi.”

“Marik! Bakura!” The Pharaoh shot up straight in the bed, his eyes bewildered, stretching his arms. “Are they here? Where are they?”

“I am sorry, my Pharaoh, but those are not… the ones you know.” Mahaado tried to calm him, meanwhile throwing a murderous glare at Jounouchi. The blond was less than impressed and stepped to the side as Malik entered the room, followed by Bakura.

The Pharaoh gaped at them, and the disappointment was visible on his face. He calmed down, his lips drawn into a tight line, his shoulders slumping, and arms falling back on the bed covers. Malik ignored him and went straight to Yuugi, holding out his hand. When Yuugi in a reflex held out his hand as well, Malik reached behind his own back, unhooked the Sennen Rod and placed the Item in Yuugi’s hand.

“This is yours.”

“The Sennen Rod,” Mahaado said, reverently.

Bakura followed Malik’s example and stepped forward, casting a nervous look at the Pharaoh before handing Yuugi the Ring.

“The Sennen Ring…” Mahaado’s expression changed, from interest to pure…
greed. His eyes were attached to the golden object with the prongs, now lying in Yuugi’s hands.

“Thank you,” he said. He was very glad to see them again; he hadn’t been sure about what had happened to them. Bakura averted his head from the Ring and stared pointedly at Malik, who took off his coat and dumped it on Mahaado’s chair.

“My sister told me a lot about our family,” he said, tone of voice low, the grief audible when he spoke about Isis. “A lot, but not quite enough. Many mysteries have shrouded our family, have divided our tribe. She didn’t know everything, and we weren’t able to retrieve every piece of information. What she did tell me, was that our tribe was cursed to carry certain marks… for a crime committed in a past, long long forgotten ago.”

Jounouchi had stepped away from the door, but he hadn’t left. Just like everyone else present, he was hanging onto Malik’s lips to hear the rest of his story.

“I don’t know a thing about this crime, but I was punished for it, rather painfully.” He grimaced and took off his sweater, handing it to Bakura who took the garment from him. “On my back, they carved certain… things that would remind me for the rest of my life of this crime, and I was forcefully instructed to pass this on to my own children, should I have any.”

“How…” Yuugi started, but Malik shook his head.

“Your name is on my back, Pharaoh,” he said bluntly. “No one can read it, because the knowledge of this language has been lost since centuries. From father to son, they butchered and carved the word into each other’s flesh as best as they could.”

Mahaado looked like he was going to throw up. The Pharaoh’s face was set in stone, a hint of disbelief coloring his eyes, while Yuugi’s jaw had dropped in horror and shock from Malik’s story. Bakura plucked at Malik’s sweater, obviously having heard the story before, even though he avoided looking at his friend. Jounouchi shook his head almost unnoticeably.

“I will show it to you.”

He took off his shirt and promptly turned around, showing the Pharaoh his back. A heavy silence reined the room.

“Can you read it?” Yuugi asked softly, but curiously.

“Yes. Yes I can,” the Pharaoh answered, sounding incredulous. “Mahaado?”

“I cannot, my Pharaoh.” His voice held an ashamed tone to it. There was another minute of silence, until the Pharaoh spoke again.

“Atemu. My name is Atemu.”

“That is a wonderful name,” Mahaado sighed.

Malik turned around again and put on his shirt, grabbing his sweater from Bakura’s hands. The Pharaoh looked upset, his face pale. Mahaado held the blanket around his shoulders, his fingers compulsively clenching and unclenching. No one spoke, and the silence became uncomfortable. As soon as Malik had finished dressing, Yuugi urged him and Bakura out of the room with gentle gestures. Outside, he thanked Malik for what he did.

“I can only hope it helps him, somehow,” Malik said as he put on his coat. “We won’t be staying around to find out, though.”

“I thought as much,” Yuugi replied. “Are you really sure you don’t want to stay, just for a little longer?”

Malik shook his head in time with Bakura’s.

“There’s plenty of space,” Jounouchi piped up, suddenly. “We can make space for you.”

“Thank you, but we have to go. We have done what we were supposed to do, and that’s it for us.”

Yuugi looked at the both of them. Bakura kept his black trench coat obsessively closed, his hands clutching at the torn and ripped fabric. Yuugi wasn’t really sure if some of the stains on Malik’s shirt were dried blood or not, and they weren’t in any condition to travel. He tried to convince them once more.

“You’re injured,” he said, “and your clothes… at least stay to get some rest and regain your strength.”

“We’re fine,” Malik spoke for the both of them. Bakura was silent as ever, but his eyes never left Malik.

“Where will you be going to?” Jounouchi asked.

“My homeland,” was the short answer and Malik was about to turn around, when Yuugi opened his arms. The other frowned but gave into the hug nonetheless, a look of slight awkwardness on his face. He put his arms quickly, but firmly, around Yuugi before withdrawing again.

“Thank you for everything. Good luck, Malik-san.”

“Thank you,” he answered, a little strained, and stepped to the side so Yuugi could approach Bakura for a hug.

“Thank you too, Bakura-san. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Bakura said, his soft voice hardly strained, and he didn’t withdraw from the hug that quick either. Yuugi couldn’t tell if Bakura wanted to stay and rest up, but Malik was obviously the one in charge. Still, he was convinced that Bakura and Malik would make it; wherever they were going – to the Middle East, judging from Malik’s skin color – they would arrive safely.
Jounouchi didn’t hug them but nodded in respect. Malik and Bakura left, their footsteps on the stairs the only sound for another minute until complete silence reined again. He coughed behind his hand.

“I’ve seen a lot of weird things,” he said, “but those two take the cake.”

“Malik-san and Bakura-san have grown up very differently than we did,” Yuugi said good-naturedly.

“I think there are just a few screws loose with blondie…”

“At least he has a good friend in Bakura-san.” He stifled a yawn.

“You’ve been up for ages. Why don’t you get some sleep? Me and Honda can keep an eye on everything. You’re about to keel over.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Jounouchi-kun. Just another word to the Pharaoh and I’m off.”

“All right. I’ll tell people not to disturb you.”

Yuugi went back into the small bedroom, noticing that the Pharaoh was lying down with his eyes closed. Mahaado had resumed his position in the chair, watching by his side.

“Thank you for everything you have done for us,” Mahaado spoke. As soon as his voice filled the room, the Pharaoh opened his eyes again.

“You’re welcome,” Yuugi said and smiled. Yes, they were both welcome. After everything that had happened, Yuugi wasn’t the one to hold grudges; he believed in second chances, and he also believed in the good nature of people. Jounouchi had called his view naïve and unrealistic, but these moments made it all worth it.

“How do you feel, Atemu-san?”

“My name sounds strange, yet familiar,” he answered, showing a very small smile. “It… it is wonderful to know that I do have a first name. For a long time, I thought I did not have one. It was always Pharaoh this, Pharaoh that…Bakura called me Pharaoh-sama, and Marik always called me ‘pretty Pharaoh’…”

It was impossible to miss the pained look on Mahaado’s face, but it wasn’t until then that Yuugi noticed that they were holding hands – as in, Mahaado had Atemu’s hand between his own, fingers gently caressing. Judging from the former Pharaoh’s relaxed posture, Yuugi assumed he didn’t mind at all.

“We have overheard a little of your conversation,” Mahaado said, pointedly steering away from the topic. “How he spoke of returning to his homeland.”

Yuugi nodded. “Yes, now that Gozaburo is gone, I’m sure that traveling and traffic will increase once again, and that the world will slowly recover from the wounds he has torn.”

Mahaado remained silent, and it felt uncomfortable. He cocked his head. “Why? Have you decided…”

“None of the Generals belong in this world.” It was Atemu who spoke.

“That is what Isis-san said as well.”

“She was wise,” Atemu sighed and brought up his other hand to rub his nose. “Her visions told her about the future, and she was wise in her interpretations. The reason for her defection was not to give you information, but to tell us that things were coming to an end.”

“Did you really believe she betrayed you?”

“I never believed she did,” Mahaado answered hotly at the same time Atemu nodded.

“Gozaburo said that she had defected, that she had willingly searched out the Resistance to give out information. I believed it, because I… I believed Gozaburo.”

“My Pharaoh, your rationality and your independent thoughts were blocked, distorted, by that armor you always wore,” Mahaado chided him gently. “Gozaburo’s grip was firm on you, and you were not able to break it. Not until now.”

“His days are over,” Yuugi reminded them, “and ours are only beginning. I will assemble your Puzzle while you rest, Atemu-san.”

“Thank you,” he said as his eyelids drooped. Mahaado tucked the covers around him as Yuugi left, stifling another yawn. The last room on the right was reserved for the Kaiba brothers. Yuugi had learned both their names properly – Seto and Mokuba – from Otogi, and he couldn’t help but peek inside as the door was open. This had been his grandfather’s room. It didn’t hold much furniture besides a bed, a cupboard and a small desk. The makeshift bed on the floor was intended for Mokuba, but everyone knew the kid crawled into the bed with his brother just to stay close to him.

Once more he was very grateful that he and Jounouchi had managed to find some of Anzu’s bags. One had contained everything necessary for the IV. It had saved Kaiba’s life, providing him with the much needed nutrition and fluids. Anzu had also treated his chafed and sore wrists and told him to rest; his body would need time to heal, and he would feel weak for a while. Kaiba had been too far gone to protest but as soon as he regained consciousness, his eyes had been alert and bright, and there was nothing weak about his glare.

“Good evening, Kaiba-kun,” Yuugi said. For a change, Mokuba was in his own bed, already asleep. Only the top of his mass of black hair was visible as he had curled himself completely into the blankets. Kaiba was awake, propped up by pillows, his long, thin fingers spread on the pages of a book, lying between his bony knees.

“Evening, Yuugi,” he said curtly. He was still a ghost of his former self, with his hollow cheeks and sickly-pale skin color. Anzu was convinced he would recover completely in time, with the help of good and balanced food. Yuugi couldn’t wait for the other to gain some weight and strength – it was disturbing to see someone who had been on the brink of starvation.

“Do you have any confirmation on Gozaburo’s status yet?”

“People are still looking for him, but it’s safe to say that he went under with the building,” Yuugi answered. “The God was… very thorough.”

“What a shame I missed it.”

Yuugi grimaced. Kaiba’s body had given out on him at the moment the God had launched its attack. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak. Tired. Slow. Cranky.”

“You’re going to feeling like that for some time to come...”

“Yes, I know.” Kaiba lifted up his hand with the IV. “She told me all about it.”

“You have time enough to recover,” Yuugi said. “You can stay here for as long as it takes.”

Kaiba snorted, but didn’t comment, nor said any thanks. He dropped his hand back on the book again, the small movement demanding too much of him.

“My father… or whatever he was, is gone. Heh. I longed for him to die. I wanted to kill him with my own hands, preferably. I don’t feel the tiniest bit of remorse, but I hadn’t expected this chaos.”

“We’ll rebuild the world,” Yuugi said. “It’s not going to be easy, and it won’t happen in two weeks, but we’ll get there.”

“Are you always this damn optimistic?”

“Why yes, I am,” Yuugi beamed at him. Kaiba grumbled something incomprehensible in return and closed his eyes.

“Good night, Kaiba-kun.”

“Go to bed, Yuugi.”

He had to chuckle, dissolving into another yawn and Yuugi quickly left. He took the stairs up to his attic room. He hadn’t been here in a long, long time until recently, when the house had filled up with injured people. He had spend his youth here, until Gozaburo and his Elite Troops had turned the world upside down. So many victims, so much sadness… but now there was hope and faith for mankind. This world was going to be rebuild, and there would be no more pain, no more sorrow. Yuugi undressed himself and slipped under the sandy colored covers. He was so tired that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

-------------------------------

Continued here

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9-1 | 9-2 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 9/2

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 16:56:03 GMT

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 9/1

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 16:53:05 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, major character death!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

--------------------

Maybe this situation would’ve been amusing to him, if it hadn’t been for the Item around the neck of his doppelganger. Bakura was careful – it never paid off to rush into something head first – as he didn’t know his opponent. Their faces and physique were almost identical, but were they also the same in mind and soul? If so, his opponent would prove to be tough, and he would need all his wits and strength to defeat him.

His eyes were all but glued to the pendant. An Item. A veritable Sennen Item, and he wasn’t the only one. That other kid, the Marik look-alike, also had one! How could that be? Hadn’t the Generals searched all over the world for these Items? If only he could get his hands on them… Marik would never part with it if he managed to get one, he loved everything gold. Bakura licked his lips. He had enough tricks up his sleeve to get what he wanted. He wanted to achieve his goal, and with two Items, he could definitely turn the tables around. He didn’t want to be a General himself, far from it, but with two Items, no one would ever boss him around like a mere servant or bodyguard. Who knew what more he could use the Items for…

Licking his lips again, Bakura forced himself to look at his opponent, not at the Item. The other hadn’t said a word since they ‘met’, but kept staring at him. Chocolate brown, soft eyes. Compassionate eyes. Bakura wanted to gag. His doppelganger was a lot friendlier on the eyes, his similar bone-white hair framing a gentle face with soft, almost caressing strands. Bakura shook his head. That he even used these words to mentally describe the other, it was downright sickening.

“Who are you?” He demanded to know. This was a bad joke, a distraction! He didn’t believe in ‘darker side’ of the soul, he was the one and only Bakura.

“Bakura Ryou,” the other answered calmly. The Ring chimed, but it could also have been a simple gust of the wind; the sound send chills down Bakura’s spine. There was something strange about this Item – Bakura craved it the instant he saw it, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that this Item wasn’t for him… for anyone of them. What nonsense!.

“You bear my name, and you look like me, what do you want from me?”

“Your life.”

Now this was amusing; Bakura would’ve howled with laughter if these ominous, unsettling feelings weren’t plaguing him. The other Bakura sounded deadly serious. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you suggest you are going to take it?” He had the advantage of the shadows, unless this other Bakura had the same powers. Had Gozaburo crafted two similar creations, and was one of them a fluke? No, that couldn’t be. If Gozaburo had created the other Bakura as well, he wouldn’t have given him an Item. Everyone knew that Gozaburo wanted the Items for himself. He licked his lips once more, anxiously.

“You can’t use your shadows against me,” the other Bakura announced. “I am the other part of your soul, and therefore you cannot hurt me, nor can I hurt you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bakura growled instinctively, and his hands went to his pockets. He had enough knives on him to slice anyone apart – and he wouldn’t hold back on this weird doppelganger! He was going to kill him, and take his Item and hang it from his own neck in victory!

He had two knives out when the sky was brightly lit with an intense, golden glow. He didn’t stop to watch or to marvel at it, even though the other Bakura, slightly confused, looked up, wondering where the light was coming from. Fool! He was wide open for an attack, and Bakura lunged at him, knives flickering in the same, golden light.

-------------------------------

“You’re going to cut yourself, pretty little one.” Marik hid a short chuckle behind his hand, even though his eyes never left the young boy coming towards him.

“I know exactly how to use this,” Malik said. The dagger felt heavy in his hand, heavy yet… disturbingly comfortable. In his mind, he had played this particular scene over and over again, ever since Isis had told him. She was dead because of her visions, those visions he had hated for all his life. He couldn’t deny that they all had come true, and he had hated Isis, the Items, the Gods, everything, for it. He hated that she had become a General, working for that bastard of a Kaiba Gozaburo, and giving him no explanation but the infuriating “My visions have shown me that I have to do this”. Malik had felt alone all his life, darkness eating at his heart, hatred consuming him. His sister a General, his adoptive elder brother killed by the Elite Troops, his hatred had grown so much that it had given birth to an entire different personality - the one that was standing in front of him, listening to the same name with only one letter different. Marik.

He wasn’t going to be fooled by those bland, pupil-less eyes. Isis had told him how strong the other was; hatred and darkness fueled him. Malik forced his breathing under control – he had to be in perfect control. He had to remain calm. If he got angry now, he was going to ruin it for everyone. Ruin it for the whole world. It creeped him out to look at Marik’s face; when relaxed, he almost looked child-like with his flawless skin and small lips pursed. His eyes were darting back and forth, curiously following him.

“You’re going to cut yourself, pretty little one,” Marik repeated. “Kiddies like you shouldn’t be playing with nasty, sharp daggers.”

“You’re the kid here,” Malik snarled. Calm. Keep yourself goddamn calm! “You were created from me, from my family, and you have brought nothing but pain and misery.”

“I don’t even know you,” Marik answered, offended. “This is the first time I meet you! Why all the pretty hatred, pretty little snotty kid?”

“Stop it,” Malik said, relieved that his voice sounded calm, yet stern. “You’re nothing but a creation, so you can be killed. Your darkness won’t taint this world any longer.”

“I haven’t done a thing,” Marik complained, but he shifted his stance and his muscles tightened, tensed. He didn’t clench his fists, but kept his fingers curved, claw-like. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Enough with this shit,” Malik replied and moved a little to the side. They were close to each other; just a few steps away. They circled around each other, Malik’s eyes on Marik’s claw-like hands, Marik’s eyes on Malik’s Sennen Rod. They were gauging each other’s reaction, taking in each other’s strength, estimating each other’s weak points. At first sight, Marik appeared physically stronger, but Malik had the advantage of a stabbing weapon.

“Enough it is, then,” Marik taunted him. “So, what are you waiting for, mm? Stab me. Come on, stab me, pretty little fucker. Stab me and make me feel pretty pain-pain-pain, let me see pretty blood, let me see pretty bones. Come on then!”

Maybe it was the mocking tone of his voice, maybe it was the tension, or because of Isis’ recent death. Anger possessed Malik, even though he had tried to suppress it. He all but jumped forward, his hand reaching for Marik while he raised his other hand with the dagger up high, ready to plunge it in. Marik was faster and turned just a little, catching the full brunt of Malik’s weight and smoothly moved with him, throwing him on the ground and immediately rolled over, his nails sinking into his skin and slicing, blood immediately welling up.

Malik cried out in pain and frustration. He hammered down with his hand, stabbing Marik in the shoulder blade. The excited cry of pain that elicited the other shocked Malik, even though he should’ve known - Isis had told him that his dark side thrived on blood and pain. He had no time for analysis. Marik grabbed Malik at the throat, sharp nails embedding into his skin.

“You’re so fucking dead,” he growled, his other hand grabbing Malik’s arm with the Sennen Item. His body trembled from the pure excitement of the pain, and his breathing was heavy from pleasure. Blood dripped from his shoulder, blood, such a pretty sight and he wanted to taste it, smear it all over his face and drink it, but for now, he had this pesky kid to deal with.

Suddenly the sky was brightened, and he immediately sat upright, pinning Malik between his legs to hold him down. His mouth fell just a little open when he realized what the light exactly was, and he smiled – not his usual deranged smile, but a fond, longing smile, of someone who had been waiting for a long lost lover to return.

“Pretty golden God,” he whispered.

-------------------------------

Kaiba bit on his bloodless, chafed lips and refrained from grunting. His fingers were clasped around the steering wheel, and he forcefully avoided looking at them. He had a vague idea about his bad condition, and he didn’t want to be confronted with his bony fingers. The leather of the steering wheel felt hot to the touch, but he had been through so many unpleasant situations that he couldn’t care less; a little heat was nothing compared to being starved to death. What little food he had managed to keep down was his only source of energy, as well as a few glasses of that carbonated drink Otogi had found, fueling his system with caffeine.

He knew that something else was also fueling him: anger, because of what Gozaburo and Noa had done to him, and a burning, passionate desire to see those two dead, or at least punished for their crimes. Gozaburo had ruined everything what the name and the person Kaiba stood for, and even though it wasn’t his ‘real’ family name, he felt attached to it and he felt the need to defend it against his adoptive father’s warmonger. Look at what Gozaburo had done to the world, to the population, to this city – Domino City should be filled with people, with traffic, with kids, with adults. The empty streets and their bad condition were signs enough that Gozaburo didn’t care for this world, he didn’t care for anything but his own goal to reach immortality. Kaiba snorted.

Otogi sat next to him in the passenger’s seat, with Mokuba in his lap. Mokuba was the one to apply pressure to the gas pedal, and would operate the brakes as soon as Kaiba nudged him. Otogi held his hand on Mokuba as he was in an awkward position, wedged between the dashboard and the shift stick; but at least he could reach the pedals. It was either Mokuba or Otogi, and the latter hadn’t felt anything for crawling between Kaiba’s skinny legs to put his hands on metal pads that were foreign to him anyway. He had never been in a position to learn how to drive, though he wasn’t surprised that Mokuba actually knew the basics. Otogi could have enjoyed the car ride, really – it was quite amazing to travel this fast, and the car itself was fascinating – if not so terrible much depended upon it. He glanced at the backseat for the umpteenth time, his ponytail smacking him in the face. Kaiba’s precious laptop and the bag with the Items and the rest of their provisions were strapped into the seat belts, but with the speed they were going at, Otogi didn’t trust them to stay where they were. The roads hadn’t been maintained for years, and he lost count of the numbers of bumps and potholes. His ass felt sore and bruised, and he didn’t want to think about what Kaiba was feeling; with his skinny body, he would feel each and every little obstacle.

“That we even managed to get this car,” he said for the fourth time. Mokuba turned his head around and beamed at him. The kid was having fun with this dangerous ride!

“Nii-sama can do anything!” He cheered, and pressed his hand further down on the gas pedal, speeding the car up some more. “It wasn’t as hard as you thought, right?”

It had been Kaiba’s brilliant idea to block all the elevators but the one they were using, rushing down to the garage that was unlocked due to the power fall-out. Otogi thought he was going to collapse and die from dragging Kaiba all over the place, but he had been able to muster enough strength to get everyone in the car, including the laptop and the bag with Items. Neither one of them had any idea of how much fuel was left in the tank; Kaiba had made the choice for the convertible without elaborating his choice, eliciting loud cheers from Mokuba because he wanted to feel ‘the wind blowing through his hair’. Well, the kid had his wish fulfilled, and was probably regretting his choice now that he was stuffed between the dashboard, his brother’s legs and the pedals.

“How much further is it?” Kaiba gritted through his teeth, and this was the first time Otogi could hear the pain he was suffering. Any moment now, Kaiba could collapse from sheer exhaustion, and Otogi didn’t need to be a nurse to see the bad situation he was in.

“Hold on,” he said. “We’re close now, we’ve almost reached the city.”

“You said that five minutes ago,” Kaiba sneered, but kept his eyes on the road. They had passed a few signs with ‘Domino City’ on it, but the actual distance had been unreadable. Otogi had difficulties with his orientation; he had never approached the city from this side. Which way was the quickest one to the Game Shop?

“Really, just really close,” Otogi said and tried to recognize any of the roads and buildings he saw. His grip on Mokuba shifted a little, and the kid slid almost entirely under the steering wheel.

“Heey! I don’t want to get stuck here with my head!”

“Watch it,” Kaiba barked and he tugged at the steering wheel. The car moved towards the left, hitting a bump in the road that send them flying off of their seats. If this had been anything but a convertible, they all would’ve hit their heads.

“I’m sorry, nii-sama,” Mokuba whined from down below.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kaiba grumbled but it was so low and soft that only Otogi could overhear it. He was sure it was only meant for him, and he winced from the bump. He glanced quickly at the backseat, noticing that the laptop and the bag with the Items were still there, much to his relief.

After another few minutes, he gave a sudden yell.

“All right! See that building over there, to your right? You have to take the next exit!”

Domino City High had been the municipal school, but it had been long deserted. Its principal building with a large tower was however a typical landmark; an easy recognizable landmark for everyone. The tower used to hold a clock, which had disappeared; Otogi took it that the clock had been used to announce classes and the start of the school day. Just like driving a car, Otogi had been deprived of going to school like a normal kid, and many others with him. It was another thing that Kaiba Gozaburo had destroyed for them.
Kaiba grumbled again but followed Otogi’s ‘order’, as he took the next exit and drove downhill, towards a large intersection.

“Let go of the gas, Mokuba,” he said. His hand grabbed the stick and he shifted into a lower gear at the same moment Mokuba took his hands away from the pedal. The engine howled and the car slowed down considerably. The roads in town were in even worse condition than the highway, and Otogi kept his eyes peeled for any obstacles – Kaiba was beyond exhaustion. They were running out of time, and they had come too far to crash at the very last second.

“Straight ahead,” Otogi said, adrenaline rushing through him. He had managed to escape the KaibaCorp. building, he was still alive, and he was soon to be reunited with his friends and the Resistance! Passing the intersection, they drove into the northeast direction for another few minutes, until Kaiba suddenly called out: “Hit the brakes, the brakes!”

The car came to an abrupt halt, and Otogi almost smacked into the dashboard. Annoyed, he wanted to yell at Kaiba for the sudden stop, but he refrained from commenting as he saw the large crater in front of them. Large parts of the road were just… melted away. Mokuba used the opportunity to climb back into Kaiba’s lap. He winced visibly from his younger brother’s weight, but didn’t protest.

“Good call,” Otogi muttered. He had misjudged the size of the crater, and from up close he could see there was no way they could drive past it. He could still see wisps of smoke rising up from it. He didn’t know what or who could have caused this… but it meant that they had to find an alternative route, and his mind was already going over the possibilities.

Kaiba pulled at the stick, shifting it into reverse. “Gently, very gently push the gas pedal,” he told his brother, his voice hoarse. Mokuba answered with a sincere “Yes, nii-sama!” and slid back into his previous position, ducking under the dashboard. Very slowly, the car backed up, enlarging the distance between them and the smoldering crater…

“Wait! Wait!” Otogi almost whacked Kaiba in the face.

“What?”

“Wait!” Otogi pushed at the car door in an attempt to open it. He muttered under his breath when he couldn’t get it to open fast enough and quickly, he hoisted himself out of the car. He swung his legs out of the car while he dumped Mokuba unceremoniously, eliciting another “Heeey! Watch the head!”.

“What the hell is he doing?” Kaiba leaned against the steering wheel, his chest heaving. He was so tired, and his body ached all over. His eyes followed Otogi nonetheless, and he didn’t understand why he was running straight for the crater, taking a turn to the right at the last moment, waving maniacally with his arms.

Mokuba got up again, an annoyed frown marring his face. He looked over the edge of the dashboard. “What’s going on? Where did Otogi go to?”

“I don’t know.” Kaiba shrugged and leaned into the steering wheel. Not very comfortable, but he could rest his chin on the wheel and close his eyes…so tired…

“Nii-sama, there! People! Over there!” Mokuba’s voice was loud, and he opened his eyes again. He looked into the direction Mokuba was pointing to, and despite everything, his lips turned into his characteristic smirk. We made it.

------------------------------

Running as fast as he could, past the immense crater, Otogi waved and yelled frantically. He had spotted people, and his hopes went up significantly; please, let it be members of the Resistance! Even if they weren’t, they would probably know where the members were, wouldn’t they? It had to be! He couldn’t make out if they were male or female; two people, huddled together, walking at a very slow pace - and he could see why, as the taller one was limping.

“Heeey! Heey!” He yelled, trying to get their attention. “Wait! Wait!”

His heart fluttered when they indeed halted. Hopefully they could tell him where Yuugi and Shizuka were!

“Have you seen…” He skidded to a halt when the smaller of the two turned around, revealing herself to be a woman, face smudged and dirty, her hands and arms showing abrasions, matted strands of her short chestnut hair plastered against her cheeks.

“Anzu..!”

“Otogi!” She yelled and she almost dropped the man she was half-carrying, half-dragging. Otogi recognized him immediately and was quite surprised to see the magician-General right here, but he moved towards Anzu to give her an awkward hug. She moved her free arm around him, grabbing at his shirt, and she laughed out loud, slightly hysterically.

“We were so worried about you! We thought… Gods, we thought that you were dead! After we didn’t hear from you for so long…”

“It’s all right,” Otogi said, hugging her close one more time before letting her go. His eyes darted automatically towards the magician-General, who was dressed in his rather formal robes. Strange that he wasn’t wearing his usual armor. To his surprise, he noticed the man’s leg all bandaged up, a hue of blood visible through the fabric.

“Otogi,” Mahaado said, “have you seen the Pharaoh? Please…”

He shook his head regretfully. “I managed to get out of the KaibaCorp. building, buy we haven’t seen anyone since.”

Anzu didn’t pick up on the ‘we’ and patted with her hand all over Otogi, the nurse in her at work.

“You’re suffering from malnutrition,” she said, frowning. It was a good thing she hadn’t seen Kaiba yet. “Who did this to you? You need extra vitamins, minerals and…”

“Anzu, please, not now,” Otogi said. “Come, we have to get back to the car.”

“Car? You arrived here by car?”

“I have the Kaiba brothers with me,” he said and she froze on the spot.

“What? What in the world, Otogi..?”

“No, not Noa,” he quickly said. “It’s too much to explain now, but we need to get back to the car. Only then we can find the Pharaoh. I fill you in as we go, all right?”

She trusted him unconditionally, but her face showed a deep, puzzled frown when she followed him. To speed up the process, Otogi took Mahaado’s other arm and swung it over his own shoulders, supporting the magician-General. It earned him a surprised, but genuine grateful look, and Otogi simply nodded in return. Frankly, Mahaado would hold them up for too long if they kept the previous slow pace up; furthermore, Otogi had seen the patch of blood on his leg increasing. Judging from all the fabric Anzu already used to bandage it, Mahaado wasn’t the only one in need of professional, medical assistance.

As they reached the crater and made their way past it, Otogi feared for one split-second that Kaiba had driven off. He couldn’t see the car until Anzu poked him in the ribs, squeezing past Mahaado to do so.

“Over there!”

Relieved, Otogi guided them towards the vehicle with the engine still running. Kaiba had parked the car next to a wall to get out of the hot sun, and he glared at Otogi when he saw who he had with him.

“You idiot, why do you bring a General with you?” Even with his voice raspy and hoarse, Kaiba sounded like a commander - almost as much as Gozaburo. Mahaado lifted up his head when he heard the voice, but his surprise wore quickly off.

“I expected you to not die anytime soon, Kaiba. Whatever they tried to get out of you, they never got it, did they?”

“No they didn’t,” Kaiba answered stiffly and Mahaado chuckled, dissolving into a groan when Anzu abandoned him, leaving it to Otogi to support him. She closed the distance between her and the car with three firm steps.

“What on Earth happened to the both of you?” She asked, voice shrill, staring aghast from Kaiba to Otogi and back again. “It’s a miracle you’re still breathing! You’re dehydrated, malnourished - no, you’re completely emaciated, and…”

“Save it,” Kaiba barked. “Get into the car if you all must tag along and hurry up about it!”

“I wish I had still my supplies with me,” Anzu said and continued poking Kaiba, suddenly taking his head into her hands and forcing him to open his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing, woman?” He managed to croak out before she pulled at his tongue.

“You’re in no condition to drive. Get into the backseat, I’ll drive.”

“You can drive?” Otogi asked dumfounded. Mahaado leaned heavily on him, trying to find an easy stance to get the weight off of his leg.

Anzu nodded. “My father taught it to me before he… well, he thought it would come in handy. He wanted me to be able to take care of myself as much as possible. He hated being dependant.”

“We need to find the Pharaoh, please,” Mahaado interrupted. Anzu tugged at the door and opened it, almost causing Mokuba to roll out. He showed her an apologetic smile, which she immediately returned, smiling widely.

“At least someone is completely safe and sound!”

Otogi avoided looking at her charred skin. Both her and Mahaado had been the victim of… something, maybe an explosion, even though the magician-General hadn’t suffered any burn wounds. Whatever had happened, it was horrible - but they didn’t have the time to stand still and think, they had to be on the move.

A short discussion spawned between Anzu and Kaiba about who was better fit to drive, which ended with a loud “You’re going to kill everyone because you’re dying behind the wheel” from Anzu, who by then unbuckled Kaiba and helped him out of the car, propping him on the backseat before he could even protest. Otogi had to suppress a snicker. It was the first time, and probably the only time, that he saw Kaiba Seto obey, and a woman to boot - he sat in the back of the car, eyes widened in shock that he had been bossed around. Mahaado came to sit next to him, with Mokuba wedged between them. The kid didn’t mind the magician-General’s presence, if he already paid attention to it. He latched onto his brother, and even tried to make him eat something from the provisions they had brought.

Otogi ignored Mokuba enthusiastic babble on the backseat and turned towards Anzu, who had buckled herself up and moved with her hand over the shift stick, her feet on the pedals.

“All right, let’s see… gas… brakes… yes, yes, I think I got it!” She stepped onto the gas pedal, the engine roaring with power. She grabbed the shift stick and looked at Otogi.

“I don’t know where Yuugi is,” she said, her eyes showing a brief glimpse of sadness before turning a little distant again. Compassion could get you killed on the streets, but Anzu would rather die than abandoning her friends. “I can take you to the place I last saw him.”

“That’s fine by me,” Otogi said and his breath hitched in his throat. A bright light washed over them, and Anzu cried out in surprise, lifting up her hands to shield her eyes. Mokuba tried to crawl into his brother’s lap, scared. Mahaado’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock.

“Oh, this is bad, this should not be happening,” he moaned.

“What’s going on?” Otogi found himself oddly staring into the light; despite its intensity, it was easy on the eyes. Anzu moved her hands away, staring as well. The light was golden, almost warm, almost.. friendly, inviting.

“Drive,” Mahaado hissed. “In name of the Gods, drive!”

Anzu looked bewildered from Mahaado to Otogi, but her hands clasped the steering wheel and her foot pushed the gas pedal in. The car sped forward and they raced into the heart of the city.

-------------------------------

“Holy fuck… holy fuck.” Jounouchi stared at the giant bird-beast that had spread its wings over Domino City. He and Honda looked at the… creature, baffled, and finally he snapped his jaws shut.

“Another God,” Honda was quick to understand, “just as we thought we had managed to survive one..!”

“Oh man…”

“What do we do now? We need to find the others.”

“We were going after the Pharaoh, and so we’re going after him,” Jounouchi smacked Honda against the shoulder, but not too harshly. He wanted to find his friends as well, as fast as possible; he hated not knowing if they were injured or not from the previous blast. At this moment however, the Pharaoh was the biggest threat; if they didn’t stop him and his cursed Gods, people were going to die.

“What about Yuugi? Shizuka, Anzu…”

“They’re alive,” Jounouchi said. “They are! We go after the Pharaoh and we take him out. Without him, the God will disappear! Come on Honda, we can’t stay here any longer!”

He grabbed his friend at the arm, dragging him away. Honda looked over his shoulder and freed himself from Jounouchi’s grasp.

“What about them?” He nodded with his head, obviously torn between following Jounouchi and helping out Malik and Bakura. Jounouchi was speechless for a moment, trying to make the right decision. Malik rolled over the ground with his look-alike, both screaming and yelling in anger, even though some of the screams seemed more excited than anything else. He shuddered. From the vigor Malik was stabbing the other with, the man should have been dead ten times over by now, but he simply laughed, and screamed some more. He was the one moaning in pure delight. Jounouchi shuddered again.

Bakura on the other hand… Bakura was just staring creepily at the other Bakura. They weren’t even moving. There was barely any distance between them, and they just kept staring… until the Bakura in the black trench coat looked up at the sky to stare at the golden light and the summoned God, and the other Bakura lunged for him, knife in his hand. Jounouchi saw the attack and his body was on the verge of taking a sprint and jump between them, to break up the fight… but he restrained himself and turned around, just as both Bakura rolled over the ground, a surprised cry ringing in his ears.

“This isn’t our fight,” he said grimly. He didn’t know what Isis had told her brother and his friend. He had barely interacted with the woman at all, and large parts of the conversations about the Sennen Items and their effects had been wasted on him. He had caught wind of the ‘dark halves’ and that it was a job that could only be done by Malik and Bakura. “This is their fight, and if we don’t find the Pharaoh and keep him from doing what he’s doing, we’re all going to die.”

Honda pursed his lips. He knew Jounouchi was right, but he didn’t like running away from a fight, especially when he thought the fight was unfair. They didn’t know how strong those doppelgangers were, so how fair could this fight be? Malik and Bakura weren’t his intimate friends, but they were part of the Resistance as they had showed their willingness to help and take on these dark look-alikes, and that was enough for Honda

“Let’s go,” Jounouchi all but growled, feeling frustrated himself for exactly the same reasons. He started to jog, away from the fight, and didn’t look back, not even to check if Honda was following him.

“He can’t be far,” Honda caught up with him, keeping up with the pace. His eyes darted from the buildings to the ground, spying for rubble on the pavement so he wouldn’t trip.

“He must be close to the God,” Jounouchi agreed. The others couldn’t be very far either, or so he presumed. The blast had flung them all away, enough to disperse them, but not far enough to be completely out of reach. Gods, he hoped he was right. He would take more burn wounds from a blast if that meant he could get closer to his friends; and as long as he didn’t know if his sister was safe, dying wasn’t an option for him.

They went around a corner, slowing down as the street was filled with debris. Climbing over a particular large chunk of concrete, Honda slipped and fell. He tumbled on top of Jounouchi, both losing their balance and smacking to the ground.

“Smart move, asshole,” Jounouchi muttered as he touched his jaw, then stuck his finger into his mouth to cheek his teeth. To his relief, he didn’t encounter any blood, so nothing was broken, not even chipped. Honda dusted himself off as he got up, glaring at the offending concrete.

“It would be so much easier to walk through the streets if all that debris wasn’t there!”

Jounouchi got up as well and held his hand above his eyes. The light was much more intense here, but he could still easily look into it. It felt… warm and comfortable, like a blanket, even though the God-beast itself was nothing but menacing. How strange… there was no time to pursue this train of thoughts, and he resumed his earlier jog.

“We’ll search in squares,” he said, “from block to block, until we find the Pharaoh or the others.”

“We’re not that far off,” Honda answered, also noticing how the light grew more intense.

It took them only a few blocks to find someone – not the one they had been searching for in the first place, but the one most important to Jounouchi. Shizuka was standing close to a sturdy wall, a little huddled in the shadows, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

“Shizuka!” He cried out, forgetting that there probably was a very good reason why she was hiding in the shadows.

“Onii-chan!” Shizuka lost the same precaution, straightening herself immediately and running in the direction of his voice. He opened his arms and embraced her, lifting her up from the ground.

“Shizuka, are you all right? Are you alone? Where’s Yuugi?”

“Onii-chan,” she said again and ruffled his hair. “My hand… my pinky finger. It hurts. Something scorched me, and it burns and itches…”

Honda and Jounouchi both looked at her hand and the makeshift bandages. “Anzu will have to take a look at it,” he said.

“You found Anzu-san?” The girl got all excited. Jounouchi wished he would have thought his words over instead of giving his sister false hope.

“She’ll probably be around here somewhere,” he answered sheepishly and berated himself mentally when he saw the disappointment on Shizuka’s face.

“Yuugi-kun is over there, he was going to check something out,” Shizuka lowered her voice. “I think that Pharaoh dude is close by…”

Honda snickered at hearing Shizuka use the same reference to the Pharaoh as her brother, which wasn’t all that surprising. The warmth and light was pretty intense here, even more than they felt previously.

“Over there, where?”

“He went to the north,” Shizuka pointed out. “He told me to stay here. We were only the two of us. I was waiting for him to return.”

“All right, stay here,” Jounouchi said. “We’re going to see if we can find Yuugi.”

Shizuka immediately latched onto him, her fingers clenching at his torn clothing. “No!”

“Shizuka, it’s far too dangerous,” Jounouchi tried to persuade her. “There’s another God, and…”

“Is that where the… heat is coming from?” She sounded confused. “It feels so calm and gentle, like a sun caressing your skin.”

Jounouchi and Honda exchanged quizzical looks. ‘Calm’ and ‘gentle’ wouldn’t be exactly the words they would use to describe the God, even though the warmth was comfortable. They were able to see the God, Shizuka wasn’t. Jounouchi took his sister by the hand and pulled her even closer.

“All right, you can come with us,” he said. If they were going to die, be it because of the God or anything else, they would be together, not separated. Honda looked like he understood. Jounouchi felt a wave of pity for him; Anzu’s whereabouts were still unknown, and he knew his friend’s thoughts were with his fiancée.

“Let’s go!”

-------------------------------

He sat upright, just staring at the bright light, an infatuated look on his face.

“Pretty golden God...” he repeated, dropping his hands in his lap. He had forgotten about Malik, about the fight, and everything and everyone around him, only the light and the God mattered to him.

Malik breathed heavily from the exertion. He was on the ground, skin chafed, clothing torn, pinned down by the other’s legs. He could barely move but twitch his torso a little, and he already knew that trying to push the other off of him was of no use. Marik was too strong to be simply thrown off. Malik stabbed his counterpart’s leg, but as Marik was completely entranced by the appearance of the God, he barely registered the pain. Malik touched his own throat, feeling the bruises form on his skin. This was no of use. He had apparently lost the fight even before they started; how was he supposed to battle his dark half anyway?

He tried to get his thoughts straight. There had to be a way he could use Marik’s distraction to his advantage. So much anger, so much hatred. Isis had died in vain; she had died when she had touched her Item. It made no sense. According to her, that Item that belonged to their family in the first place. She had been so evasive, refusing to answer all of his questions. Malik had loved his sister dearly, despite her being a General, despite her being on Gozaburo’s side. He had still loved her even after Rishid died in an attack from the Elite Troops. His brother… he could cry when he thought of Rishid who had been adopted into the family a long time ago. He had fought for freedom, for his own existence, for Isis to be safe and free from Gozaburo’s claws…

Sometimes Malik thought that Isis had killed Rishid, if only to keep him from getting too close to her, and trying to prevent her from doing what she had to do. Her visions had shown her that she was going to defect to the Resistance, hand them the Items, and then… die. Her body had simply disappeared, leaving him literally with nothing to hold. She had died in his arms, sharing her last moments with him. Why hadn’t she told him everything? Why had she only said that he could do this, he could make the darkness go away, without elaborating? The Item wasn’t even working on him! Malik had stabbed Marik numerous times; he should have been long dead by now! Only blood was flowing… blood.

Lifeline. Blood was the lifeline of one’s body. Blood was what Malik had tied to Isis, their family blood, Ishtar blood. Separated, diffused, created… this was different. The other part of his soul, who was bleeding but didn’t feel pain, and when he felt pain, he enjoyed it. Malik had never enjoyed pain. He knew why this other one had been created. Hatred and anger, sadness and pain.. but they weren’t brothers. They weren’t connected by family ties or blood. Malik opened his eyes, knowing that he was on the right track.

“Pretty golden God,” the other repeated and now that he was still distracted, Malik plunged the dagger into his right upper leg again and let go of it, leaving the Item embedded in the flesh. Marik’s body shook a little, shocked by the sudden movement, and he looked down, amused.

“You tried that before, pretty little thing,” he sing-songed. “It didn’t work. Beautiful little me, you’re so pathetic. I have to kill you. I’ll kill you with my hand on your pretty little neck and I’ll snap it. Yes, yes, that sounds perfect.”

“You can’t kill me,” Malik said. “Because you are a part of me. Killing me would mean killing yourself. But then again, you already are dead. You have never lived. You are a creation. You are from my mind.”

“You talk pretty shit,” Marik answered brusquely. He lowered his right hand to grab the Item. “I have never seen you before in my life.”

“I have seen you countless of times.” Malik all but smiled. “Pretty hatred, come back to me.”

Marik narrowed his eyes and yanked the Rod out of his leg, undisturbed by the blood flowing from the injury. He lifted it up, the dagger dripping with blood. With an inhuman growl, he lowered the Item, the dagger aiming for Malik’s head, right between the eyes – when he suddenly halted. His arm refuse to move, and the tip of the dagger was just an inch away from Malik’s skin. He didn’t dare to breathe, but there was no fear in his eyes.

“Pretty hatred, come back to me.”

“No.” Marik stared at his hand, clutching the Item, trying to move. “What… how? I can’t come back to you. I don’t belong to you…”

“You belong to someone else,” Malik answered, “but you don’t belong in this world. Your time is up, darkness of my soul. I accept you and your hatred as a part of me, to complete my soul again.”

The eye attached to the sphere of the Rod started to glow as if he had spoken a magic word. Marik stared at it, confused yet curious, until he suddenly got scared.

“Take it away from me,” he cried out, “take it away from me!”

Malik moved up his hand and took the Item simply out of Marik’s hand, the sphere still glowing. Marik was unable to move, but Malik could – he moved away from under him, relieved when he was standing up again, ignoring the pain he was feeling. He held the Item high, but reached with his other hand for Marik.

“Time to go.”

“Time to go?” His voice was child-like.

“Yes, time to go.”

Their hands touched, and the next moment he was gone. No body, no blood, no nothing… Malik didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He had expected something more grand, something earth-shattering perhaps, and not something… as silent as this. Staring at the Rod, the glow had worn off, and he didn’t feel any different than before. He still was angry, almost feeling an urge to kill, but he squashed that train of thoughts. Malik quickly looked around to see if he could find the end cap of the Rod; he had dropped it just before the fight had started.

----------------------------------

Continued here

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle, part 10 [END OF STORY]

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 17:29:42 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence.
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Key: ----------- = scene change

----------------------------

Cold, isn’t it?

“Duo?” Heero opened his eyes slowly. There was no bright light or darkness; he was surrounded by something resembling a fog, a grey fog. No black or white, just...bland grey, as far as he could see. It was cold indeed, a numbing cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, vaguely noticing that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Strange, how he was somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Where am I..?”

Did he say that out loud, or had he just thought it? No sound reached his ears, yet he was quite certain he had moved his lips. He wasn’t shivering, despite the cold - he pinched himself in the upper arm, but he didn’t feel any pain. His skin was just as pale as Shinigami-Duo’s had been; it was almost translucent. It scared him.

It bothered him that he couldn’t determine his whereabouts. Heero was very precise, and it confused and angered him that he didn’t know where he was, why he could see nothing but this grey…sea of nothingness. There was always a way out, there had to be - he had been with Duo in many dangerous situations before, and they had always found a way out. Always.

Empty, isn’t it?

“Who’s talking?” Heero barked and was taken aback by the weird, echoing volume of his own voice. He looked from the left to the right, but there was no one around him; no one, nothing, nothing at all. He amazed himself that he wasn’t panicking. He turned around to see if anyone was there, but he accepted fairly calmly that he was all alone in this strange fog, this macabre world of nothingness.

“Yes, it is,” he spoke again, this time his voice much lower. Maybe he could draw out the one who had spoken? “If you would show yourself, it wouldn’t be so empty.”

A soft chuckle. Someone was laughing at him! Heero didn’t waste his energy by looking around once more. He was starting to get painfully aware that he was naked. His pale skin, the cold, the bland environment, it was getting to him.

“You’re very calm for someone to be in this place,” the same voice spoke and Heero recognized him - of course, how could it not be? Shinigami stood in front of him as mysterious and fast as he had moved before. Heero felt his hopes falter. This was Shinigami. This was the God of the Death with the face of his beloved, and he was so beautiful. Despite the black lips, the deep, soulless eyes and the pale skin, he was beautiful with his long hair unraveled, framing his heart-shaped face, the dark wings protruding from his back flowing and folding around him protectively. The scythe he was holding didn’t emit that green light in this strange place, but showed dark colors instead. Some kind of liquid seemed to run off the blade, a small droplet of - he steered his thoughts quickly away from it.

“Usually, the recently deceased are welcomed by those who went ahead of them,” Shinigami spoke. His scythe also seemed to have shrunk in size, but it was still an impressive height. The large robes he was wearing were decorated at the edges with dark maroon and burgundy red patterns of unknown craftsmanship, giving him the allure of a high priest. A deadly high priest.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Heero asked. His heart turned cold.

“They are welcomed by their family or loved ones to guide them to their final destination. I could not find anyone to welcome you here, Heero Yuy. That must be very, very, lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Heero stammered. Shinigami raised his eyebrows.

“You’re sorry for what, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “If there was someone…” He had never known his real parents, and as far as he knew, his adoptive father was still alive. Odin Lowe had passed on his love for history and archaeology to him, and had worked hard to pay for his education. Heero visited the man once in a while, as they didn’t have a very intense father-son contact; however, he was sure that in case of Lowe’s passing, he would’ve known.

The God of Death shifted his stance, leaning casually on his scythe. His robes flowed and were lifted by something invisible, a wind that surrounded him only. It was Duo’s body, it was Duo’s face, yet it was not. It was confusing and painful to see. Heero couldn’t deny his beauty and kept staring at him. I can’t be dead…I have to find Duo. Please.. don’t let it be that way…

“Shinigami,” Heero said, voice slightly wavering.

“Yes?”

“You granted passage to Khushrenada and Merquise,” he said, standing straight, showing his usual confidence. “I ask for passage for my friend, too. Please let Duo go. You can take my body instead.”

He tilted his head like a curious child, and for the first time, the God of Death showed a real, albeit wistful smile.

“I miss my Inochigami,” he said. “Why should I leave the body that has foolishly assembled my scythe? Now I can look for my beloved, and you ask of me to give it up?”

“No,” Heero shook his head. “I ask you to take my body instead. You can search for your Inochigami all that you want, but please let Duo go.”

“You are in the realm of the dead,” Shinigami said, and this time his smile turned cruel. “I have no business with your body. You cannot fool me, though I commend your passion to save your friend.”

Realm of the dead. Heero moved his hands up to his chest, and touched his skin. Even though he couldn’t feel the pain, he felt cold liquid drip over his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding from a gash in his chest. Where the scythe had…cut him.

“No,” he whispered. “I…can’t be dead.”

“In some cultures, it was a real honor to see the God of Death in person,” Shinigami said, his eyes traveling to the gaping wound on Heero’s chest back to his face again. “They welcomed my embrace and my kiss, and would fight to be in my arms when their moment was near.”

“I want Duo to be alive,” Heero said and blinked. He was crying. Why wasn’t he feeling the pain, why didn’t he feel the heat of his tears? He was aware of them, of the salty streak on his cheeks, just as he was aware of his blood, tainting his fingers. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“He awoke me when he reassembled the scythe. He started the Never-Ending Circle again, but failed to reunite Death with Life. So there will be only Death.”

“Would you listen to me if I told you about the Never-Ending Circle and how it was uncovered?”

Shinigami looked up, pensively, but didn’t respond.

“Would you listen to me if I told you we tried to keep it away from people who wanted to do harm with it?”

“The one you call Duo found it and reassembled it. His anger and sadness summoned me.”

“Sadness,” Heero repeated. “Solo.”

“His brother welcomed him,” Shinigami nodded.

He was running out of words. He was running out of options. He was running out of…life. Heero wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. If he was truly dead, why was Shinigami talking to him? To honor him with his presence, before finally whisking him away, to a destination unknown? If he was really dead…

“I promised I would find Duo, and I found you,” he said, a bitter tone to his voice. “You are Duo, you’re using his body. I won’t go anywhere until I have Duo back. That’s a promise too, Shinigami.”

“Like I said before, you humans are amusing.” There was no amusement in the God’s voice, he looked tired and annoyed. “I broke my scythe out of frustration because you humans started slaying each other and reveled in the power of taking lives, of tasting blood. The dignity of death and helping the souls to cross over was brutally taken away from me. My power was gone; my reason to exist was gone.”

“I understand your anger,” Heero said. Anger. ‘His anger and sadness summoned me’. “You responded to Duo because he was feeling anger too?”

Shinigami pursed his lips, as if he had given away too much information. He shifted his grip on the staff of the scythe.

“Everyone feels anger. Even you, Heero Yuy. You are mad at me because I am here, not your Duo - but it was you who invited me in.”

“If it takes my life to get Duo back, then I would invite you again and again.”

“You would lose your life, but your Duo would live. You would gain nothing.”

“I made mistakes. I wasn’t there the moment he needed me the most. Solo… when he died, I couldn’t be there to comfort Duo…”

“You are crying,” Shinigami said, interrupting him. He moved his hand, lifting it up, long, slender fingers pointing at the tears glistening on Heero’s check. “Why?”

“I guess I’m scared,” Heero said. There was no need to hold back for the God. Why should he lie or cover up, knowing that he was already dead? He wanted to fight for Duo, to secure his life…what happened to his own, wasn’t important.

“Why could you not be my Inochigami,” the God answered, and he sounded defeated. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying because of what he was, but at this moment, Heero was convinced the God was almost human. Shinigami was simply longing for the one he had shared his entire life with.

“I can be your Inochigami,” Heero said, and left his most obvious thought unspoken, but he knew the God knew. As long as you let Duo go.

“We parted, my Inochigami and me,” Shinigami said and he chuckled again, albeit humorless. “My temper got the best of us, just like the one you keep calling Duo. Temper temper humans, for the Gods can be volatile and violent as well. I am old, young one, and I have a task at hand that needs fulfilling.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you pity the God of Death?”

“No. I feel sorry for your loss, and for my loss. I wish I could see Duo again and hold him.”

“You love him.”

“I absolutely do.”

“My loss,” Shinigami repeated, softly.

“You should rest, Shinigami,” Heero said. “This world is not for you. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you will find the one you love.”

Shinigami showed the same, wistful smile again. “Maybe. I will find him, one day, no matter what day. I will always find him, even if this world is not meant for me, or for him.”

Silence. Heero wiped at his tears, relieved that no fresh ones had fallen; he felt embarrassed to cry in front of Shinigami, though he was sure the God couldn’t care less. He tried to wipe at the blood on his chest, but it didn’t disappear. The cold and the stress of the moment were getting to him, and his knees buckled.

Shinigami took a step forward and his hand with the scythe shifted, the impressive blade lunging menacingly towards him. Heero took in a deep gust of breath. This was it. This was really, really it. Duo. I have done what I could…He closed his eyes.

Something pressed against his body. Something cold, and rough, and he could feel its weight. The silence compelled him to open his eyes again - he didn’t understand what was going on. Shinigami stood so close to him that their lips could touch; Heero was so shocked that he even didn’t take a step back. Almost instinctively, he lifted up his arms; not to embrace the God, but the scythe that was pressed against his chest. Dark, depthless eyes searched out his own.

“If you can find your Duo before I find my Inochigami, all will be restored.” He didn’t show any emotion, and pressed the scythe even tighter into Heero’s arms. “As soon as you find him, have him break the scythe. I will return to sleep, until the next fool reassembles it again.”

The God faded slowly away in front of him; he hadn’t touched Heero.

“Wait! How can I ever find him?” He cried out.

Shinigami didn’t answer, but simply disappeared from view. Heero’s knees buckled under the weight of the scythe, and he gritted his teeth. He had to find him. He had to find Duo. Why had Shinigami given him this chance? Why…why?

How was he moving? He couldn’t see his feet. He didn’t even know if he was walking. He had to stay calm and look for Duo, and find him. Heero clenched the staff, his fingers scratched by the rough wood.

I will find you. I promised.

How could he find Duo? Inochigami. The God of Life. And what if Shinigami found his Inochigami, all would be lost after all…it couldn’t be! It was so cold, everything was so numb and bland, and he couldn’t see if he was making any progress. He played Shinigami’s words over and over in his mind again, but he couldn’t pick it apart, couldn’t find any clues hidden in what the God had told him. Why was he still here? Was Shinigami really planning to leave him out here, struggling, forever searching for Duo? What about the outside world? What about his body?

“I am alive,” he muttered, “I have to be alive!” He widened his eyes.

His fingers were scratched by the rough wood of the scythe’s staff; splinters embedded in his skin. He could feel it. It started to dawn to him, and he almost wanted to laugh as he realized that Shinigami had spoken the entire truth. The God of Death took only the lives of those who had forsaken their right to live. Murderers. Killers. The Guardian had killed Quinze because he was Winner’s murderer, and he had spared Khushrenada - for all that the man was, lying, manipulating, he had never pulled a trigger. The God and his Guardian had saved his life - and so would his life be spared. Shinigami had never referred to him as a dead man, only told him that he was in the realm of the dead - he and Duo were both alive, somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find him!

He walked on, even if there was no clear direction he went into. The fog was the same everywhere, the bland grayness that nowhere seemed to start and nowhere seemed to stop. The thought of saving Duo was all that was keeping him upright, was all that kept him going. He had to find his own Inochigami…Duo was his life, his source of life. Warmth. A little bit of warmth, every time he thought of Duo. He looked up again, in the hope to see him; but once again, there was no one around. This was cruel, this was torture! The cold, the heavy scythe.. how much longer could he go on..? He groaned. He was strong, but there was a limit to his strength.

He stood still, all but panting. How could Shinigami handle his scythe as if it weighed nothing? He was about to get crushed under its weight, and the artifact had been so small when they had found it. Duo’s anger and sadness…Solo. The death of his brother had really changed him, and if he only had been there to console him… Heero looked up, frowning as he suddenly saw something in the fog. His heart raced. Duo?

Could he… was that… what was it, that he saw in the bland mist? Some kind of color, violet color, blue-ish color… the color of Duo’s eyes. Heero reached for it, but his hand touched nothing but air. The color seemed to drift away from him and he wanted to cry out in frustration. Forcing himself to pick up the pace, he all but dragged the scythe with him, chasing the strange wisp of indigo.

“Don’t leave me,” he moaned as the color slightly faded, absorbed by the grey all around it. He thought he heard a soft chuckle again, and assumed his mind was playing tricks on him - how could he not go stark raving mad in a place like this? Had Shinigami come back to taunt him? He wheezed from the exertion, as he had broken out into a firm jog, all the while dragging the heavy scythe behind him. His eyes were focused on the color, definitely the color of Duo’s eyes, and he felt warmth. Yes, yes, this was the right direction! He had to catch his breath and halted for a moment, only a moment. The color intensified, just a little, and Heero could clearly make out the shape; pupil-less eyes, but eyes nonetheless. Not as big as Duo’s, he had always teased Duo with his wide, beautifully large eyes. These were smaller, and just as familiar…

“Solo,” Heero said. He had deeply cared for the older Maxwell brother, and had truly enjoyed going on expeditions with him. He wasn’t a witness to his actual drowning, but had been there when his lifeless body had been retrieved from the shore. “Solo, you’re guiding me..?”

He had to be hallucinating, because he could hear that soft chuckle again. He was driven mad!

“Stop torturing me!” He cried out. “Show yourself, or else help me to find Duo!”

Silence was his only answer, and to make matters worse, the purplish color faded more. Heero bit his lip, cursing himself mentally for snapping. This was the realm of the dead, not the real world, and what was completely strange to him here, was completely normal to this realm…probably. There were new rules he had to abide; he had to find Duo, and if it would take him to follow a vague color, shaped like the eyes of someone he knew, then he would do so.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered, “Solo, please, help me.”

There was no chuckle this time, and the grey fog had almost claimed the color again, assimilating it as if it were an enemy. Heero walked again, into the direction of the disappearing color, and tried to follow it. Was he still holding onto the scythe? There was a weight in his hands, but he couldn’t feel it. Had he lost it on his way? Was he insane? This fog, this nothingness, this grey, it was mind-blowing insane. He narrowed his eyes. The color was gone, but something black was luring in the mist. Was it solid? Was it Shinigami? No, warmth, warmth, he was definitely feeling warmth - Inochigami, life - and he cried out in triumph.

Found you.

“Don’t touch me, Heero. If you touch me, you’re dead!”

Heero collapsed, the scythe slipping from his fingers and the Never-Ending Circle fell onto the floor, or what a floor was in this fog, as he could hear the blade screeching as it touched the floor - at least something.

“Solo was here,” he breathed, “he guided me to you.”

“Yeah, I saw him too.” Duo looked downtrodden. He was anxious to touch Heero, it showed all over him, but he kept himself at a distance. This was him, this was truly Duo.. he had found him before Shinigami had found his Inochigami. He still looked pale, sickly pale, and his eyes… Gods, his beautiful eyes were widened in horror and disbelief.

“Oh fuck, oh Christ, Heero, your chest. What happened? What.. what are you doing here? You should have fled the kingdom a long time by now!”

“I couldn’t leave without you,” Heero answered dryly, but he couldn’t keep from smiling. Duo was naked just as he was, but there was nothing erotic about their bodies here - more so, they looked like pale, limbless blobs from the waist down. Duo’s body was intact; Heero didn’t dare to look down at his own chest. He could still feel his blood on his fingers.

“You can’t get me away from here,” Duo said. “This is the realm of the dead. Solo told me. We’re dead, and Shinigami is unleashed…it’s my entire fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Heero wanted to get up again, but found he couldn’t. Funny, his body felt like it weighed a ton. He couldn’t even see his own feet and still it felt like they were clumps of massive lead, instead of skin and bones. “You were forced to reassemble the Never-Ending Circle, and you started the cycle all over again…but we failed to find Shinigami’s counterpart, and now the whole situation is out of balance.”

“I could always trust you to analyze the predicament we’re in, into perfection,” Duo answered sourly. “Heero, I want to kiss and hug the ever-loving he…heaven out of you, but I can’t touch you. If you touch me, you’re dead.”

“We’re not dead,” Heero said. “Who told you that you were dead? Shinigami?”

“Solo was here,” Duo explained. “He said that if I touched him, I was dead.”

“Because Solo is truly dead,” Heero said, sullenly. “I’m sorry, Duo. I shouldn’t have said that. Listen to me. We have to break the scythe and all will be restored.”

“Heero…”

“Just listen to me, Duo. Break it, destroy it, take it apart, whatever it takes!”

They were a team. They had been a team, and whenever the need called for it, they fell back into the patterns that were established when they explored and uncovered artifacts together - Heero the analyzing one, Duo the flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants one. They had mutual respect for each other, for their knowledge, their quick thinking, their abilities to bring everything to a good end, no matter what the odds. They had trusted each other in the most stressful of times - and being in the realm of the dead was more than stressful. It was draining, and Heero knew he was losing a battle if they didn’t react quick; he couldn’t even get up anymore, and perhaps Duo wasn’t noticing it, but he himself looked more and more ghostly and withering by the minute.

Duo grabbed the scythe, groaning as he was surprised by its weight. He pulled the staff towards him, the blade dragging behind it, like nails on a chalk board. They both shivered. Lifting the scythe upright, Duo grabbed the blade and tried to wedge it out of the staff.

“It’s massively stuck!”

“Break it,” Heero tried to encourage him. His voice was failing him. No, not now. This environment was assimilating them, just as it had done with the color of Solo’s eyes, the last attempt to bring them together. They couldn’t stay here forever, they would die for real, Heero was sure of it. Fear and panic was getting to the both of them; Duo’s body turned even more formless and ghostly, and Heero noticed all of his senses were faltering; his vision was getting blurred, his ears were clogging up, his tongue was swelling up.

“We’re going to die forever!” Duo exclaimed as he tried everything he could to break the artifact again.

“We can’t die. Shinigami needs your body, and I’m not a murderer,” Heero wanted to tell him, even though it made sense only in his mind.

“Of course you’re not a murderer. What are you talking about? Fucking fuck stupid fucking scythe! That’s the last time I’m ever going to take another commission! Fuck!”

Heero couldn’t speak anymore, and his eyes were drooping. His lips were curled in a smile. Despite everything, he felt grateful. If this was his moment, then he wanted to spend it with Duo. They had faced death many times before, and it had finally taken its toll on Solo. They had managed to survive all those times, but now this was the final stand, wasn’t it? Humans were amusing. Their bodies couldn’t withstand the realm of the dead.

“Leave the fucking scythe,” he wanted to say, trusting Duo to pick up on his thoughts again. “I want to hold you.”

Duo looked at him. He didn’t mention the ‘don’t touch me or you’re dead’ line again. His face was untouched; the outlines were still visible, his large eyes brimming with sadness and acceptance…and his usual defiance. A lopsided grin showed on his face, as he understood. Final moments, and finally together.

He all but threw himself on top of Heero, his formless body not feeling any impact of the weight. Scythe still in hand, Duo touched Heero wherever he could. He moved his free arm under Heero’s, not caring that the blood stained his own skin. Heero moved up his own arm, wrapping it around Duo’s shoulders, pulling him close with the last of his strength.

“Drop the scythe,” it was barely a whisper, “it doesn’t suit you.”

Duo dropped the scythe at the same moment they kissed. It slipped slowly from his fingers, as if he couldn’t let it go. Their lips, burning with desire, panic, love and fear, sought each other out and they kissed, they touched, holding each other in passion and despair. The grey fog was thickening, slithering tendrils reaching for the both of them. Bodies, minds, souls.. it fleeted away, out of their reach, colors fading, awareness ceasing to exist.

The Never-Ending Circle hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

-----------------------------

“Yuy! Wake up! You idiot! Selfish bastard! Wake up!”

As long as he had known Wufei, his friend had never called him names, never uttered a word of profanity, and virtually never showed any trace of panic. To hear his voice all but screaming into his ear was funny, hilarious in a sick way, because he also knew that there had to be something terribly wrong if Chang Wufei of all people was in panic.

Oh yeah. I died, didn’t I? It was a godsend that his mind was working at its usual speed. He realized what was going on immediately; he was lying on the ground, a weak sun caressing his skin, and there was an uncomfortable tightness around his chest. He felt weak, tired, but he was breathing, he was registering the sounds and movements around him, even though he couldn’t open his eyes. He was alive. Yes, he was very certain he was alive. A shiver ran through him, and he moved his arm.

“Yuy! You are awake!”

A sudden slap to his face forced him snap open his eyes, shock and disbelief visible.

“What the hell are you doing?” He growled.

Wufei heaved a sigh of relief. His clothes were soaked in blood, his tank top completely drenched, and there were smears all over his pants.

“Stay down, you have lost a lot of blood. Thank whatever deity that your Land Rover was stocked with an extremely well supplied first aid kit, I have used up every bit of gauze.”

The wound on his chest. Heero grimaced. How bad was it? He wanted to touch the bandages and take them off, to see for himself - but the memories of the realm of the dead flashed in front of his eyes, and the memory of his blood, ice cold, dripping from his fingers. He shivered again.

“I am sorry, but I had to move you. The statue suddenly came crashing down, and I was afraid the debris was going to hit you.”
“Statue?”

“The Guardian,” Wufei said.

“How long was I away?”

“Away? You have been here all the time, Yuy. You just opened your arms for the God of Death and he sliced right at you. It is a miracle that you only suffered a wound to the chest - I was convinced that he was going to cut you in half!”

“Duo,” Heero coughed.

Wufei nodded, a strange stony expression on his face. “Maxwell is right over there.”

A feeling of utter bliss descended upon Heero, and he smiled, relief and gratitude washing over him. They had made it out alive! Wufei didn’t share his excitement, and as Heero moved his head around, searching for Duo, his friend put his hand on his shoulder. He shook his head.

“What?” Heero asked, annoyed. He hated that he was so vulnerable, so dependent. His body had taken quite the injury, he was fully aware of it, and the loss of blood made him weak and light-headed.

“I am sorry,” Wufei said.

“Help me up,” Heero snarled at him. He tried to get up, making wild movements with his arms. He wanted to get up as quick as possible.

“Yuy, take it easy! Your chest…”

“Help me up!”

Wufei tsk-ed, but obeyed the harsh command and supported Heero. It took them four tries as Heero’s legs refused to obey him, and he had to muster up all of his remaining energy and effort to stand up straight. Panting and wheezing, he turned with the help of Wufei to the left, only to see a body lying on the ground, covered with a grey blanket.

“I found him behind the rubble of the statue,” Wufei explained. “He was not breathing, Yuy. I am sorry that he did not make it.”

“Duo…” Heero wrestled himself free of Wufei’s grip and his friend let him go, knowing that it was of no use to try to stop him. Shuffling and dragging his feet, struggling to take one step after another, Heero made his way over to the covered body. “Duo!”

The bandages chafed his skin and his wound tore open again, but he couldn’t care less. Heero sank to his knees, hands gripping the blanket and with his last strength, he pulled the fabric away. It was Duo, and his eyes were closed. His skin was a ghastly pale, strands of hair plastered to his face, his right arm bend at an unnatural angle, fingers spread. This couldn’t be happening. Was this a last trick of Shinigami? Had he lied to him after all? No, the God of Death had no reason to lie. He had given him a second chance - this couldn’t be Shinigami’s work.

“We better leave,” Wufei mentioned. Heero made a movement with his arm as if he wanted to bat away an annoying fly. He could see nothing but Duo, lying lifelessly in front of him - not after everything they had been through! He pushed himself to lie alongside Duo, ignoring that his chest wasn’t heaving.

“Breathe, breathe, my love,” he said, his hands shaking and trembling as he touched him. “My Inochigami. Breathe, goddamnit!”

“Yuy,” Wufei urged him.

“Breathe!”

Duo’s body was surrounded by splinters of wood and metal shards that had to be the remnants of the scythe. They had broken the Never-Ending Circle again, they had put Shinigami to rest again…why wasn’t Duo alive? Why wasn’t he opening his eyes, smiling at him? Why wasn’t he breathing? Duo’s lips were chalk white. Heero didn’t hesitate for a moment and kissed him, the shock of his cold lips barely reaching his mind. Dead, cold, lips…it just couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!

“I can’t fight for the both of us,” Heero softly whispered. Duo looked so fragile, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted…a marble statue about to break. “Solo isn’t here. He can’t guide you now, Duo. You have to fight yourself. You have to do it yourself. Come back to me, please. Please. Shinigami didn’t lie. He gave the both of us a second chance. We defied death, Duo, remember? Come back to me. Breathe!”

He had no strength left to perform CPR. He assumed that Wufei had tried, even though there was no reason to assume Duo would survive. Heero refused to believe that Duo had lost the battle. He didn’t want his last memory of him to be lying like this, on the ground, half covered with a grey blanket, in the Kingdom of Sanq.

Suddenly, Duo’s cheeks puffed up and he busted out in a violent cough, shaking his entire body. Wufei exclaimed something that could be either a curse or a blessing, Heero didn’t know - the Chinese warrior fortunately still had the presence of mind to immediately give water to Duo, to which he gratefully latched onto, gulping the liquid down.

“More,” he said as he was finished with the bottle and coughed again. Wufei gave him another bottle and it went down just as fast, until he started throwing up. Patient as a professional nurse, Wufei brought him a wet towel to clean his mouth and face. Duo buried his face into the thick fabric, dry-heaving and shaking.

“Duo,” Heero called his name. The other looked up, his right arm limp next to his side. Duo looked at him with bewilderment in his eyes and a tentative smile on his face. He was lucid, realizing as well what had happened, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He looked like he was about to faint.

“Wufei, we have to get out of here,” Heero said.

“I’ll go get the car,” Wufei answered. “Your car,” he corrected himself, as he didn’t feel like driving any one of the Land Rovers left behind by Khushrenada’s decimated army. As soon as he went away, Duo slipped his good arm around Heero again.

“We made it,” he whispered.

“Yes we did,” Heero said and closed his eyes, too tired to even speak. He didn’t hear Wufei returning with the car. He didn’t notice how his friend dragged him into the seat and strapped him in, and doing the same with Duo. He didn’t feel anything from the ride back to the border of Sanq. He knew Duo was behind him, and that he had to thank Wufei for all of his hard work; but the tensions ebbed away, the adrenaline wore off, and he had used up all of his energy. He fell asleep despite the bumpy and bad road, and this time the darkness was comfortable and welcome.

------------------------------

He smacked his lips a little; his throat felt dry. Coughing softly, he shifted around, moving his head from left to right, immediately squinting his eyes. The sun was quite bright, yet warm; a shadow was cast over his face.

“Too warm for you?”

Too warm…What?

“No, I feel chilly,” he croaked, immediately coughing.

“Take it easy.”

“Hee…Heero?”

Duo opened his eyes, batting his lashes a few times. Confused, he stared at the face of Quatre Raberba Winner.

“Wh-what?”

“Welcome to my estate in the Arab Emirates,” Quatre all but beamed at him. “Would you like some water? Lemonade? Iced tea? Regular tea?”

“My arm feels heavy,” Duo ignored his question and tried to get up.

Quatre pushed at his shoulder to keep him down and offered him a glass of water, tilting it carefully to enable him to sip at his leisure. He put a blanket around Duo’s legs; it was a grey one, with light red stripes. It made him shudder. Taking it as a sign of him feeling cold, Quatre tucked his legs even tighter in. It was almost funny, if Duo wasn’t so occupied with the pain in his arm and his unfamiliarity with his environment. Arab Emirates? Where the hell was he?

“My arm..?”

“It’s broken. Stop wriggling it, Duo. The scythe was too heavy for you, its weight broke your arm.”

“Broken? A scythe? What are you talking about?”

Quatre pulled a seat close and sat down. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Duo frowned, taking another sip. Licking his lips, he tried to recall the previous events.

“It’s…not really clear. The statue…I remember the big-ass golden statue with the weapons. I remember climbing up on it. From there, it’s a little blank…not dark, just…blank. Grey…fog. Cold. Discomfort. Where’s Heero?”

“He’s picking out bridal flower arrangements with Relena.”

“Whaaaaat?”

Quatre hid a laugh behind his hand. “Don’t worry! The Queen of the World recently announced her wedding plans, but she’s not going to marry Heero. She’s found herself a nice civilian guy whose ambitions have nothing to do with politics. It was love at first sight, or so she says.” Quatre winked at Duo. “To answer your earlier question, Heero has video footage of the statue and he can fill you in on the details. He’s coming back soon. But for now, you deserve to be a little spoiled, Duo. After all, thanks to you, one of the most dangerous artifacts of the world has been put away to never be assembled again. The power over life and death is in no one’s hands…just as it should be.”

“Quatre,” Duo said, followed by a “hey, Trowa,” when he noticed the personal assistant sitting under the large parasol. The blond CEO looked over his shoulder and his already warm smile intensified when looking at Trowa. Duo realized they were at the edge of a large swimming pool, the seats and large table conveniently set up under a huge parasol.

“I have to thank both you and Heero,” Quatre continued, not giving Duo a chance to speak. “If it weren’t for you, the world would’ve faced another war. Not only would the Never-Ending Circle be used as a weapon of power, but also to keep the power differential as large as possible. With a weapon like the scythe of the God of Death himself, it would’ve been a very unfair fight. Colonies, nations, factions, Earth; everyone would’ve been pitted against each other in a hotbed of mystical powers and the knowledge that death could strike at any moment, for any reason.”

“But what…happened?” Duo asked, still confused. He had difficulties filling in the gaps and he stared at his encased right arm as if it was an alien limb.

Trowa had his laptop with him, and next to him was a paper file holding clippings of news articles. He showed it to Duo, leafing through them at his convenience: apparently, Khushrenada had made the headlines big time, in a less than flattering manner.

“Treize Khushrenada has been exposed as the manipulating factor behind it all,” Trowa said, pointing at a specific headline. “Romefeller was quick to blame and demote their prodigy child just as quick as they had been to promote him - he’s taking the fall for the entire organization. Even though his actions don’t warrant him any prison time, being pushed back to the lower ranks of the organization and with this stain to his name, he’ll be keeping a low profile for a long time to come.”

“What about the others?”

He was interrupted by a servant carrying a large tray with refreshments. Duo waited until the servant was gone. Quatre helped himself to a cup of tea, but not before he pressed Duo a large glass of non-carbonated lemonade in his hands. The CEO slowly stirred into the scorching hot liquid.

“Romefeller is too big of an organization to be completely out of the picture. Not everyone in the organization was supporting these plans. As far as I know, only a select few had in mind to seize power with help of the Never-Ending Circle. However, they can forget about any influence in the political field though, as their image and name have taken a blow. Their ties to White Fang have been exposed, which led to new questions about the training facility on Cuba - no, the Romefeller Foundation will be regarded with quite the suspicion from now on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned back to its original form: a historical society supporting the Victorian arts.”

“You may not remember that Quinze was killed,” Trowa said. “Another high-ranked member of the White Fang, Sedici, was arrested and put under surveillance. The authorities found plans at their headquarters, but they refuse to disclose exactly what. Even though this Sedici wasn’t directly linked to the Never-Ending Circle, I doubt that the White Fang will become of any importance in the future. With both their leaders gone, the members will probably disband.”

Quatre took a sip, smiling as usual. “While Romefeller is heavily discredited, my father’s name has been internationally acknowledged for his contributions to the archaeological field,” he said. “His journal, findings and theories on the Never-Ending Circle have been published and he’s been accredited for all his hard work.”

“That’s incredible news,” Duo said, feeling genuinely happy for Quatre. He winced as a jolt of pain reminded him that his arm was broken. He was annoyed that he still had a gap in his memory the size of his own manor. Trowa clicked at the keys of the laptop and showed the screen to Duo. It was a bank transfer program, and the amount of money was already filled out.

“Please state the account number of where you want this to be transferred to?”

Duo smiled, but shook his head. “I didn’t get you the Never-Ending Circle. I didn’t uphold my part of the commission.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Quatre said. “I wasn’t interested as much in the artifact itself as in restoring my father’s name. The confirmation of its existence is an archaeological breakthrough, and it showed that my father’s work wasn’t for nothing. I now know who his murderer was, and he’s already been brought to justice. I wasn’t chasing ghosts.”

“The artifact is still around,” Wufei said casually. “Albeit assembling it will be neigh impossible.”

Duo hadn’t heard him approach; apparently, there were more people who could sneak up to him without as much as a sound. It ticked him off a little.

“I was wondering where you were,” he said, wary.

“So, you do remember me?”

“Sort of. I saw you at Sanq’s border..?”

“I will leave it up to Heero to fill in the details,” Wufei said. “It is otherwise too much information to be dumped on you, and you need to rest. For now, I wish to thank you too, Duo Maxwell. I wanted to take the Never-Ending Circle to my clan for personal reasons, but from what I have seen of it, I would probably have destroyed what was left of my home, instead of using it for good. It shattered into so many pieces that we couldn’t bring everything back; what we didn’t take is buried under tons of debris, and probably impossible to identify.”

“You brought the artifact back?” Duo was dumbfounded.

“Heero will show it to you. I expect him to arrive within the next fifteen minutes.” Wufei bowed to him, as if he was ready to leave.

“Thank you, Wufei,” Quatre replied, looking very content. The business man hadn’t shown any surprise at seeing the other appear out of nowhere. Wufei bowed to him and Trowa.

“Keep in touch, Chang,” Duo said, grinning lopsidedly. The Chinese warrior showed a flicker of a smile before walking away soundlessly. Without his katana on his back, he’d almost looked friendly to Duo.

Trowa closed off the laptop and after a glance at Quatre, he cleared his throat and said: “We have to continue with our daily schedule…besides, I think it’s better if we left you to rest up a little.”

“How long have I been out of it anyway?” Duo asked. Quatre had talked about events that probably had taken days. It seemed only like yesterday to him that he was descending down the stairs beneath the Royal Palace of Sanq. Quatre looked at Trowa with a look of torment on his face, but yielded and said softly: “Two weeks. We had to fear for your life several times, Duo. You were barely responding to us, and we thought that Shinigami might claim you after all.”

Trowa patted Duo on the shoulder. “If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know. There’s a remote control on the table - just press one of the buttons, and someone will come for you. All the servants are at your disposal, and instructed to fulfill your every need. We’re happy to have you stay here for as long as you need to recover.”

"It's no problem at all," Quatre added.

“Damn,” Duo muttered. He felt a little embarrassed. He didn’t want any servant. He wanted Heero. What the fuck is he doing, going out and about with a pretty princess to pick out flower arrangements, for fuck’s sake?

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or to cry, but even if he did feel anger or annoyance, it left him as he dozed off again, enjoying the sun and the knowledge that everyone was safe. He would worry about the gaps in his memory later, and his broken arm would heal. Relaxing into the warmth of the sun, he allowed himself to drift off.

-------------------------------------

A servant woke up him at dinner time, gently shaking his shoulder until Duo opened his eyes. The man bowed to him extensively, indicating to follow him to the large mansion. Duo got up himself, stretching languidly and popping his muscles. He yawned. His legs felt a little shaky, and he made a mental note to get back to his usual routine of exercising soon. His body felt stiff and cramped from lack of training.

Following the servant to the mansion, Duo wondered where Heero was. He had expected the other to come look for him, but maybe he didn’t want to wake him up? Both Quatre and Trowa had mentioned that he needed his rest, and though he did feel a lot better, Duo just wanted to know where Heero was so he could talk to him, and fill in the gaps. He was still tired though, and didn’t pay much attention to the mansion itself. He noticed some art, and his trained eye told him that nothing on display here was a cheap reproduction. Quatre had chosen for light sandy colors and strict lines in his interior decoration; it felt more like a business suite than a mansion.

The hallway seemed endless and just as he was about to ask the servant how much longer it was going to take, he passed an open door…and he saw Heero, lying on a chaise longue, a book in his hands.

“Heero!” He all but yelled.

Heero looked up, his face lighting up as he saw Duo in the door opening. He closed the book and put it on the small table next to him, and shifted to sit up straight. The servant appeared next to Duo, a little confused, not knowing what to do. Heero waved at him.

“It’s all right. Tell the others we’ll be at dinner soon.”

The man nodded, bowed once more and disappeared. Both Heero and Duo walked towards each other, but halted in the middle of the room, suddenly nervous and anxious, as if they met for the first time. It took only a few seconds though, before they simultaneously opened their arms and embraced each other. Duo noticed how strong Heero’s grip was; he almost cut off his breathing. He patted Heero on the back, careful not to hit him with his cast.

“I thought I lost you forever,” Heero said, inhaling Duo’s scent. He didn’t make any move to break up their embrace. His fingers clutched at Duo’s clothing; a wide shirt and baggy pants. “Don’t you ever scare me like that.”

“Heero, I…”

“I know,” he was quick to reply. “Quatre told me that you don’t remember much of it all. It’s all right, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Duo nodded. “So?”

“So…?”

“So what happened down there?”

“Down where?”

“Where the big statue was?”

“Duo…”

“That’s my name.”

Heero pressed his lips on his harshly. “Must you really want to know it right now?”

Duo returned the kiss, enjoying their lips on each other, tasting Heero - unique as he’d always been, a rough but spicy taste, and so very addictive - and gasped from the ferocity of the kiss. Not that he was going to complain about it, but this… possessiveness was new to him.

“Yeah, I pretty much do,” Duo answered in all honestly. “I don’t like not knowing what happened.”

Heero kissed him again, this time softly, lingering on his lower lip. “I don’t want to be parted from you ever again.”

“You’re changing the subject again. And…what about your royal girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Duo…”

“Just kidding,” he said and ruffled Heero’s hair. “But when someone tells me you’re picking flower arrangements with her…”

“She’s going to marry a guy named -”

“It’s okay, I’m just making fun of you. Still…Khushrenada might lay low for a while, but with the members of Romefeller and White Fang exposed…that’s got to have consequences for her.”

Heero heaved a sigh. He did break up their hug now, only to coax Duo into sitting next to him on the chaise-longue. “Quatre told me he bought off the blackmail issue. He approached Khushrenada when he was being interrogated. Do you remember Merquise suffering a bullet to the shoulder? Well, when Khushrenada returned to the border with his injured friend, the local police started up an investigation. I don’t know how Quatre caught wind of it, but he offered Khushrenada too good of a deal to refuse, especially now that he’s the black sheep of the Romefeller family. Oh yeah, and he threatened to have all his archaeological licenses revoked and all that.”

“Wow,” Duo said, seeing Quatre in an entire different light.

“Despite money and influence, I guess nobody can prevent that maybe, someday someone will find out about the Peacecraft’s true origins. Someone, be it an established historian or an amateur-archaeologist like Winner Sr., will dig up the violent past of their ancestors. Maybe they will put the Guardian together again and wonder what its meaning was. At least, for now, Relena and her family are safe, without scandals. Merquise… ah, Milliardo Peacecraft I must say, and his girlfriend have resigned from public life and are preparing to pioneer with a space project for the colonization of Mars.”

“Milliardo and girlfriend?” Duo asked, his head spinning. Everything what Heero was telling him made sense to him, but he couldn’t puzzle it together in the right sequence. It was quite frustrating. He knew what Heero meant with ‘the Guardian’ and in his memories the image of the huge golden statue was floating around, but he had difficulties matching them together. It felt like he had to slog his way through a swamp before he could reach the clear blue ocean.

“Lucrezia Noin. Perhaps the name rings a bell…?”

Duo didn’t have to think for long. Anything before the events beneath the Royal Palace were as clear as day to him.

“Campbell Grant’s secretary,” he blurted out.

“Yes, and Quatre’s secretary on occasion,” Heero admitted. “She had access to much information, and relayed that to the several parties involved. Quatre had to fire her of course, breach of trust and all that. But she was happy to leave as long as she was with Milliardo, and she didn’t even bother to pick up her last paycheck.”

“Huh…she was some kind of double-crosser?”

“Hardly. She did it all for Milliardo’s well-being. The woman would die for him, and as long as he was safe, she would give out information to everyone who wanted to know. She wasn’t interested in money, she only wanted everyone to leave her Milliardo alone.”

“I see…well, I can forgive her for that. So that’s why Chang knew my name.”

“Yes. Chang kept an eye on you, Romefeller, Khushrenada and the White Fang. They were behind the teargas incident.”

“Assholes. I haven’t thanked him properly, I guess. But what’s there between you and Wufei anyway?”

“Nothing. He had a personal obligation to Khushrenada, and I don’t know the exact details - it wasn’t my place to pry it out of him. However, he never approved of Khushrenada’s methods, and knowing of Winner’s murder was the final straw. He regards his obligation to him over. Whatever happened, we didn’t want Khushrenada to succeed. And believe it or not, Wufei is actually a scholar.”

Duo fell silent, brooding. He closed his eyes and his hand went up to itch at his cast.

“Something doesn’t add up…”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t I remember much of…how I ended up here? And with a broken arm…Quatre mentioned a scythe and Shinigami. Did I hold the Never-Ending Circle?”

“You held it and wielded it, Duo. Though you weren’t Duo at that time.”

“I was fucking possessed?”

“You were possessed,” Heero nodded.

“Crap.”

Heero tilted his head, studying Duo’s face. He wasn’t really sure if he should tell him about the realm of the dead and about Solo. Duo seemed to be his usual self, and Heero didn’t want to tear open old wounds or scars by telling him every detail.

“You managed to force him out of you,” Heero said, twisting the truth, but not entirely lying. It made him feel guilty, but he didn’t want to disturb the genuine happy look on Duo’s face. They had both been so close to dying… he took Duo’s left hand in his. He had lost some weight, and his fingers were a little bony; still, Heero caressed them, enjoying the warm, lively touch.

“I did? But how about the scythe, Chang said that it was still around. Did you bring it back?”

“It’s broken beyond repair,” Heero said. “It…the blade splintered, and the staff…shattered. You can still see its shape and make out the markings on some of the wood fragments, but assembling again is impossible. No one will be able to put the Never-Ending Circle back again, Duo.”

Duo put his hand on Heero’s, and squeezed a little.

“Do you think Shinigami will ever find his Inochigami?” Duo asked.

“You remember that?”

“Something. Vague. In the back of my mind…it was a strange longing I felt. Strange, but familiar. The longing to be with someone…and to me, it was you, Heero. To him, it was his Inochigami. It felt warm whenever I thought of you. Warm, like a little happy bundle of joy.”

“I don’t think he ever will, Duo. Murder and killings happen every day, and as long as people are taking each other’s lives, be it out of jealousy, revenge, or because of war, Shinigami will not find his Inochigami.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Yeah…I guess it is.”

“I don’t remember much of him,” Duo said, leaning into Heero. “Of Shinigami, that is. I don’t remember being possessed, but well…that speaks for it self. Like I said, I only felt that longing to be with someone. Strange, huh, that an entity of death could feel such warmth and love for someone else?”
“You have to realize that yes indeed, Shinigami was the God of Death, but he wasn’t an evil spirit. He was perfectly objective in his motives. Violent and scary, but objective. He didn’t kill us. He killed Quinze because he was a murderer, and he killed half of Treize’s army because they were mercenaries. Those who have taken the lives of others forsake their own lives in his eyes, and so Shinigami will live to take their lives. He wasn’t hungry for power, he wanted nothing but his Inochigami. He’s obsolete in this world; we kill ourselves enough as it is.”

“You know what else, Heero?”

“No, tell me?”

“I think he should find his beloved soon,” Duo whispered in his ear. “I think he was just fucking cranky because he hadn’t gotten laid in eons, don’t you think?”

“You remember much more than you want to admit…”

“Life and death just belong together. Primal forces on Earth, on the colonies, in outer space. Everywhere.”

“Together,” Heero agreed, leaning into him to brush past his lips. The movement made him wince; the wound on his chest hadn’t completely healed yet. Duo failed to notice as he moved up both his arms to embrace Heero again.

“I’m sure they’re wondering what’s taking us so long,” he whispered. “Do you think they’ll start dinner without us?”

“We can always call for room service,” Heero answered lazily.

It was getting late; the last rays of the sun shone upon them. The windows were still open, but not a breeze of wind; in this climate the days were hot and the nights cold, and they could feel the temperature drop already. Heero fumbled behind him for a thick blanket, a red one, before returning the embrace and sinking his hands into Duo’s hair, glowing copper and gold in the settling sun.

“Does this mean we’re in business again?” Duo asked breathlessly, but his smile gave his own answer away. Heero rolled dramatically with his eyes, pulled Duo closer and proceeded to kiss him, fingers snapping the tie of his braid.

“Hey! That’s not an answer!”

--------------------------

End of “Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle”

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle, part 9

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 21:18:41 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence. This chapter contains death of a minor character!
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Key: ----------- = scene change

He didn’t realize the bloodcurdling scream echoing in the room was his own as he saw Duo’s head snapping back and blood spattering over his face, the impact of the bullet so forceful that he took a few steps back, staggering.

“Duo, DUO!” Heero rushed forward, but Wufei grabbed him at the arm and pulled him forcefully back.

Duo’s body was angled unnaturally, his face staring at the ceiling, his back arched as if he tried to fold himself backwards. He didn’t move, one hand gripping the scythe tightly, and agonizing slow, he finally brought up his other hand, fingers prying at the bullet between his eyes.

“Dear Lord…” Heero’s face was distorted in terror and disbelief as he saw Duo taking out the bullet, a steady flow of blood trickling over his nose, smearing his cheeks and lips, a maniacal grin on his face.

“Would you look at that,” he said, voice low, as he examined the bullet. “You humans certainly have improved your weaponry over the ages.”

Khushrenada’s eyes darted around like crazy - Duo and the kneeling statue were blocking every way to the exit, and he couldn’t expect much help of his men. All of them were either wounded or had managed to flee before the giant statue obstructed their path. His eyes went back to Heero who was staring at Duo.Wufei ignored everyone but the stranger in front of him, scythe in his hand.

“Get out of the way,” Merquise said, voice wavering.

“Or else what?” Duo mocked. “You’re going to kill me again?” Snorting, he threw the bullet back at Merquise with a flick of his finger. The man cried out in pain, clutching at his shoulder as blood seeped through his clothing.

“Milliardo!” Khushrenada yanked the scarf he was wearing from his neck, not caring that he had used Merquise’s real name. He pressed the fabric to the wound.

Duo turned towards Heero, the scythe turning with him. The eerie, green glow of the blade diminished a little. He smiled, not minding or not noticing the small flow of blood from the bullet wound, seeping over the bridge of his nose.

“It’s been so long,” he said, voice suddenly soft and filled with longing. “We’re back together again, my love.”

“We’ve never been apart,” Heero answered, lowering his eyes a little.

“No, never,” Duo beamed at him. “No matter how much time has gone by…no matter how many worlds separated us…”

Wufei nudged Heero a little. The man standing behind Merquise and Khushrenada frowned.

“I’m not the one who you think you are,” Heero said. “Please… Duo…”

“What do you mean, my love? We’ve been reunited…reunited by fools, but reunited at last. Isn’t that what we were hoping for?” Duo tilted his head. “The Never-Ending Circle has been completed - life and death, together again. What you give, I take…what I give, you take. We’ve been like this for centuries…eras…eons…until I broke my staff.”

“You’ve always been the one with the temper,” Heero said rather fondly, even though he was pretty sure he wasn’t talking to the real Duo anymore.

“My scythe is whole again now,” Duo agreed. “Why do we not dispose of these losers and return to our work, Inochigami.”

“Shinigami,” Heero said.

“Yes?”

“It’s really you, isn’t it?”

“Inochigami…has your sleep clouded your mind? It has been so long…we have all the time in the world to catch up again, my love.”

“Something is terribly wrong here,” Wufei said, looking miserable.

“No shit,” Heero muttered under his breath, phrasing one of Duo’s favorite lines. Merquise pressed his hand against his shoulder, suppressing the blood flow with help of Khushrenada’s scarf.

“We have to get out of here,” Khushrenada hissed, hovering over Merquise as he spoke.

“We are going nowhere,” a nasal voice echoed through the room, and all heads went into the direction of the man who spoke up for the first time.

“What do you mean?” Khushrenada demanded, but something had changed in his voice. He sounded irritated, anxious and concerned at the same time.

“You promised me the Never-Ending Circle, Treize,” the man continued, “and I want it now.”

“Now is not the time, Quinze,” Khushrenada hissed, his fingers sticky with blood. His pure silk scarf wasn’t the best solution to stop the flow; Merquise hissed in pain.

The man called Quinze stepped forward and pushed his metallic rimmed glasses back on his nose, looking from the statue to Duo to Treize and back to the statue again, before settling on Treize.

“It’s never a good time, isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for the artefact for a long time, Treize. You promised it to me, and the White Fang is in need of an object of power. This is magnificent. I want it.”

“Feel free to take it for yourself,” Khushrenada answered. Quinze barked a hollow laugh. His bony hand went to his back, and he smoothly took out a gun, pointing it at Merquise.

“We had a deal, Treize. You better follow through on it! The Never-Ending Circle, now!”

Khushrenada looked at him furiously, even more so from the casual manner Quinze addressed him with his first name. He moved his arm around Merquise and hoisted him back up on his feet. Except for Quinze and Treize, no one had spoken, and all eyes were fixed on the gun Quinze was holding. Merquise had dropped his when Duo had flung the bullet back at him; it was out of Khushrenada’s reach.

“Inochigami, what is going on? Who are these people?” Duo asked.

“They aren’t important,” Heero was quick to say. “Duo? Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” Duo answered.

“You’re confusing me,” Heero said. He licked his lips.

“I’m right here,” Duo repeated.

“Just keep him occupied,” Khushrenada whispered heatedly, his eyes glaring at the scythe. He yanked at Merquise’s arm, eliciting a cry of pain out of him.

“And where are you going?” Duo crossed one arm in front of his chest, using his other to swing the scythe and stop Khushrenada. The man swallowed heavily as the blade grazed his skin. He could feel blood welling up; this instrument was even sharper than Wufei’s katana. Duo’s movements were too fast to notice; Khushrenada had barely moved, and the blade was already pressing against his skin, just below his chin. One small slice and his artery was open.

“Shinigami,” he tried the strange name, “God of Death…I ask for passage..?”

“You ask?” The low voice carried far in the shrine, obviously amused. “You have a lot of nerve, Treize Khushrenada. You display an arrogance not even I come close to.”

“P-please,” the man protested weakly. “My friend is injured…”

“How many times in your life have you said ‘Please’? Not often, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You did well by asking passage for your friend. It honors you, though your main goal is to get yourself, and only yourself, out of here alive.”

“Duo,” Heero tried to call to him again. “Duo, this isn’t you. You never killed, you never reveled in death…”

“Inochigami.” Duo smiled at him. “You give life. I take life. I take the lives of those who aren’t worthy, I take the lives of those who have taken lives, I take the lives of those whose time is up. Justice and honor for those who have fallen at the hands of those who lost the right to live the moment they started thinking about murder.”

“Murder…” Khushrenada repeated, his eyes growing wide. Winner. He snapped his head back, looking at Quinze, who calmly pointed the gun at Merquise.

“You’re not the killer here, my friend.” Duo still smiled, but his smile had turned devilish, twisting his lips. He was now looking straight at Quinze. “You took the life of an innocent for your own gain, for your own selfish purposes. You want to take my Never-Ending Circle for your own desire of power. For that, you will die.”

“No!” Heero lunged forward, jumping at Duo, and managed to throw him off balance. The arch of his scythe cut through a pillar instead of Quinze’s body, stone crashing and tumbling down, debris littering the floor.

“Inochigami! What are you doing?”

“Stop it,” Heero said, holding Duo-Shinigami, or Shinigami-Duo, no, he was Duo Maxwell, by the arms and shook him. “You’re not a killer! You’re not a murderer! You are Duo!”

With an annoyed grunt, Duo pushed Heero away from him, turning back to Quinze again. The man had visibly paled, but his gun didn’t waver.

“I don’t know who or what the hell you are,” he spoke, voice unstable, “but you’re going to give that scythe to me.”

There was still blood on Duo’s face from where Merquise’s bullet had hit him, and it had slowed down to a faint trickle. The corners of his lips were moving downward, in a disapproving, menacing scowl.

“Do you know what you ask of me?” He said, narrowing his eyes. “You, one who has already taken a life, you dare ask of me to hand over my scythe?”

“You’re talking about Winner, right?” Quinze said airily, but the sweatdrops on his brow were real. “It was an accident. He dug too deep. I had to stop him.”

“I don’t deal with murderers,” Duo hissed, “I take their lives!”

“Duo stop it, please!” Heero grabbed Duo’s arm again. He didn’t care for Quinze, but he knew he had to stop Duo - if he ever returned to normal, he would be devastated at the thought of having killed a man, even in a possessed state… no, not if he returned to normal, but when he returned to normal. Duo was strong enough to force this entity out of his body, and gain control over himself again! His mind raced at a thousand miles per minute. He had faced many dangers, traps and pits, ravines and deep dark abyss…but he had never met a God of Death, let alone its…his spirit, in the body of the man he loved.

“What are you doing?” Shinigami-Duo’s voice sounded dangerously low.

“Listen to me,” Heero said, meeting his gaze, “you’re not a murderer, you’re not a killer. You are Duo Maxwell!”

“Inochigami, you speak strange words. Never before have you stopped me from slaying one who has taken an innocent life!”

“Quinze will get what’s coming to him,” Heero said smoothly, ignoring the leader of the White Fang and the gun he was still holding. “We have justice to take care of that problem. Justice, and prison cells.”

“I want that scythe, Mister Yuy,” Quinze immediately spoke up, not about to be forgotten. Heero ignored him again.

“I know Justice, but I do not know prison cells,” Shinigami-Duo answered confusedly, and his eyes narrowed once more. “What has gotten into you, Inochigami? Surely we must celebrate being reunited after so much time… even our Guardian is joyful to see us again.”

Heero refused to look at the unmoving golden statue. He carefully lifted up his hand to touch Duo’s cheek, stroking his skin.

“I’m not him,” Heero said. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Duo growled, and the lines in his face darkened, the dried blood cracking.

“It’s me, Heero,” he answered. “Heero Yuy. I’m your friend…your boyfriend. Remember the times we kissed? Remember how we kissed? The times we laughed, we cried, together, at the Manor? We worked out together in the gym, and you love to do acrobatics. You can do a triple backwards flip, Duo. Remember?”

He pursed his lips, reducing hem to a tight, cruel line. “What is that you speak of…a triple backwards flip? I know we have a different sense of humor, Inochigami, but this is ridiculous…”

With a sudden irritated growl, Duo brushed Heero’s hand on his cheek away and he grabbed the other by the chin, forcing his face close to his. After studying him for a few seconds, he kissed him, hard. Not hesitating for a moment, Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, closing the distance between them and embracing him as lovingly as he could. He couldn’t care less that everyone else present was looking at them; Quinze, Khushrenada, Merquise, he forgot about them as he responded to Duo’s kiss, his lips on his, warm, bloody, bitter. It was over all too soon, and Duo pushed him away.

“You are not my Inochigami,” he said, voice lower again. “What is going on here? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?”

Regaining his composure, Heero quickly raked a hand through his hair, trying to think how he could keep a control of the situation. Duo’s skin had paled considerably, and his lips… what the hell…were turning black, his eyes all but withdrawing into his head, showing dark, hollow pools without much emotion.

“Stop it, Duo, I beg of you,” he said. “Duo! Can you hear me?”

Wufei stepped forward, katana strapped on his back. He would be able to draw it within a mere second, but he figured it was better to approach the God of Death without any weapons in his hands.

“Inochigami is not here,” he said, voice calm and composed. “We can find him for you, just as we found your scythe. However, you are possessing a…friend of ours right now, and we would like to agree on something first.”

“You are amusing,” Shinigami-Duo said. “You humans have always been amusing, with your feelings of guilt and insecurity. You are all beating around the bush, waiting too long with your opportunities and chances, and then you start complaining about the unfairness of life. Amusing, yes! Where is my Inochigami?”

“He’s not here,” Heero repeated. “I’m not him, I’m sorry. Please let us go…let Duo go. You’re not of this world, Shinigami. Take your scythe and…return to where you came from, but let us…let Duo go.”

“The scythe, gentlemen,” Quinze interrupted again.

“Fuck off!” Heero lashed out, and his voice cracked. Both Shinigami-Duo and the statue seem to startle from his violent outburst, and the statue readied its weapons with his five remaining arms. Duo’s skin had turned a sickly grey, shining in the soft, brimming green light of his scythe.

“There is no Duo where you speak of,” he said, looking at Heero and Wufei. “You have found my scythe and returned it to me - for that, I will allow you to live.”

“Duo,” Heero wanted to touch him, but the other stepped away from him, lowering the weapon as a defense. The blood on his face was gone, only a few specks close to his nose and lips were still visible. They were the only color in his ashen face; his lips and eyes had turned the black darkness of darkest nightmares. “Duo! Fight him! Fight him, Duo!”

It amused Shinigami-Duo, and he looked over his shoulder to the large statue, which lifted up its arm with the large trident. He started to laugh as if Heero had told him the biggest joke, and it echoed in the room.

“No! No, Duo!”

“We have to get out of here, Yuy!” Wufei urged him.

“Duo! Duo!”

“Get the hell out of here!” Khushrenada made a beeline for the door, awkwardly pulling Merquise with him. The survivors of his personal army stumbled to the exit as well, supporting each other, terror on their faces. The Guardian ignored them. Wufei took Heero at the arm.

“We have to get out of here, Yuy,” he repeated. A movement to the left made him turn around, one hand on his katana, as he saw Quinze moving forward.

“So sorry to hear about your boyfriend,” he said, mockingly, “but a deal is a deal. The scy-”

“I said, fuck off!” Heero gritted through his teeth. “I never made a deal with you! Can’t you see, not even now, what this thing does?”

“I certainly see it,” Quinze said, eyes glistening. He used his other hand to push his glasses back on his nose. “That’s why I want it. The power of life and death, Mister Yuy, I thought I was quite clear when Khushrenada relayed those orders to you.”

“Khushrenada only commissioned me to find the artefact,” Heero hissed, “I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you!”

“We have to leave,” Wufei said once again as he noticed the statue coming towards them, one foot in front of the other, a low, rumbling sound that shook the entire shrine.

“Where is my Inochigami!” Shinigami-Duo cried out loud. The scythe glowed at full force, casting a green glow.

Heero trembled all over his body. The person standing in front of him wasn’t Duo, and he wasn’t Inochigami. He wasn’t the lover of the God of Death, he was Duo Maxwell’s boyfriend…but his instincts were screaming at him to stay and leave at the same time - stay with the creature that was this morbid mixture of Duo and Shinigami, and leave because fear was clutching at his heart.

“You are not him!” Shinigami-Duo lashed out wildly with the scythe, unleashing his anger and frustration. The large blade cut through everything it touched - stone and rock, it came all crumbling down. “You are not him!”

“He is tearing the place apart! Heero, if you do not leave, you will die here!” Wufei yanked at his collar, and Heero growled, batting his hand away.

“I’m not leaving without Duo!”

“Look at him! Look at him! That is not Maxwell, not any more!” Wufei yelled at him, his voice drowned out by all the noise. Heero’s chest heaved, taking in deep gulps of breath. He looked at Duo, standing in the middle of the rubble, swinging his scythe around. His braid was flying with every movement, strangely unharmed by the large blade, the color of the strands turning black. The smile on his lips was cruel and cold, and twisted his face in a gruesome way.

“I will find you,” he yelled. “I will find you, Inochigami!”

Wufei yanked harder at Heero’s collar, tearing the fabric. “We have to get out of here! Come on!”

“We can’t leave!”

“You cannot do anything for him now!”

“Let go of me!”

Quinze was still there, with the gun, and for the first time he was actually hesitating. He realized that no one was really in control anymore - but his greed and hunger for power was greater. Convinced he had the upper hand, he cocked the gun and aimed at Heero this time.

“Deal or no deal, go get what’s mine!” He barked.

Heero stared into the barrel of the gun. He couldn’t afford to die here. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as Duo was around somewhere, in his body, suppressed by the entity of the God of Death. If he died here, he could never help Duo to return to his true self…he would never hold the man he loved in his arms again. Too much had happened. There was still so much they needed to talk about. There was still so much love to share between them, he just couldn’t leave him here…

“Duo,” he faintly whispered.

“Yuy, the statue..!”

Wufei was faster, and dragged Heero away from Quinze, who was ready to fire as soon as he saw the other two running, grimacing as he realized he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. He only managed to shoot once, and he lacked Merquise’s finesse with a gun; the bullet hit a slab of stone, quite a distance away from either Heero or Wufei. Enraged, the elder man tried to follow them, at the same time the Guardian thrust his arm with the trident forward. With a high-pitched scream, Quinze was pinned to the outer wall of the shrine, his body mangled from the force of the weapon, and he was dead before his gun hit the floor, released by his lifeless hand.

The shrine was caving in, large chunks of rock and stone falling down from the ceiling. The wooden balcony collapsed, sending debris down, crashing and covering Heero and Wufei in splinters and dust. The golden statue used his other arms to punch the walls, going berserk, while Duo stood in front of it, seemingly untouched and resistant to the destruction around him. There wasn’t even a speck of dust on his clothes, black as his eyes and lips. Heero screamed his voice raw, calling Duo’s name as clouds of dust shrouded his vision.

Wufei forcefully dragged Heero along, through the maze of tunnels and corridors under the Royal Palace. He all but tore Heero’s clothing, but he would do anything it would take to get Heero to come along; a torn piece of fabric was the least of his problems. In a daze, Heero stumbled along with him, his eyes not seeing where he was going, and Duo’s name on his lips, repeating as in a mantra.

----------------------

It’s cold in here, Duo thought. He wrapped his arms around himself - was he naked or was he wearing clothes? He couldn’t remember. Hilde designed his outfits, she had invented that strange material that adapted itself to its surroundings, to every change in temperature… Hil.. Hilde? The name rang a bell, but it didn’t register. Was he wearing clothes? He looked at his hand and saw his flesh - no clothes. Huh. No wonder I’m cold.

There was nothing around him. No walls, no horizon. It was…blandness, as far as he could see. It was neither dark nor light, black or white, high or low. He was just…here, wherever ‘here’ was.

“Heero?” He could speak, but his voice died as soon as he parted his lips, the name fading away from him. Heero, yes, Heero. He could remember him, couldn’t he? Why did he have such a difficult time envisioning him? What did Heero look like again? Dark, chocolate brown hair. No, no, light hair. Just like himself! Did he have hair?

“I wonder where I am,” he said, but the words died again, leaving him without being spoken. His eyes saw, but there was nothing to see. He couldn’t determine where he was…and he didn’t care. He wanted to sit down, feeling tired all of the sudden - but there was still fear inside of him, and he knew that if he was going to sit down, he was never going to get back up again.

Anger. Fuck you. Stupid bitch. Idiot. He growled in response, baring his teeth, and Duo looked behind him, hands clenched into fists, ready to fight. There was no one in sight.

Where are you, my love? A painful longing, a raw desire, bitter disappointment. His anger forgotten, he wanted to cry, a sob hitching in his throat as he felt pain, pain that he didn’t want to feel, it left him vulnerable.

I love you. “Who’s there?” he asked, and this time he screamed. He yelled, he raged, he cried out, the infinite nothingness grating on his nerves. “Show yourself!”

“It’s just me.”

The hand on his shoulder startled him, and Duo turned around again, his braid whipping. He gaped.

“Jezus!”

A solemn smile was his answer. “Not by a mile, kid.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

He wanted to embrace him, but Solo Maxwell raised his hand to stop him in his movement.

“Don’t. Don’t touch the dead.”

“But-” Even though his voice was solid now, he sounded like a mewling cat. Everything seemed to be distorted in this environment, and Duo wished he had his guns, something he could defend himself with.

“Guns won’t help you here,” Solo said. He looked exactly the way Duo had seen him before the casket was closed; the ghastly, white-washed and puffy face of a drowning victim. Solo’s eyes were blank, a haze over them, and his hair was plastered against his face. For some reason, it had refused to dry completely, and when he was buried, his hair had still been wet.

“Where am I?” He already knew.

“The realm of the dead.” Solo shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

“So I’m dead.”

“I didn’t say that.” Solo smiled and he pulled his hand back from Duo’s shoulder. The cuts in his flesh hadn’t healed either. He had washed up ashore with the mysterious shards embedded in his hands and arms. Their foolish quest for Atlantis. “Duo, I’ve always warned you for reassembling artefacts.”

“I’m not sure what happened,” Duo mumbled. The mixture of shame, sadness and joy he felt when seeing his brother was confusing him. “The Never-Ending Circle was broken into two, and when I climbed that statue I discovered the blade, and it suddenly fit together…”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Solo interrupted him, albeit not unfriendly. He ruffled Duo’s hair. “It’s good to see you again. You look good. A little pale, but well, that’s what you get when you get here.”

“I get to spend eternity with you?” Duo asked. He stepped closer to Solo again, but his brother shook his head and raised his hands.

“Don’t touch me, Duo. If you touch me, you’re dead.”

“But I am dead.”

“No, you’re not. You can see me and talk to me because you are in the realm of the dead…as its master.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m sorry,” Solo said. He showed a weak smile. “You became part of this all when you assembled the Never-Ending Circle, Duo.”

“How…how would you know?” Duo felt desperate. Realm of the dead. Oh Gods, Heero. Why was he thinking about Heero all of the sudden? It was strange, but he could see his face, right in front of him, and yet…he couldn’t see. Was Heero here? Was he here? Where was he again?

“Duo, stay focused!” Solo’s sharp voice brought him back to his senses, and he shivered violently when he saw the deteriorated face of his brother so close to his own. “Do I scare you?” he asked.

“I miss you,” was all that Duo answered.

“I miss you too,” Solo said. His voice was strangely neutral, but Duo could pick up the slightest intonation of fondness. “I don’t have much time, Duo. I managed to reach you in time, but there’s not much left. Listen to me. I read about the Never-Ending Circle before, way before it was even uncovered. The only thing you have to do is to break it apart again. If you don’t break it, Shinigami will become the strongest force inside you…and you’re not cut out to be the God of Death, Duo.”

“Stop making such horrible jokes,” Duo said, shaking his head. “I’m hallucinating. I’m not here. I’m not there. I-”

“Silence!” Solo cut him off. “Listen…do you hear that? Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Duo whispered, closing his eyes even if he didn’t know why. Solo. Why are you here? You’re dead. I’m dead too, right? Huh, I always thought I would go out with a bang…what is it? I can’t…

Where are you, Inochigami?

“I…”

“Focus on that, brother,” Solo said, his voice ringing in his ears. “My time is up. Break it again, Duo. Break the scythe, or you’ll lose yourself. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Duo snorted and wanted to open his eyes to take a last look at Solo. He found he couldn’t open his eyes, and the next second he started to panic. The blandness around him had turned black, and he heard screams, screams of agonizing pain, screams that would haunt him in his nightmares forever. Maybe he was screaming too, he didn’t know. There was only one thing he knew that was for real: the longing he felt when the strange name of Inochigami rang through his soul, was the same longing he felt for Heero.

I’m so sorry, my love. You’re not him, and I’m not him either. Forgive me.

-----------------------

Bright, harsh sunlight shone upon them as they reached the surface - Heero squinted his eyes, coughing loudly, choking and gasping when fresh air flooded his lungs. He fell on his knees, inhaling and exhaling with loud, intense breaths; he’d spend hours under the ground, in an almost toxic environment, searching for the Never-Ending Circle, but all that he found was the God of Death… and lost Duo in the process.

As soon as he got up, still wheezing, Heero noticed the caravan of luxurious Land Rovers parked at the south side of a mansion. He knew immediately it had to be Khushrenada and his entourage; a wild, blinding anger overpowered him and he ran towards the sturdy cars, before Wufei could even think of stopping him.

“Monster!” He yelled. “You selfish monster! This is all your fault!”

Despite the horrors they’d been through, two of Khushrenada’s men came to his defense, blocking Heero’s way before he could reach the man. Heero doubted it was a matter of loyalty; but as it was, these two held bigger guns than he did and they weren’t afraid of pointing them at him, right at the chest.

“Monster?” Khushrenada barked a short laugh, feeling safe behind the backs of his hired troops. He looked disheveled, clothing torn and smudged, and he pressed a wad of gauze to the small cut on his neck. “I think the real monster was…is inside.”

“Don’t you dare,” Heero hissed, “Don’t you dare call him a monster!”

“I am afraid it is nothing but the truth, Mister Yuy. I am sorry for the loss of your friend.” Khushrenada wasn’t looking at Heero, but at Merquise who was in the passenger’s seat, silent, eyes closed; he was in urgent need of medical attention, the blood loss posing a real danger to his life. “I am also afraid I do not have any time for this.”

“Stop hiding, you coward,” Heero said. He was aware of Wufei coming to stand close to him, but he ignored him for now. “Stop hiding and face me!”

There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by a soft chuckle. A nervous chuckle, and Khushrenada hoisted himself up on the driver’s seat, strapping himself into the seat belts.

“I disband your commission, Mister Yuy. The expedition is off! I owe you nothing, and for your information, I do not hide behind anything.” He threw a nervous look at the rear view mirror, but nothing was moving; the Royal Palace bathed in sunlight. “I take it the Never-Ending Circle is buried under tons and tons of rock, making it impossible to retrieve it ever again - too bad…but as my…friend of the White Fang has seemed to have perished, I do not owe him anything either. It is over, Mister Yuy. You would do best as to accept that.”

“Asshole!” Heero yelled at him as Khushrenada started the engine. The two men exchanged glances and didn’t deem Heero much of a threat, as they hurried away to another Land Rover about to drive off; they didn’t want to be left behind in this country.

“Treize,” Wufei spoke up.

Khushrenada pressed the gauze harder to his neck. His other hand rested on the clutch of the Land Rover, with Merquise, pale as a ghost, silently next to him. He threw an impatient look at Wufei, lips snarling uncharacteristically.

“I hold my oath to you hereby fulfilled,” Wufei curtly said. “There is no more honor and justice to be found here.”

Khushrenada’s eyes widened for a brief moment, then he snorted derisively. “Whatever you want, Chang. Fine. I am getting out of here!” He dropped the wad of gauze and gripped the steering wheel as he shifted gears, his foot hitting the gas pedal. The vehicle roared and sped forward, the large wheels throwing up gravel and dust in their wake. A lot of Land Rovers stayed behind, empty - only a few had survived the onslaught in the shrine. Khushrenada’s army had been decimated; their broken bodies rested under the tons and tons of debris.

Heero turned around, facing the palace.

“Where are you going, Yuy?”

“Duo is in there somewhere,” he answered. “If you want a ride, feel free to take any of these cars or my car, it’s parked just ahead.”

“Yuy, the ghosts of the dead…”

“Silence!”

Wufei was taken aback, then schooled his face into his previous neutral expression. “As you wish.”

Heero opened his mouth, but shut it again. His stomach was growling, his muscles were protesting, and his body ached all over - but he didn’t care, everything paled in comparison to finding Duo. His thoughts were jumbled, but only one stood out: the ghosts of the dead. The God of Death had claimed the one he loved, and Shinigami himself had been desperately searching for the one he loved. Inochigami. Why hadn’t he just lied, and pretended to be his lover? Shinigami-Duo would’ve never become enraged…but he had kissed him, and determined for himself he wasn’t his Inochigami. He wasn’t his God of Life, he wasn’t the one bringing him life. Duo wasn’t dead, Heero was sure of it. Shinigami wouldn’t destroy a perfect healthy and young body - he had to find his Inochigami, wherever he was.

“Yuy. Yuy!”

“Huh?”

“Look at the Palace,” Wufei said.

He blinked. The building was…shaking. Huge cracks appeared in the plaster, and the outer walls collapsed, the sun-bleached red tiles breaking apart in bits and pieces. Dust clouded where stone and brick crumbled down, and the large dome in the center of the Palace split open. The ground started to rumble, and he had to step aside to regain his footing, whereas Wufei simply looked at the Palace and remained in perfect balance; the face of his friend stood grim.

A bright light forced him into moving his hand above his eyes, but he already knew what it was before it had appeared. The golden Guardian-statue had worked its way up, above the surface, and perched on his shoulder was Shinigami-Duo, or what was left of him.

Wufei unsheathed his katana, but Heero didn’t reach for his shotgun. He was too baffled, too stunned, and his body was nailed to the ground. The Guardian shrugged off the remnants of the dome, its five arms, weapons in his hands, clearing its way. Shinigami looked small in comparison to the statue, but there was nothing small about the black wings protruding from his shoulders. They spanned past the Guardian’s head, totally in disproportion with his body, but nonetheless intimidating. The Never-Ending Circle, having grown twice it size, was so big he fitted under it, the blade describing a perfect arch above his head.

“Maxwell,” Wufei said, with a strange sadness to his voice. “This… no one deserves this.”

“He’s still Duo,” Heero answered stubbornly. He looked up, forcing himself to watch the creature on the Guardian’s shoulder. Despite the distance, he could see Shinigami-Duo’s expression perfectly; black lips mouthing the name of the love he was searching for, eyes longing to hold the one he missed so much. The blade of the scythe glowed green, its tip touching the cheek of the Guardian; the statue didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Readying its weapons, it aimed at Heero and Wufei.

“Stop it, Shinigami,” Heero said, voice nothing but a whisper. “If you really love your Inochigami, go back to sleep and wake up in his arms. Give me my Duo back.”

“Yuy, you are insane.” Wufei couldn’t help but stare at the weapons in the Guardian’s arms, the trident still dripping with blood. “I want to help your friend, but this is insane!”

“Just kill me,” Heero said.

“What?”

“Just kill me.” Heero didn’t break his eye-contact with Shinigami-Duo. Wufei grabbed him at the shoulder again, shaking him.

“Snap out of it, Yuy!”

“Just kill me,” he repeated. “If that is what you want. If that is what it takes to give me my Duo back.”

“You are amusing,” Shinigami-Duo said. “All you humans are amusing. Yes, I am going to amuse myself in this world.” A screeching sound announced a movement from his wings, spreading them to their full, impressive width. “I will take your life, Inochigami-impostor.”

I will find you, Duo, wherever you are.

He lifted up the scythe and disentangled himself from the statue, movements light and elegant, as an angel floating in the sky.

“Yuy, this is not going to end right!” Wufei held his katana up high, assuming a stance.

“Run, Wufei,” Heero said, his eyes wide. He wanted to face what was coming, he wanted to see Shinigami-Duo coming for him. He wanted to face him head-on, he wasn’t afraid. “Run. Leave!”

“You…” Wufei’s words were lost to him. Shinigami was fast, and it was only a matter of seconds…maybe one second only. The scythe was at his neck, the green light shining in his eyes, the face of the God so close that he could see the countless souls taken in his eyes, and the scream of agonizing pain was either theirs or his, he didn’t know.

Found you.

-------------------------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 8

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 16:09:30 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, major character death!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

--------------------

The empty, abandoned Game Shop drove Yuugi almost to tears. The store had been the pride of joy of his grandfather, and the headquarters and symbol of the Resistance. He looked over his shoulders more than three times as he walked away from the last thing he had ever owned.

“We will return here, Yuugi,” Anzu told him encouragingly, but he knew she said that exactly because of that - to encourage him. Her words were hollow, even though he was convinced she meant every word. They could never come true, now that they were gearing towards the final confrontation, and he was afraid he would never set foot in the Game Shop again. This was going to be a fight, and casualties would fall, innocents would be killed, the whole world would… no! No one would die today. Yuugi frowned upon his gloomy thoughts. If it were up to him, he would confront the Pharaoh alone, but everyone had reacted in horror to his suggestion, except for Mahaado.

“Please, let me talk to Great Pharaoh first, I can… calm him down,” the magician-General had said. Jounouchi had objected, claiming that Mahaado would immediately chose the Pharaoh’s side, to which the magician had calmly answered that yes, he would chose the Pharaoh’s side immediately.

“My loyalty is for Great Pharaoh only,” he had added. “I am the only one he will listen to without any reservations. I am not looking to destroy any of you. If I had wanted to do that, I have had plenty of opportunity these last days. Do not fear. Allow me to talk to Great Pharaoh first, and we can bring this all to a good end.”

Yuugi squeezed the bundle he held in his arms; a roll of blankets and a few extra pieces of clothing. He didn’t have much possessions, and he certainly didn’t dispose over any guns; Yuugi hated fighting and violence, and the irony didn’t escape him that in this situation, he had nothing to offer his friends but the same empty and hollow words. All these years, all this time, people had put their faith in him, trusted him…but when the time had come to actually do something, there was not much they could do but to run and hide.

Still, Yuugi wanted everyone to survive, even if that meant hiding and running - everything was better than to fight and die. But he realized, just as well as anyone else, that running and hiding wouldn’t end the situation. Gozaburo had the advantage of his powerful Generals and his Elite Troops, and they wouldn’t give up their position just like that. The Resistance had nothing but their fists to fight, and their hope and faith to hold onto.

“Yuugi?” Jounouchi walked next to him.

“Jounouchi-kun,” he said.

“Yuugi, you look like you’re about to walk right into your grave.”

“Onii-chan!”

“Sorry, sorry, Shizuka,” Jounouchi apologized and hid his face behind the bundle he was carrying; more blankets, with candles, matches and bottles of lamp oil rolled into them. “Still, my comment stands, Yuugi.”

“I will confront the Pharaoh even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do,” Yuugi said, determined. “You have put all this faith into me for all those years, and it’s not your fault that I never did something to…”

“Wait, what, what was that again?” Jounouchi said, dumbfounded. “You never did something?”

“I never fought,” Yuugi said. “I never tried to acquire guns, weapons, any means of power to dethrone Gozaburo, I never did something to relief Gozaburo of his power, to overthrow him…”

“Yuugi, we know your choice of fighting isn’t with weapons,” Anzu said. Her eyes brimmed with compassion, and her voice was calm. “Mine neither. Your way of fighting was different, but not any less important: you gave so many people a reason to live, by giving them shelter, by giving them that very same hope and faith for a better, new world. Without you, there wouldn’t be a Resistance in the first place.”

“You wouldn’t be our Yuugi-kun if you would give us guns and ordered us to start shooting,” Shizuka piped up.

“Face it Yuugi, you’re not a fighter in the sense of physical combat, but you’re a fighter in many other ways,” Honda agreed. “Like Anzu said,” he shared a look with his fiancée, “your way of fighting is different, but no one can hold onto a gun unless he has a goal to believe in and have hope for.”
Yuugi blushed faintly. He was grateful for the support of his friends. It was times like these that he regarded them as more as friends - as family.

Everyone had lost loved ones, and friendships were usually shallow and fleeting in this insecurity - but Yuugi knew his friends would never desert him, and vice versa; their bond was way, way too strong. He nodded, and didn’t pursue the topic; he had to concentrate at the matter at hand. Honda had returned earlier from scouting the area, with nothing to report. No one was in sight… yet. No one either was saying a word about Mahaado being in their midst. The General walked in utter silence, using his staff as a cane, it clicked on the ground with every step he took.

Malik and Bakura didn’t participate in the conversation. They weren’t carrying anything but their Items, glistening in the early morning sun. Bakura’s Ring chimed as he walked, the prongs dancing on his chest, whereas Malik’s Rod was tucked firmly into his belt loop, the menacing sharp blades pressing against his back. Both their faces were set in stone, looking grim, which had an involuntarily comical effect on Bakura; his face was just too soft and gentle to be carrying that kind of expression. Malik however, looked like he could eat barbed wire for breakfast, and everybody left those two alone. Yuugi wanted to know what Isis had told them exactly, but found it inappropriate to ask either Malik or Bakura about it.

While knowing that every other member of the Resistance had been evacuated into safety, Yuugi was worried about his own close friends. He hoped and prayed he could bring this all to a good ending, without anyone suffering. He didn’t even want the Pharaoh to suffer - if it were up to him, they would talk to one another, with the help of Mahaado, and work out the misunderstandings in the world. Jounouchi wasn’t that far off by calling him naïve, Yuugi was well aware of it, but he had at least to give it a try, for his own sake. His grandfather and his own father had taught him that, and he would respect their teachings.

“Let’s just move on,” he murmured, and suddenly noticed that a large shadow was falling over him. Just as he was about to ask if anyone else noticed that shadow, Mahaado urged them to take cover.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Jounouchi hissed. He stopped breathing when a low, growling sound rumbled through the sky. Shaking, he looked up, along with everyone else…and a large, gigantic large, humongous large, red beast flew over his head, wings spread out, as if carried by the wind.

“Osiris,” Mahaado said reverently and inclined his head. “Fortunately, he has not seen us. He is probably focused on my… Great Pharaoh only. This is bad. I did not expect him to already summon a God. Osiris is not weak, and he will attack on sight if he spots anyone other but Great Pharaoh.”

“I’ve never seen something like that before,” Anzu panted and squeezed Honda’s arm. Shizuka had flung herself into her brother’s arms, gift basket upside down on the ground. She had dropped it as soon as she heard the menacing rumble. Unable to identify - and see - its source, she searched for protection, from the only person she trusted unconditionally: Jounouchi.

“Anzu-san, Shizuka-chan, go immediately to the shelters and wait there for us,” Yuugi said. “It’s far too dangerous for you outside, and…”

“No, I’ll stay with onii-chan,” Shizuka said. “I’m sorry, Yuugi-kun, but I can’t leave him alone..!”

“It’s too dangerous, Shizuka-chan,” he repeated. “Please. Please go with Anzu-san…”

“I’m staying too,” Anzu said, though her voice was shaky. “I’m staying with Honda. If anyone of you gets hurt…”

Yuugi threw her a look to practically beg her, but she shook her head. Mahaado tapped with his staff on the ground.

“We better follow the God; where he is, Great Pharaoh will be closeby.”
“Great Pharaoh this, Great Pharaoh that, I’m getting so tired of that dude,” Jounouchi muttered.

“We have no other way to refer to him, Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said. “He doesn’t have a name.”

“Well then, boo-hoo.”

“Onii-chan!”

“Silence!” Mahaado turned around. “If you want Osiris to return and burn you all to death, keep talking as loud like that! The God will not make any discern between all of us.”

Jounouchi remained silent, offended, and kept his grip on Shizuka who had forgotten all about her precious gift basket. Honda and Anzu followed with Malik and Bakura in tow, and Yuugi closed the line.

“Hey,” Jounouchi spoke up again, though this time with far less volume, “isn’t this the intersection where we…”

“Yeah,” Honda whispered in return, his arm almost turning blue from Anzu’s tight grip. “I know what you mean, buddy.” It was the same intersection where they had captured Mahaado.

“Silence,” the General said again, but without any commanding tone to it. “I can see them from here.” His face suddenly fell. “He has Marik and Bakura with him.”

“What? They’re right here,” Jounouchi said, mishearing Marik’s name. Malik was already moving forward, but Yuugi grabbed him at the arm.

“Not yet.”

“Stay here,” Mahaado said. “I will take care of this. As soon as I have calmed him down, I will raise my staff, all right? You can come out then.”

“I hope that whatever you’re going to say to him, works,” Jounouchi said.

Yuugi couldn’t make out if his friend was serious or not, and felt his stomach clench and coil from the anxiety. His view was partially obscured, and the intersection was large; he couldn’t really make out what was going on.
Mahaado nodded and started to cross the road, his staff resting at his hip.

The magician-General felt calmness descend upon him with every step that he took; every step brought him closer to his Pharaoh. Soon, everything would be all right. He could see him standing from here; the smaller man was talking to both Marik and Bakura, who were so focused on him that they forgot to keep an eye out on the streets. Their dedication to the Pharaoh might be commendable, but they were lousy bodyguards. Mahaado suppressed his urge to snort out loud.

“… can’t you concentrate on his heka and feel it?”

“You can, my Pharaoh. When you take off that armor.” Mahaado’s voice rolled over the empty intersection, and all three in front of him were startled, surprised by the sudden voice. The Pharaoh turned around with disbelief on his face, immediately replacing it with a look of pure excitement when he recognized Mahaado.

The General immediately bowed, his knee on the pavement as he folded his robes around him. Approaching the Pharaoh without armor would hopefully show the other that he was all right and that nothing bad had happened to him.

“Mahaado! Thank the Gods!” The Pharaoh stepped towards him. “Get up, get up!”

“Thank you, my Pharaoh,” Mahaado said and ignored Marik’s glare, dripping with hatred, and Bakura’s indifferent, yet cautious look at him. He rose and was surprised to see the Pharaoh standing so close to him that they were merely inches apart.

“I am all right - nothing has happened to me. In fact, the Resistance took great care of me,” he said.

“The Resistance,” the Pharaoh hissed and Osiris was so close the magician-General could feel - and smell - its breath. “They took you away from me.”

“We need to talk, my Pharaoh,” Mahaado said. “Please. You have to take off your armor, it is influencing you in a bad way. Trust me, my Pharaoh, I have never lied to you.”

“Pretty Pharaoh isn’t allowed to take his armor off,” Marik immediately cried out.

“Gozaburo doesn’t like it when he’s out of his armor,” Bakura said at the same time. Mahaado threw them a disdainful look.

“And exactly why, my Pharaoh, do you think that Gozaburo insists you wear it? It protects you, yes, but it also hinders you.”

The Pharaoh’s hand went to his chest, searching for something that wasn’t there. “It does not hinder me, Mahaado. I need it to search for my Puzzle…”

“My Pharaoh,” Mahaado said and extended his hand. “You are very tired, and you have been used by Gozaburo all this time, each and every day. We have to sit down and talk about this calmly. You know it yourself, when you look deep down your heart, that things are not normal, not the way they used to be…”

“Pharaoh-sama, he’s lying,” Bakura said. He showed Mahaado a similar disdainful look. “Why are you so hyped up about Pharaoh-sama to take off his armor?”

“I like to see pretty Pharaoh strip in the middle of the street too,” Marik added, “but it’s dangerous out here, and you want him to take off his armor why?”

“Do not be stupid,” Mahaado said. He waved with his hand. “I do not want anything to happen to my Pharaoh. We will have to go sit down somewhere, and talk this over quietly and rationally…”

“Pretty magician-General is brainwashed by the Resistance,” Marik suddenly said. “He would never suggest taking off your armor, pretty Pharaoh!”

Bakura agreed. “The only reason why he wants you to take it off, is to make you vulnerable! Don’t believe him, Pharaoh-sama!”

Mahaado was taken aback by their words, and raised his hands in defense, before lowering them down the next second. He didn’t need to defend himself against these two, and he didn’t owe them any explanation. His words were for the Pharaoh only, who seemed high-strung and at the very end of his nerves. Please believe me, Mahaado pleaded mentally. I am your friend, I am your loyal servant. You know I am right, you have to know I am right… Gods, what did Gozaburo do to you? It was only then, he realized, that the offending armor the Pharaoh was wearing, was different. It wasn’t the purplish one, but a dark midnight blue; he had never seen this one before. Judging from the tense, yet unbalanced look in the Pharaoh’s eyes, Mahaado was convinced that Gozaburo had altered this armor even more to make him react this slow and unstable. His Pharaoh would never hesitate or doubt him.

“Is it true?”

“I have not been brainwashed, my Pharaoh,” Mahaado said. “Quite the contrary. The Resistance has taken good care of me after my capture, which did not have to happen in the first place if Marik and Bakura had paid more attention.”

The Pharaoh turned his head around to the other two, who frowned, but quickly put up a weak smile.

“Pretty Pharaoh already punished us,” Marik took a step forward, “so don’t think you can hold it against us any longer, pretty magician-General. You lie. You keep pretty Pharaoh away from us. You should go. Go away!”

“Yes, go,” the Pharaoh repeated.

“No, my Pharaoh,” Mahaado said. “I will not go. I will not go before we have put an end to this. Not until we have talked this over and you are out of Gozaburo’s hands. Please. You are very tired, my Pharaoh. Summoning and maintaining Osiris this close must deplete you of all your strength..!”

“Now he wants you to call back God!” Bakura protested. He narrowed his eyes, recognizing an opportunity to dispose himself of the magician-General. “Pharaoh-sama, I would say that your friend here is clearly deluded, brainwashed, and is trying to persuade you to do things to leave you vulnerable and open for an attack!”

“Enough!” The Pharaoh cut him off, and Mahaado’s hopes sprang up once again. Osiris however, opened its mouth and hovered close to the Pharaoh, and the magician-General didn’t dare to move, nailed to his spot.

“I have found you, my friend,” the Pharaoh spoke, with a distinct tone of affection in his voice. “We will return to the tower and we will all stay together.”

“No, we can not go back. My Pharaoh, do you not see how you have been manipulated? All this destruction, all this pain and anger… you are suffering, I am suffering, we are all suffering. There has to be a way we can solve this. There is reason…”

“Lies.” Marik was close to the Pharaoh, but his pupil-less eyes were focused on Mahaado. “We won’t listen to your lies. Gozaburo has always taken good care of us.”

“The man has beaten you, Marik,” Mahaado said, quite surprised about the other’s vehemence to defend the man who had caused him so much pain. “You are still showing the scars…”

Marik licked his lips. “Pretty pain is nothing if it means I can be with pretty Pharaoh.”

Bakura didn’t add to the conversation, and his eyes darted over the streets. With a bit of luck, he could discredit Mahaado enough to cause a rift between him and the Pharaoh, so he wouldn’t be as enamored with him as before. Just as Bakura was about to say something, his sharp eyes caught a minor movement across the intersection… the direction Mahaado had come from. He mastered the Shadows, and they told him that there were people hiding in them.

“Who are watching us, Mahaado?” he asked.

Taken by surprise, the magician-General turned his head. “What do you mean?”

“There are people over there.” Bakura pointed across the street, squinting his eyes. The sun was rising, but Osiris’ shadow was still large, and where there was a shadow, Bakura could control it.

“They are humans,” Mahaado said. “Hoping for this world to stop living in terror, to be free of all that haunts them.”

“Are there any Elite Troops nearby?” the Pharaoh asked.

“Not that I know of,” Marik said. “We can always send some troops over here to wipe out this whole area.”

“No!” Mahaado barked, and everything happened at the same time. He lifted up his hand and realized too late that it was his hand holding the staff. Osiris’ mouth became a hot furnace, heat and light concentrating for an attack, Marik and Bakura both lunged forward, and darkness loomed over the city for one second, only to be replaced by bright light, too bright to look at, and the next second the whole world was turned upside down, stone, rubble and sand flying through the sky, fire melting asphalt and metal, and the intersection turned into a massive crater.

-------------------------------------------------

“Buddy… hey buddy, are you all right?”

“Stop shaking me Jounouchi, you know I hate it when you shake me like that.”

“Oh shut up, you love me.”

Honda coughed and winced from the pain. He felt like he had been run over, or had met with a massive wall and the wall crumbled down on him. It didn’t help that he was covered with debris and chunks of cement. He dusted himself off, coughing once more.

“What the hell happened?”

“I dunno, man. Let me help you up.” Jounouchi looked like he had suffered the same fate; his clothing was torn, and the lower part of his shirt was scorched, the exposed skin showing a suspiciously raw and red color. His arms and face were smudged and clumps of dirt stuck in his wild hair. He stood upright, albeit weakly, and bend over to remove the rubble on Honda’s legs.

“Can you roll over?”

Honda groaned as he obeyed. His body felt heavy, muscles aching all over. Jounouchi reached for him and helped him up. Honda swayed a little until he found his balance again.

“Man, that so wasn’t funny.”

Jounouchi dusted off his clothes, ignoring his burned skin. “We have to find the others. Fast.”

Honda could tell his friend was anxious, and he knew exactly why - Shizuka wasn’t with him. He was sure he had seen the girl latched onto her brother before the explosion, but she was nowhere to be seen. This didn’t bode very well for Shizuka’s fate, alone and disorientated. This was no time to take it easy;; they had to find Shizuka, and fast indeed.

“We’ll find her. We’ll find her alive and well, Jounouchi.”

The other nodded, a grim look on his face, and opened his mouth to reply when he was interrupted by a cackle.

“Alive and well… you humans always hold the frailest hopes, and shed stupid tears when you find your hopes dead.”

“This isn’t the time, Bakura,” Honda said, growling. The boy apparently had survived without as much as a speck of dirt on him, even though his hair was ruffled and wild, and he lacked the gloomy, black trenchcoat he used to wear. Like the others, Honda had barely interacted with Bakura or Malik, but he hadn’t expected the shy, quiet Bakura to say such… creepy things.
Jounouchi turned around and shook his fist at him. “You better help us find my sister, or get out of my way!”

“What way?”

“Malik,” Jounouchi said, “where the hell…”

He halted mid-sentence. The other person joining Bakura looked like Malik, looked strikingly similar when it came to physique and the look on his face, but it wasn’t him - if only for his hair, which was definitely very different.. it was just as menacing as his scowl, ten times more intense and filled with pure hatred than his namesake.

“I don’t think these are the Malik and Bakura we know,” Honda said slowly.

“Isis and Yuugi mentioned something about bodyguards, right?” Jounouchi’s eyes darted over the debris, scanning for something to use as a weapon. Honda gritted through his teeth. Their opponents looked skinny yet wiry, and he knew better than to have looks deceive him. Honda was a fighter, and he had encountered heavy-set people moving like the wind and small people showing the same strength as a professional wrestler. From the looks of these two, they were as unpredictable as they came - which made it even more difficult. Both he and Jounouchi shifted into a fight stance, back to back, close to each other.

“You know Isis,” another voice spoke. A much smaller person came to stand between them, and surprisingly, the two stepped, reverently, to the side. “Where is she?”

“Yuugi? What the hell..!”

They both knew he wasn’t Yuugi. Even though he was exactly the same height and had similar hair - they had always thought no one, but absolutely no one else could have the same hair as absurd as Yuugi - and even his voice was the same, only a few octaves lower… he wasn’t Yuugi. It was the armor, of course. Yuugi would never wear something as menacing yet pompous as that, never mind that it looked pretty much indestructible. It could never be Yuugi, not after they had caught his eyes, and his eyes were hard to miss. Honda heard Jounouchi gulping just before he did the same. If he had thought that the sneering disdain in Bakura’s voice or the hatred-filled menace on Marik’s face had been bad, it all paled in comparison to those blood red, anger and destruction filled narrow eyes, framed with exceptionally long, dark lashes which in a strange way stressed the bloody color of the pupils.

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead,” Jounouchi bluntly replied. “She told us all about you, Pharaoh dude.”

Honda heaved a sigh. Diplomacy had never been Jounouchi’s forte. He quickly tried to estimate their chances. Maybe they could fight those two bodyguards, but with the Pharaoh around…however, that red dragon beast was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the God was gone?

“You will pay for this insolence,” the Pharaoh hissed. “The fire of heavens will descend upon you!”

“Blah blah blah,” Jounouchi said.

“Pretty Ishizu sister is dead?” The Malik-lookalike actually seemed to be affected by this news. The Bakura-clone just threw him a death glare, and punched against his shoulder.

“Careful Jounouchi, don’t piss him off. If he’s going to summon another God, we’re definitely toast,” Honda whispered to his friend.

“They are telling lies,” the Pharaoh said. “They are responsible for what happened to Mahaado. They will have to die!”

“Hey now, wait a minute-”

“Summon pretty golden God, pretty Pharaoh,” the Malik-lookalike spoke, “we’ll keep this vermin away from you.”

“Vermin?” Jounouchi took a few steps forward, balling his fists. “Who do you dare call vermin? It’s because of assholes like you that we needed to hide…”

“And you had better stayed in your holes,” Bakura answered. “Summon the God, Pharaoh-sama. We’ll take out this Resistance once and for all, and cleanse this city!”

“We can’t let him get away,” Honda growled. “We can’t allow him the time to summon another God!”

“Leave it to me!” Jounouchi sped forwards, his fists clenched, ready to throw a punch. He suddenly gagged and choked, when someone forcefully tugged at his shirt.

“No, Jounouchi.”

“What?”

Even the Pharaoh had to do a double take when he saw the other two who had just about arrived. Smudged and bruised, but alive and kicking, and unmistakably the mirror images of Marik and Bakura. He exchanged looks of utter confusion and bewilderment with them. Bakura shrugged, whereas Marik pursed his lips, his eyes radiating even more hatred.

“Summon pretty golden God,” he repeated. “We’ll deal with this vermin, and we’ll end this all in one, giant blow!”

Bakura nodded. Wherever this look-alike had popped up from, he was certain he could send him back. He was patient, he could deal with a sudden change of plans. There was always an advantage to a change, and he had no qualms fighting off a doppelganger, even if he did have to -

“They have Items,” he said and now a slight hint of fear trickled into his voice.

“What? Those weak little shitheads,” Marik said, but his tone changed too - warily, cautiously.

The other Bakura’s pendant was visible, the prongs rattling against his chest. Malik reached behind him, taking out the Sennen Rod from his belt loop.

“Jounouchi, Honda, go after the Pharaoh,” Malik said calmly while his fingers curled itself around the Rod. With a click, he broke the Rod apart. Jounouchi blinked when he saw that Malik didn’t break it, but merely unscrewed it, the click revealing a small mechanism to take it apart, showing a very nasty, very sharp dagger. He looked at it in morbid fascination, until Honda whacked at his elbow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He hurriedly pushed Jounouchi out of the way, after throwing a last look at Malik.

“You are the darkness of my mind and soul,” he snarled. “My sister told me about you, and how you were created. That’s what you are - a creation. And any creation can be killed!”

“Such nice words,” Marik said, though his eyes followed every movement with the Rod, especially the dagger. “What more did pretty Ishizu sister say before she died? Did you kill her? I guess you did, didn’t you? Such a pretty light, surrounded by Darkness…”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Malik stepped closer, holding the dagger in front of him with every intention to stab the other. “You have no right, no reason, no meaning to exist!”

“I’ll take the pretty gold Item from you,” Marik spoke excitedly, facing Malik with his arms wide open, inviting to hurt him, fingers clawed. “I’ll take it from you, and use it to slit your fucking throat!”

---------------------------

Otogi was convinced his hairs had turned gray spontaneously. He had to have aged considerably during the last few hours. He didn’t have a mirror handy to verify it, but all this tension and sneaking around weren’t exactly helpful for his already high strung nerves. With every move he made, the bag he was holding rattled conspicuously; the Items were all lumped together. They were fairly grand in size, and at the last moment, Otogi had snatched a heavy golden box from the vault, emptying it of all its flashy golden objects. It didn’t look like an Item, but who knows - whatever it was, if it turned out to be an Item, Otogi had saved himself the trouble of going back to the vault for another time. The tension and suspense were killing him.

Kaiba had been right - the building was operating on half its usual electrical power. It worked in their advantage, as a few locks on the vault had been considerably weakened by this. Kaiba had taken care of the other locks while Otogi was climbing the emergency stairs, on his way to the 47th floor. How exactly Kaiba had done it, he didn’t know, but Otogi had been able to open the vault door with one swift tug at the handle. The door was heavy and as soon as he could fit his arm through, he had fished out the Items and stuffed them into the bag, all the while his heart beating like a jackhammer.

The floor was empty, much to his surprise. He took it that everyone was still busy upstairs, now that the Pharaoh had blown away the top floor. How long would his lucky streak hold on? He wasted precious time listening to footsteps, a cough, any noise indicating someone being around. The silence was almost eerie, suspicious. He couldn’t afford to linger here, and the nerve-wrecking fear of getting caught all but paralyzed him. Otogi had to force himself to take each and every step - if he was caught once more, the Kaiba brothers couldn’t help him. Another step, and the gold inside the bag jingled. In the deserted emergency staircase every little sound echoed and Otogi stood still, startled. He realized it were just the Items, cluttered together in the bag; he made for a bad burglar, and every second took away another decade of his lifespan. Just two more floors! It was taking him ages, and he didn’t have that much time left. More so, he didn’t have time in the first place; he should’ve been long gone! Otogi straightened himself. Stop whining. Without Kaiba, you wouldn’t have even gotten close to the Items, and Yuugi needs them. How these tacky golden Items could help establish world peace, he didn’t know - but it was the hope he had latched himself on to, like many others, like the Resistance, and hope was all worth it.

Relief washed over him when he reached the right floor. Otogi silently opened the door and made sure that nobody was in the hallway. Pushing the door further open, he slipped through it, clutching the bag to his chest, wincing from the noise. With just a few footsteps, he was at his room and quickly entered, releasing the breath he was holding.

“There you are,” Mokuba hissed. He looked anxious, afraid, and that had everything to do with his brother, who was keeled over on the bed, the laptop on the floor. Otogi put the bag down and closed the distance between them. He immediately put his fingers on Kaiba’s neck. There was a pulse, albeit weakly. It was a miracle Kaiba had managed to hold on for as long as he did, but now his body was giving out on him, fast.

“Kaiba,” he said, urgently. “Kaiba!”

He made a noncommittal sound, and his hand twitched weakly.

“Get up, Kaiba. I have the Items. We have to get out of here.”

“I... can’t… move,” Kaiba muttered, his eyes closed, face buried into the pillow.

“Nii-sama,” Mokuba shook his shoulder again. “Nii-sama..?”

“Your brother needs medical attention, kid,” Otogi said and he frowned. Anzu was the only one he knew with sufficient medical knowledge, but he didn’t need a doctor to see that Kaiba was severely dehydrated and malnourished. His body simply couldn’t go on. “We have to get him to the Resistance, I know someone who is a nurse. If only we can reach them in time…”

“My brother will not die!” Mokuba yelled out loud and he resumed shaking his shoulder again.

“Stop that,” Otogi batted his hand away, “He has suffered enough, and the only thing that kept him going was to rescue you from Noa’s clutches. His body is weakened, but his mind is stronger than anyone’s I have ever met.”

Mokuba started to smile at Otogi, proud of hearing those words about his brother. Otogi returned the smile; none of this wasn’t the kid’s fault. “He needs medical attention,” he repeated, “and we’re going to get him out of here.”

“I know how,” Mokuba piped up. He slid from the bed and grabbed at his brother’s laptop, pulling it into his own lap. “Gozaburo has a car.”

Otogi scratched the back of his head. “Even if we managed to reach the garage on the lower levels, I don’t know how to drive.”

“Nii-sama does,” Mokuba beamed at him, conveniently ignoring the fact that his brother was in no condition to drive. His fingers worked just as rapidly over the keyboard, tapping away at the keys before he exclaimed a loud “A-ha!”

“What is it?”

“Due to the faulty electricity, the garage doors are open. If we manage to get downstairs, we can take the car and drive off!”

“Exactly what you said: if we manage to get downstairs.”

Mokuba bit on his lower lip. “Nii-sama,” he said softly. “What are we going to do?”

Otogi raked a hand through his hair. How difficult could driving a car be? No one in his circle of friends had possessed a car; in this society driving was the summit of decadence, and low on the priority list - survival came first. First things first, Otogi thought and started wrapping the Items in articles of clothing, so they wouldn’t make any noise or get damaged. He put them in his backpack, adding some more clothes to cover them and topped it off with some of their provisions; some food and drink and a warm blanket. He hoisted it on his back - still pretty heavy - and secured the straps around his shoulders and waist. This was one precious backpack, and he couldn’t afford to lose it.

“You know the way downstairs?” He asked Mokuba. He had never been lower than the 20th floor. Gozaburo had never send him to the car or the garage. The man had never taken a drive as far as Otogi could recall, and he hoped that the car was still in good condition, or they were screwed… Mokuba nodded. He closed the laptop and shoved it into another bag with shoulder straps, the look on his face nothing but determined. Otogi kept a moment to himself before leaning into Kaiba and helped him up on his feet. It all depended on him now; if he couldn’t get the three of them downstairs, they were done for.

Sooner or later someone would notice the vault door being open, and every second lingering here meant a second closer to being discovered. The shock of the summon of the God had to wear off by now; if Gozaburo or Noa returned to their quarters…

Otogi ignored his body demanding for a rest. It was all up to him. He could do this. He had volunteered for this job in the first place, he had willingly taken the risk to work for their enemy and spy from the inside. It had taken him days, if not weeks, to convince Yuugi to give him permission. He was going to finish this, and bring the Kaiba brothers to safety, along with the Items.

“Otogi,” Mokuba said, voice shaky, his eyes filled with worry. He knew the concern was destined for his brother, not for himself or any of the Items.

“We’re going to make it,” Otogi answered. He slipped an arm under Kaiba’s, hoisting him up from the bed. They both groaned - how could Kaiba still weigh as heavy as this while being so emaciated? Otogi motioned for Mokuba to take the lead, and the kid hopped over to the door, opening it. He pulled his head back after checking the hallway for activity.

“No one in sight,” he said. “I’ll call the elevator!”

Otogi nodded and started to move. Kaiba tried to walk with him, but he was merely frustrating Otogi as he moved his feet. “Let it go,” he hissed. “Just lean on me.”

He received a grumble for an answer, but Kaiba lifted up his own hand to push the door open. It was a weird and awkward way to coordinate, but at least he was willing to cooperate. Dragging him went faster than allowing him to walk on his own, and so Otogi stepped forward, down the hallway, toward the elevator where Mokuba was pushing the buttons. We’re going to make it. Hold on, everyone!

----------------------

Yuugi was still alive, even if he didn’t know why and how exactly. The last thing he remembered, the last thing he saw was a giant… ball of fire, raw, hot energy coming straight at him, and it would have killed him if it hadn’t been for…

“Jounouchi-kun,” he said and immediately coughed. His lungs were filled with dust and smoke, and he coughed a few times more, dry heaving, almost choking on the cramped reaction of his body. His eyes started to tear up, and if he had been standing upright he would have fallen to the ground. He let it wash over him, he didn’t have much of a choice; his body cramped up a few more times before the coughing subsided. Taking in big gulps of breath, setting off another coughing fit, Yuugi forced himself to calm down. Slowly but surely he regained control of his breathing. His eyes stung, and his hands searched for his handkerchief in the pockets of his pants.

His eyesight was a little blurred and troubled, probably from looking directly into that… energy thing that had been released by the red dragon. Osiris, Mahaado had called him, and it was a genuine God… possessing enough power to destroy everything and everyone in its path. Blinking, Yuugi waited another minute for his eyesight to improve. He decided to accept the spots swimming in his vision, as he didn’t think it was going to get better anytime soon. He was wasting his time here, he needed to help his friends…if they hadn’t died in the attack.

That thought made him shiver and he got up, groaning as pain flared through him. The blast had flung him away, and he assumed the same happened to the others. He didn’t see anyone of his friends around here, but he didn’t trust his bad eyesight. Yuugi didn’t dare to call out their names - the God might still be nearby, it wasn’t exactly safe around here. He recognized his surroundings, to his surprise he wasn’t that far from the intersection.

Strange, he had expected to be miles away… it felt like an eternity as he had been thrown through the air, with the screams of his friends still ringing in his ears. Jounouchi-kun. Honda-kun. Anzu-chan… Shizuka-chan… Malik and Bakura, Mahaado, what had happened to them?

Suddenly, he picked up noises. Yuugi quickly hid behind the remains of a wall, his heart beating. Someone was approaching, and he didn’t know who it was. Friend or foe?

“Onii-chan… onii-chan, where are you?”

A soft, pleading girl’s voice, and a voice he recognized all too well. Relieved, Yuugi jumped up from behind the wall and waved at the girl, only to realize the next second how stupid he was behaving.

“Shizuka-chan, over here!” He whispered. The girl turned immediately to his direction, her feet shuffling, cradling her arms to her chest.

“Yuugi-kun,” she said with overwhelming relief. “Have you seen onii-chan?”

“No, not yet,” he answered honestly. He closed the distance between them and took her by the wrist to guide her across the street, avoiding the rubble and potholes.

“What happened? Everyone started to scream and I held onto onii-chan, but there was so much wind and it felt so hot, like an oven…”

“It was an explosion,” Yuugi said. It wasn’t the complete truth, but he wasn’t going to scare the girl by describing the God and its attack to her. She was upset enough as it was. “Oh, your arm..!”

“It’s nothing,” she said. The skin was clearly burned, and her pinky finger was bending in an unnatural angle. She had probably flailed around wildly to find some kind of support; Yuugi would know, as he had done the same. His own fingers and hands bore the same scratches and cuts as hers. Her hair was tangled and matted, and hung in wild, unkempt strands before her face.
Yuugi tore fabric from his shirt to bandage her bleeding hand. There was nothing he could do about her broken finger. She smiled half-heartedly, aching to resume looking for her brother. Everything else was just a hold-up to her, and she hopped from one foot to another.

“Stand still, Shizuka-chan,” he chided her gently, and used the last piece of fabric to tie her hair back, so it fell in a simple ponytail over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Yuugi-kun,” she said. “We must find onii-chan and the others!”

“You’re right,” he answered. “We’re not far from the intersection. What do you say - shall we go back to our original location and search from there?”

“Sounds good to me,” Shizuka showed a tentative smile, “I don’t know where we are anyway.” She was disorientated from the impact of the God’s attack; the streets had changed, literally turned upside down. Speaking of the God.. where was the dragon anyway? Yuugi took Shizuka’s good hand and guided her back to the intersection… or what was left of it. He stared into a gaping crater, bottomless at first sight, and he shivered.

“Yuugi-kun, what’s the matter?”

Cold fear clutched at his heart. It was a miracle that he and Shizuka had survived, and he hoped that none of his friends had been caught by the blast, disappearing into the still smoldering crater. The force of the destruction made him shiver; it was the middle of the day, and the sun was mild…but the crater was surrounded by an unnatural heat and danger, and he wasn’t shivering from the cold.

“We better go somewhere else, Shizuka-chan,” he said and managed to keep his voice sounding quite normal, “there’s far too much rubble here to get us through.”

“All right,” she answered, almost bubbly, excited now that she had found one of her friends and resumed searching for her brother again. Yuugi directed her into the opposite street, recalling from his grandfather’s stories that this used to be a street with lots of boutiques and vintage clothing stores. Shopping for clothes seemed something from another world to him; he was always so busy with the Resistance that he wore what people gave to him, or what he managed to find himself, even though it was never fitting.

“Yuugi-kun,” Shizuka halted after a while. “I hear something.”

“What, really?” He lowered his voice, and mentally berated himself for zoning out on the girl. He had to be focused! His eyes were still a little teary, and once in a while spots drifted in his line of sight.

“I hear someone mumbling, it’s not that far away,” she said and pointed into another direction. Yuugi swallowed.

“All right, let’s go… maybe it’s someone calling for help.”

“It doesn’t sound like onii-chan, too low,” she muttered. Her hearing was phenomenal, as was her stubborn streak.

“Where exactly is it coming from?”

“Over there.”

Zigzagging across the street, avoiding the large cracks in the pavement, Yuugi guided Shizuka to the other side, into the direction she was pinpointing the origin of the noises. Once they had arrived safely, he planted Shizuka next to a sturdy wall and told her to stay there so he could check it out. He expected her to protest, but apparently since she had figured out it wasn’t her brother, she wasn’t interested in investigating and promised to stay right where she was.

The closer he got, the better Yuugi could hear the mumbling as well. It was rhythmic, repetitive, as if someone was chanting instead of talking. His heart sprung up in the hope that he had found Mahaado, but his instincts told him to be careful. Sneaking alongside the wall, Yuugi was glad he had listened to his instincts as soon as he took a peek around the corner.

In the center of a small town square, no one else but the Pharaoh himself was standing, easily recognizable because of his armor, his back turned to him. From this distance, Yuugi could see the striking similarities of their hair, and oddly enough he tugged at one of his own golden bangs, as if to convince himself his hair was still there. Isis had told him about how much he resembled the Pharaoh, but to see it with his own eyes, from this close… this was his chance to speak to the man himself, and to bring this all to an end!
Yuugi wanted to reveal himself, mustering up all his courage to start speaking. If only he could get his attention…surely enough, they could talk to each other without being provoked to fight? The dragon-God was nowhere in sight, those two bodyguard were nowhere to be seen…this was his ultimate chance! He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and - he was too late. A blinding light swept across the sky. In a reflex, Yuugi closed his eyes, using both his hands to cover his face. Such intensity, such brightness! Had the dragon-God returned? Was this another one of his attacks? The light disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared, and he found himself blinking soon after, staring at a huge, golden…

….orb floating in the sky. He had no other words for it; it was a huge, golden orb, floating. Was that another God? What was going on? Yuugi was still holding his breath. The Pharaoh hadn’t noticed him. The orb… moved. It made a strange, metallic sound as it moved and shifted, changing drastically. Once again there was light, but this time he could easily look right into it. Yuugi wished he hadn’t, after all. Before him, something unfolded, something large, massive..! That orb, it was no longer an orb, morphed into something that he couldn’t comprehend, it was far above anyone’s imagination. His first thought was that it resembled a bird. It spread its gigantic wings, and its huge beak opened to release a loud cry, rupturing the sky. Yuugi’s second thought was that they were all going to die, and he wanted to fall upon his knees and pray for mercy.

--------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 7

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 18:27:22 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, major character death!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

---------------------------

The elevator went up far too slow to his taste, and Kaiba Gozaburo had to violently suppress his urge to hit the button over and over again. Calm, he had to stay calm. There was probably a very reasonable and logical explanation for the… earthquake, or whatever it was, that had shaken the building. At least the tower was still standing, and the energy was rerouted according to the emergency plans he installed himself years ago; he’d never expected to need back-up generators, but now he was grateful that he had agreed to install them. This ‘earthquake’ was bothering him; why had Karim looked up, immediately after it happened? Why had the General looked up at the ceiling, at the top floor, where the Pharaoh had his quarters?

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. Had it been an attack of the Resistance? Had it been Noa, making another move in the game, robbing him of his trump card? Gozaburo’s mind was trying to find more explanations, sorting and rearranging the options and possibilities, crossing them off or discarding them one by one. The Resistance had never used violence, they had always kept themselves hidden somewhere around town, in Domino City. Gozaburo had always favored the search for the Items over the search for and apprehension of members of this so-called Resistance - if they somehow isposed over explosive powers and attacked the KaibaCorp. building, he had severely underestimated them.

However, it was more plausible that the ‘earthquake’ was either Noa’s, or the Pharaoh’s, doing. Noa’s less-than-favorable attitude towards the Generals was widely known, and he would do anything to get rid of him. Gozaburo frowned. He was catching on to his son’s plan; Noa wanted to cripple him by removing his Generals one by one. Mahaado had been captured, and the Pharaoh wouldn’t stand for his friend to remain in the hands of the enemy, the Resistance. His reaction was predictable, and all that Noa had to do, was to anticipate it. Gozaburo tapped with his cane on the floor of the elevator. The energy provided by the back-up generator didn’t make this thing any faster.
KaibaCorp. had always disposed over the best of the best technology. It couldn’t be that the building was operating on half its usual power. There should be more than enough back-up energy!

Gozaburo made a mental note to look into it later, refusing to acknowledge the possibility that even the generators could’ve been damaged by the ‘earthquake’. He released the breath he had been holding when the doors finally gave their familiar ‘ding’-sound and opened. If Noa prove to be difficult, he could always deal with him… in a more accidental matter. No one survived a fall from this building, not even a Kaiba, and Noa certainly didn’t need to think he was invincible or untouchable.

His thoughts died away when he saw the floor… or rather, what was left of the floor and the Pharaoh’s quarters. Gozaburo’s eyes widened drastically when seeing the ravage. More than half of the floor, the Pharaoh’s quarters, was just… missing. Intense heat had scorched the concrete walls into a grey, melted mass, dripping all over the remains of the supporting beams of the ceiling, bend and crooked due to intense pressure. The furniture was gone, burnt beyond recognition except for the frame of the bed and the foot of the small fountain Gozaburo had custom ordered for the Pharaoh. The elder man walked through the rubble, swiping his cane at everything that was in his path. A golden bowl, melted into a formless lump, a vase, reduced to splinters and shards. Nothing was intact anymore, and if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought a bomb had detonated.

He grimaced. He stood in front of where a pristine, beautifully made bed was supposed to be, but there was only the iron frame left, about to collapse. The large window panes were all broken; the glass splinters had melted into the floor. Goddamnit. He wasn’t quick to curse - Gozaburo regarded the use of foul language as a sign of weakness, and he took his entire life great pride into being able to maintain his composure in any situation. Always. Calm.

There were no bodies, and the Pharaoh’s armor was gone. If the General had destroyed his own quarters out of rage, there would’ve been the bodies of the other two… Marik and Bakura. He rejected the thought that the Pharaoh might’ve spared them; in his rage, not even Mahaado was safe. It was strange that he had donned his armor, but then again, Gozaburo had all but drilled him into it - it was a little ray of hope, ironically, that the Pharaoh had survived this by putting on the armor he loathed himself. Gozaburo was prepared to latch onto the small bit of hope. He couldn’t afford to lose the Pharaoh. Marik and Bakura were expendable, but if these two were gone, he was going to need his other Generals and his Elite Troops to get a hold of the Pharaoh’s sanity again. He had to get everyone together and…

“Father?”

Gozaburo turned around, quickly schooling his face into a neutral expression. Noa had followed him to the top floor and walked, dressed in his pristine white suit, through the rubble - carefully, and avoiding the huge, scorched remains - towards him. His face was too shocked and surprised to be untrue; Noa had always been a bad actor.

“What happened here?”

“My guess is as good as yours, son,” Gozaburo said, voice surprisingly soothing. Noa looked around like a kid in a candystore; with his eyes wide and in awe, taking everything in. But this wasn’t candy, this was pure destruction. Gozaburo doubted that Noa had anything to do with it. The other even went as far as to touch the blackened bedframe, hissing as he withdrew his finger. It was still hot.

“An explosion,” Noa said. “It had to be an explosion. The whole building was shaking.”

He refrained from sucking on his burned finger, even though it really hurt. He wasn’t faking his shock, just as Gozaburo assumed. Just five minutes ago, Noa had been in his own quarters with Mokuba playing video games, meanwhile trying to persuade the younger boy into telling him the access codes of Seto’s laptop. Any information Mokuba could provide about the work of his brother was welcome, and Noa was eager to learn; too bad Mokuba talked about Seto personally, not about his work - he needed more time to win the kid’s trust, time he wasn’t sure he had. Noa had hoped that the Pharaoh would leave, but apparently he felt the need to take out his own quarters with a bang. Failing to refrain from smirking, his plan to cripple his father by removing his two most powerful Generals had worked so far. Everything was going perfect! Now he only had to crack Seto’s codes and continue his plans to build the virtual world, making him the undisputable lord and leader - everyone would bow at his feet!

“I do not know exactly what you are doing, son,” Gozaburo said and the soothing tone disappeared from his voice, “but keep in mind that you are far, very far from achieving any of your goals. You will need a whole lot of work before you can even start to approach what I have build with my own hands.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, father.” Noa’s answer was almost light-hearted, but he took a step to the side, out of Gozaburo’s reach with his cane. He knew he lacked Seto’s extremely high intelligence and his father’s strategic abilities, but he wasn’t stupid, no matter how many people thought he was. One day, sooner or later, people would bow for him and acknowledge his power! His fingers clenched into fists, and he forced himself to relax again.

“Whatever you think, this wasn’t my work.”

“No, I do not think this was your work, indeed,” Gozaburo sneered and turned away from him. He came to stand face to face with his two Generals, Karim and Shaadah. He hadn’t even heard them stepping into the room.

“Osiris,” was all that Karim said, and the usual stern face of the General expressed both fear and displeasure. His dark brown eyes narrowed as he took in the devastation, the wind caressing his face; there was no more ceiling. Shaadah looked as neutral as ever, but the man’s fingers were visible, and they clenched at his robes, all but equaling panic.

“Osiris? You mean he summoned a God in his quarters?”

“These are the signs of the God,” Karim said but he didn’t elaborate. “Our Pharaoh must have felt a great need to summon him and leave here. I wonder what that need could be.”

Mahaado. Gozaburo straightened himself, but his grip on his cane was so tight that it all but hurt his hand. He didn’t need to justify or to explain himself, and he wasn’t going to be the subject of any of the Generals’ interrogations. The sheer audacity!

“You will wait in your quarters until I have investigated the matter,” he snapped. “As soon as I have more information, I will let you know. I will send out my Elite Troops to find-”

“We will accompany these Elite Troops,” Karim cut him off. Gozaburo’s face was turning red from anger. The General had even dared to interrupt him! “We will find our Pharaoh and you will let us know what has happened.”

Both Generals turned around and stalked out of the demolished room, avoiding to step on the rubble and debris, robbing Gozaburo of any opportunity to answer them. He was seething. Out of line, the both of them! He had to correct this and find out exactly what happened…and punish the ones responsible for this mess. The Pharaoh had summoned a God in his own quarters, and it had destroyed the entire upper floor. Even if he was a Pharaoh, he was going to pay for this mess - but Gozaburo’s only hope at the moment was, that if the Pharaoh had left with his God to find Mahaado and the Resistance, he would flatten every single person of the Resistance with every ounce of power he had. That would be his only advantage at this moment. His only one.

--------------------------------------

The KaibaCorp. tower had been built by megalomaniac nutjobs, or so Otogi thought. He had wondered about it since the first day of his arrival, after he had managed to land a job in the kitchen. Gozaburo always seemed to be in need of new servants and kitchen personnel, and Otogi had used it to his advantage, working himself all the way up to become the man’s assistant.

Every Kaiba generation had added new floors to the building so it literally towered into the sky, and they had also made each floor more luxurious and decadent than the previous one. Except for the lower floors, who had been redesigned as cells for prisoners. There were no plush carpets here, no fancy decorated walls, no chandeliers or brass lamps… but whatever generation, they all seemed to be fond of elevators. Eight elevators were neatly aligned in front of Otogi, and he knew that the two utmost right ones were personnel only elevators. Gozaburo wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole, and if they stumbled upon a servant… we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Otogi thought as he pushed the button.

His body hurt all over, and he couldn’t imagine what Kaiba was feeling. He hung over him like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He had tried to walk on his own, but he simply lacked strength. His ribs were visible, and his eyes were dark pools in his hollow face. He wore a grim, determined expression, and struggled to find strength, but he was running on his last reserves. Otogi waited for the doors to open and dragged Kaiba inside, relieved to find the elevator empty.

“Mokuba first,” Kaiba said. “Noa is on the 75th floor…”

“We go to my room first,” Otogi said and pressed the button for his floor. “We can change there, get something to eat…”

“This isn’t a date,” Kaiba snarled. “I need to see my brother right now, and I need my laptop!”

Otogi pulled his arm away, depriving Kaiba of his support, and he fell into a heap on the elevator floor.

“Look, friend,” Otogi snarled in return, mimicking Kaiba’s tone, “I can always leave you here to rot, just like your father and brother had in mind. But I’ve been very nice and kind, and I decided to take you with me, so can you at least show me some gratitude? You can ride this elevator up to whatever floor you like, but without me, you aren’t even able to get through the door, let alone help your brother. We’re going to my room first, and then we get your brother!”

Kaiba looked at him with murderous hate. For some reason, with him lying on the floor, it didn’t impress Otogi as much. He had his hand on the control panel, and his fingers were nowhere near the button for Noa’s floor.

“All right,” the man caved in. “All right. But if something happens to Mokuba in the meantime, I’ll kill you personally!”

“Yes master,” Otogi said and stared at the blinking lights of the control panel. He shivered. He felt cold and tired. Hunger pains were trying to munch their way through his ribs, and his mouth felt like someone had force-fed him nothing but sawdust for three weeks. He wasn’t sure how much strength he had left - but compared to Kaiba, he had it easy. The taller man was emaciated, but his eyes shone with strength and willpower.

Both held in their breath when the elevator announced their arrival with a loud ‘ding’. Fortunately, the hallway was empty and Otogi quickly helped Kaiba out of the elevator. His room was just down the hall, and was one of the few to have its own bathroom. Servants were notorious for swapping rooms all around, and he hoped that no one had claimed his in his absence. How long had he been away, anyway? He had lost all notion of time. After opening the door, Otogi heaved a sigh of relief as he noticed that nothing had changed.
Someone had gone through his belongings; his room was a mess, but it were his clothes in on the bed, his books on the table, nothing seemed to be missing. Dragging Kaiba over the floor, he stumbled and fell on the carpet, panting from the exertion.

“I’ll get us something to eat and to drink,” Otogi said. “The kitchen is just around the corner, okay? You pick out some new clothes.”

“You’re not my size,” Kaiba muttered but started digging through the pile anyway, pulling the clothes from the bed. Otogi slipped into the bathroom and opened the faucet. He stuck his hands into the cold water, shivered again and splashed it all over his face. There was no time for a shower, and he doubted Kaiba could muster up the strength to stand upright and take one. Otogi wanted nothing but to leave and inform the Resistance, and he was dying to see Shizuka again - hell, he would even be glad to see Jounouchi, of all people. He grabbed a towel from the rack and held it into the lukewarm water.

He brought the wet towel to Kaiba, and handed it to him. The other already had selected a pair of pants and a shirt from the pile, as well as a large, warm vest. Despite their considerable height differences, Otogi didn’t think Kaiba would have any trouble wearing his clothes - anything was better than what he was wearing now.

“I’ll help you in a moment,” he offered. “Here’s something to freshen you up.”

Kaiba muttered something that looked suspiciously like a ‘thank you’, and Otogi showed him a weak grin. He left Kaiba alone and went quickly to the kitchen, checking the hall for unwanted visitors. As he raided the fridge, he wondered where the rest of the personnel was - had everyone left the building after the earthquake, or whatever it was? Usually the building was crowded by servants. Otogi decided not to spend too much thoughts on it, and grabbed a bag. He filled it with bread, cheese, sausage, and plastic containers with leftover pasta, salad and chicken. He put everything edible he could find into the bag and took out two large bottles of soda, adding them to the bag as well. Otogi also grabbed a bottle of water as he thought that carbonated liquids wouldn’t be the best for their sensitive stomachs right now. Adding some plain bread and a roll of biscuits at the last moment, he hoisted the bag - pretty heavy - over his shoulder and made his way back to the room.
Upon entering, he noticed the dirty towel on the floor. Kaiba stood upright and held onto the bed frame for support. He had managed to dress himself, wearing two shirts over one another, and the garments reached just a little past his navel. The pants were too short as well and in any other situation it would’ve been funny. Kaiba finished the buttons on the large vest and wiggled his toes a little.

“Did you find something to eat?”

“Yes,” Otogi answered and put the bag down. “Don’t eat too much, though - your stomach is extremely sensitive.”

“I know,” Kaiba said but he didn’t sound too grumpy. His hair was still matted and tangled, but he looked and smelled a lot better with the clean clothes on. Otogi decided to be not too hard on him. After all, he wasn’t very clean and smelling nicely either, and he had spend less time in the cells than Kaiba. He withdrew into the bathroom to get himself clean, changing into new clothes and combing his hair.
When he returned, he brought a comb with him for Kaiba and handed it to him.

The other had a dirty face from eating with his fingers, like a small kid that didn’t know how to use his utensils. Some of the plastic containers were empty, strewn all over the floor. Otogi decided not to mention again that Kaiba had to be careful with the state his body was in, but as Kaiba all but ignored him, he simply left it at that. He grabbed a container for himself and started eating, also with his fingers; he had forgotten to bring knives or forks with him.

“Where’s your laptop?”

“I don’t have one. Gozaburo wanted me to write his orders down with pen and paper.” Otogi answered.

Kaiba snorted. “The man wants to create a virtual world to gain immortality and he doesn’t use a computer!”

Otogi almost choked on the sandwich he was now holding and he stared at Kaiba in disbelief, hearing Gozaburo’s ultimate goal.

“He wants what?”

“You didn’t think I was thrown in those dungeons of his just because we disagreed on something small, did you?” Kaiba snorted again and opened the water bottle, be it with a little difficulty. His bony fingers finally managed to unscrew the cap and he took a few sips.

Otogi shook his head, sending raven black strands of hair flying. “I don’t want to know. I worked my way up to be his assistant so I could tell the Resistance about every move he made, but I never gained full insight on what he ultimately wanted. He was busy gaining power over the United States…”

“Let me guess, he send Set to do the work there.”

“Well…yeah. How do you know?”

“You would have to know Gozaburo’s… unique sense of humor for that,” Kaiba said disdainfully, but didn’t elaborate. “My brother,” was all that he said.

“Let me get you some shoes.”

“No, yours would never fit. I’ll put on an extra pair of socks. We can’t waste time looking for the right size of shoes.”

“If you say so,” Otogi nodded and tied his hair back with a simple scrunchie. Not his usual hairstyle, but he had no time to putter around and spend precious minutes on getting his hair right. Taking up the bag with provisions, he was amazed to see Kaiba walking on his own strength towards the door - if he wasn’t mistaken, it almost looked like he was marching. Incredible. His desire to see and rescue his brother is all that keeps him going.

After checking the hallway again and making sure that no one was around, Kaiba and Otogi made their way back to the elevators, albeit slow. Kaiba couldn’t run and used the walls for support, forcing himself to walk no matter how much effort it took. Otogi’s clothes should have been too tight considering his physique, but instead they hung like burlap sacks around his hollow ribcage. He paused often to wrap his hand in front of his mouth and gag from the amount of food he had consumed while his stomach was still too sensitive from the deprivation. With the same impressive determination, Kaiba forced the food to stay down and continued his way, his eyes focused and his mind sharp. Mokuba was all that mattered, and he wanted to get him out of Noa’s quarters.

“What if Noa is there?” Otogi whispered when he called for the elevator. The answer wasn’t surprising.

“I’ll kill him.”

“We don’t have any guns.” He shook his head. “I don’t have to tell you that you can barely stand upright, let alone kill someone.”

Noa didn’t like to work out and would hardly put up a fight; still, with the state Kaiba was in, he would be overpowered easily. It didn’t take much for Kaiba to keel over; his ‘family’ had left him to rot and die, for God only knows how long. Kaiba pursed his lips in a stubborn grimace, and Otogi didn’t pursue the topic. Out of the two of them, he was in the best shape, but he knew very well that with one scream of Noa’s, a myriad of guards would show up and drag them back to their cells faster than he could say his own name. Then what? Kaiba however, seemed to be convinced that he could kill Noa, and the obsessive way he was looking at the control panel of the elevator, as if he could glare the thing into going faster, was just… eerie.

“We’re there,” Otogi announced superfluously when the elevator halted. The doors opened to the familiar plush carpet and the oceanic colors on the walls. The closer they came to the doors, the darker the colors, as if they were descending into an abyss. Kaiba used the wall for support again, his breathing erratic as if he ran a marathon. Otogi hoped he didn’t collapse; they needed each other too much to fail now. He used all his strength to open the door, and hesitated in the small antechamber. How long… no, how little time had it been since he stood here, meeting Kaiba Mokuba for the first time?

“Open the second door,” Kaiba hissed.

“What if.. Noa..” Otogi protested.

“Open the goddamn door!”

“It’s your funeral,” Otogi muttered under his breath, not realizing how
absurd his comment was. He opened the second door. Kaiba wanted to stride past him, but he needed the support from the wall too much. He almost threw himself upon the first chair in sight; a monstrous leather seat with huge wooden armrests, and Otogi thought for a moment that he was going to pass out from the exertion.

The room was empty. It was spacious and luxuruous - Noa favored an aquatic theme, and it showed in the colors and the details. The carpets were sandy brown, and with the exception of the black leather chair Kaiba was sitting in, the furniture was light oak wood, the couches sporting a soft orange color like starfish. Dark-blue and black colors were featured in the accessories: cushions, the lamps, a few poster frames on the wall.
Where was the kid? Kaiba’s eyes darted through the room, searching for his brother, but there was nobody here. Otogi was nothing but grateful that Noa wasn’t present.

“Mokuba…”

Now that he couldn’t find his brother, all of his strength seemed to leave Kaiba. He looked exactly how his body was feeling: sickly, tired, exhausted. If they didn’t find Mokuba fast, he was about to give up and die, Otogi feared.

“Wait a minute… what would you if you were a young kid and afraid?”

“Face my fears, of course,” Kaiba answered.

“A kid not as badass as you.”

“I don’t know… hide under the bed?”

“I guess so.” Otogi nodded, and looked around. He wasn’t familiar with Noa’s quarters, and didn’t know the layout. Where was the bedroom? He noticed a door in the northwest corner; he walkted towards it and grabbed the handle. Pushing the door open, he was met by darkness; he searched for the switch, and flipped the lights on. Otogi was rather taken aback by Noa’s modest bedroom - modest in comparison to the luscious living room. The king size bed was covered with colorful striped cushions, the bedspread displaying an oceanic motif. It made Otogi wonder where Noa ever had gotten his obsession with the sea from. Maybe he was just as nuts as the Pharaoh.

“Mokuba?” His voice was low, and he tried to sound as friendly and calm as possible. “It’s me, Otogi - do you remember me? Your brother is here with me…”
Where could the kid be? Under the bed, like Kaiba had suggested? Otogi moved towards it, the silence unnerving him. He really didn’t want to scare the kid.

“We met before, remember?” he continued. “Everything’s okay. Your brother is here with me.”

“Y-you lie,” a weak voice answered. Otogi couldn’t help but smile, relieved that Mokuba was around. He had to be under the bed, as that was the most obvious place.

“Mokuba,” he tried again, “I wouldn’t lie about something important like that. You can come out now, please. Your brother is in the living room. He’s there, trust me.”

“You work for Noa,” the shaky voice accused him, “why should I trust you?”

“I don’t work for him, not any more,” Otogi said. “Listen, it’s too complicated to explain right now, and we have to hurry before Noa gets back, all right? I’m going to stand in the corner, just like that, all the way over here-” he went into the farthest corner of the room as he spoke, “and you can come out from under the bed and run into the living room, all right?”

No answer. Otogi was just debating whether to drag Kaiba over here or pull the young boy from under the bed, when he heard some rustling noises and the bedcover shifted. He saw nothing but wild strands of black hair, and a glimpse of the kid’s face before he hurried to the door. Mokuba stood still for a second, looking in fear at him - what had Noa done to the kid? - and then slipped through the door opening, into the living room. Not a second later, a loud, enthusiastic screech followed.

“Nii-sama!”

“Mokuba!”

Otogi was surprised that Mokuba used a honorific in respect to his brother. It was an old tradition, in the same vein as Yuugi and Shizuka spoke. He quickly left Noa’s bedroom, feeling a bit of nausea coming up. His body was on the verge of exhaustion, and his stomach was giving off some weird cramps.

He wished he had Kaiba’s determination to keep himself going; Otogi felt like going to bed and sleep for a week. He found Mokuba sitting in Kaiba’s lap, his arms firmly wrapped around his brother’s waist, talking at a hundred miles an hour. Kaiba raked his hand through Mokuba’s untamed hair, and he looked years younger than Otogi had ever seen him before. It was a touching scene, really - these two had suffered tremendously from being separated.

“I haven’t told them anything, nii-sama,” Mokuba kept repeating, ignoring Kaiba’s bad health and protruding ribcage. “Anything at all!”

“I know, Mokuba.” His voice was soft even, soft and with undeniable affection. It was such a change, and Otogi wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t witnessed it himself. It wasn’t wise however, to hang around in Noa’s quarters and he urged them to leave.

“My laptop,” Kaiba said to Mokuba. “Have you seen it?”

“Noa has it,” the young kid scrunched up his face in disgust, “and he was pretty mad he couldn’t crack the codes. I didn’t tell him anything!”

“Where is it, Mokuba?” Otogi asked. Mokuba pointed to the large desk in the other corner, littered with computer equipment; he recognized two server stations, another desktop model and three laptops. He couldn’t help but growl in frustration; all this electricity wasted while whole parts of town had to do without!

“Get my laptop,” Kaiba said, nodding with his head towards the desk.

“Yes lord and master,” Otogi replied and had the satisfaction to see Kaiba slightly scowl and lower his eyes. He went to the large desk, picking out the most expensive and fancy looking laptop before holding it up. Kaiba nodded again and Otogi brought it over to him.

“We really have to go.”

“Nii-sama,” Mokuba looked up, “I never told anyone, and Noa didn’t care for it…” He stuck his hand under his own shirt and shifted around, until he withdrew his hand and showed something to Kaiba. It looked like a necklace, with something the size of a playing card dangling from it. Kaiba’s expression turned serious, and… grateful.

“You did a good job protecting it,” he said with that same affection and ruffled Mokuba’s hair. He took the necklace from him and put it on, his fingers caressing the fine chain.

“We really, really have to go,” Otogi urged them. He held the laptop, its weight was extremely light. “Every second we linger here, we bring ourselves into more danger.”

“You’re right.” Kaiba pushed lightly at Mokuba to get him off of his lap. The boy jumped off of him, quickly grabbing his brother at the leg.

“Noa went to the upper floor to see what all the ruckus was about,” he said. “He told me to hide in the bedroom. He didn’t know what was going on.”

“Neither did we,” Kaiba said and tried to get up. Otogi didn’t hesitate to reach him a hand, and he took it, his face frowned in annoyance. He didn’t like to be this dependant, but he had no choice. “Whatever it was, we should be thankful - it helped us to get out of our cells.”

He was standing upright and looked irritable. “We better…” Something caught his attention, and his expression changed. “We better find a place where we can’t get caught. I need to use my laptop in this building.”

“Forget about the stupid laptop,” Otogi interrupted him. “I’ve got it here with me, and you can use it all you want when we get outside, away from here.”

“If nii-sama wants to use the laptop inside the building, he gets to use the laptop inside the building,” Mokuba was quick to add.

Otogi rolled his eyes. Every Kaiba is a carbon copy. I should have known. “Listen, it’s too dangerous…”

“We get back to your room, no one will look there,” Kaiba cut him off. “We can bring your precious Resistance some gifts when we meet up with them.”

“G-gifts?”

Kaiba suddenly started to grin. It wasn’t a very pleasant sight. “I know of the Items. Gozaburo has stored some of them here, and I can locate them with my laptop. We can swipe the Items and take them with us.”

“Nii-sama..?”

“Hush, Mokuba. I don’t give jack shit about the Items, but I know the old man would die from a heart attack to find them gone. Anything that is precious to him, I will take from him, and I start with those stupid Items! All I know is that they’re in some kind of vault, and I can find them within a snap - but to do that, I need to be inside the building, with my laptop.”

“Fine, we’ll go back to my room again,” Otogi snapped. “It’s a miracle that no one has busted us yet, so we’ll defy Fate some more, and hope and pray we can make it. Let’s get the hell out of here..!”

It took them some time to arrive back at Otogi’s room again, while Mokuba clung to his brother like a last lifeline, and Kaiba with his hand in Mokuba’s hair to console him, all the time his eyes glaring at the laptop Otogi was carrying. He didn’t waste any second when they were in the room, flopping down on the bed after shoving some of the clothes off, and holding out his hands. Mokuba crawled up on the bed with him, propping himself up under his arm.

Otogi handed him the laptop and Kaiba booted it up, mumbling something incoherently.

“The battery is still working… operation system loading correctly… programs also loading…”

He suddenly barked a short laugh, taking Otogi by surprise. “Ha! He couldn’t even get past the introduction screen, the moron.”

“See? I didn’t tell them,” Mokuba repeated, very pleased with himself. Otogi guessed that the younger Kaiba brother knew the very coveted passwords, but had been able to withstand all the methods used to get this information out of him. Remarkable. Kaiba snorted, a disdainful scowl on his face. His fingers clicked at the keys faster than Otogi could follow with his eyes, fascinated.

“It seems that the upper floor is… missing,” he said. “The security cameras don’t go any further than 123, and wasn’t the Pharaoh at 124? 125?”

“Dear Gods,” Otogi blurted out before he could help himself, “what has happened?”

“It looks like a bomb went off,” Kaiba said, sounding uncertain. “The radius of the explosion doesn’t seem right, though. A lot of scorching, as if a massive fire has burned the place down. I think he summoned a God inside.”

“What?”

“Judging from the destruction and that roaring sound we heard, I say he has summoned one of his Gods. I have seen him do it before, when I was still on… speaking terms with Gozaburo. He had the Pharaoh show it to me because I was a ‘skeptical numbskull’.” Kaiba shrugged. “I don’t believe in Gods, or in any God. I still don’t believe it, even when I saw him summon one - it has to be some kind of trick, and I thought for a moment that Gozaburo had managed to manipulate the world into a virtual reality already.”

“You have seen a God?”

“Or whatever it was.” Kaiba tapped on the keys, his cheeks showing an unnatural red flush. “It was a red dragon with two mouths, and it was nasty. Powerful, though. Yes, pretty powerful.”

Otogi slowly moved to the bed to sit next to Kaiba. He was so engrossed in looking at the screen that he didn’t say anything about his close proximity.

“Wow… that’s some kind of destruction.”

“Not all cameras are working, otherwise I would have seen Noa or Gozaburo… presuming that they’re still there, of course.” More clicking at the keys, and the images on the screen overlapped, flashing in front of Otogi’s eyes.

“I pick up massive movement in the elevators. Maybe the servants, to clean up the mess.”

“Then we’re just in time, nii-sama,” Mokuba said and beamed at him.

“Yes. It looks like the building is working on half its usual power though. I guess that summoning the God caused the electrical circuits to overloaded. The back-up generators are also working at half power, the damage is enormous. However, it would make it easier for me to get to that stupid vault.”

Kaiba was in his element, no matter how his body was demanding medical treatment. After being isolated for so long and deprived of food and drink, he was extra sensitive to infections. It was pure willpower that kept him going, but Otogi had noticed his feverish cheeks. If he didn’t get Kaiba to the Resistance soon, he would die after all. Anzu was a nurse, and Shizuka had some medical knowledge too.

“Here,” Kaiba pointed out. “On the 47th floor. Strange, I had thought Gozaburo would keep them in his own quarters.”

“What’s that? Another security camera?”

“Yes. This laptop is linked with every camera in the building. This one monitors the vault, but I’m sure I can shut it off from here, as long as I can hack into the mainframe. That gives you every opportunity you need to rob it empty.”

“Hey! What? Me?”

“You’re the one in the best condition,” Kaiba said dryly. “Besides, the 47th floor is only six stairs up up. Nobody uses the emergency stairs.”

“Kaiba…”

“I’ll unlock the vault for you and disable the camera feed. What more do you want? You do want those Items, right? Consider this as a favor… a token of gratitude for your earlier help.” Kaiba mangled the word ‘gratitude’ beyond recognition, and Otogi had to swallow a few times. If he could get those Items… Yuugi believed strongly in their effect, and what if it really was true? Who knew how many of those Items Gozaburo had, and combined with the ones in Yuugi’s possession…

“I’ll do it,” he said, determined. He was strong. He could do this - for himself, for the Resistance, for Yuugi, for Shizuka… for the whole world.

--------------------------------

A large shadow moved over the ruined buildings, tearing the silence with a thunderous roar. Large wings flapped, splitting the winds, and the immense Dragon of the Heavens snaked through the clouds, moving up and down, its large tail coiling in the air.

Marik looked up with a large grin on his face. “I like hunting!”

“Idiot,” Bakura muttered. He didn’t feel at ease and he wondered why.

Something had shifted, changed in the total scheme of things… of power. Bakura feared that all his plans would be foiled, just because the Pharaoh couldn’t contain his anger. Why was Mahaado so special that he deserved to be rescued? He was a General, a magician-General to boot, he had to be able to save himself!

“I like blowing things up,” Marik informed him. He enjoyed walking outside in the weak sun, and he had waved at the large God before. Osiris had opened the lower one of its two mouths and greeted him in return - by blowing him away. The cuts and scrapes on his arms were tell-tale signs, and Marik had been terribly lucky not to break all of his bones as he bounced over the ground.

Bakura hadn’t enjoyed his ride on the back of the large dragon. He didn’t know why the Pharaoh favored summoning Osiris so much. Well, the God provided easy transportation, but for the rest? Bakura knew that the two other Gods were far stronger and more impressive, so why the red dragon? He didn’t know, didn’t ask and didn’t care. Some things were just the way they were. He kicked a few pebbles to the side. They were just at a few meters away from the Pharaoh, not leaving him out of their sight as they had done with Mahaado.

“I like his pretty armor too,” Marik sighed dreamily. “Midnight blue looks so sexy on him.”

“Shut the fuck up, Marik,” Bakura snarled in return. “We don’t have any armor.”

“I like pain.”

“Shut. the. fuck. up.”

“Fine, you incessant grouch.”

That had to be the most difficult word he had heard Marik use to date, and Bakura widened his eyes in surprise, until he reminded himself that it was Marik who he was dealing with; nobody knew what was going on in his mind, let alone Marik himself.

“We’re going to get Mahaado back and tear that Resistance into pieces, so please pay attention.”

“I don’t like pretty magician-general,” Marik said and scratched at a large cut in his lower left arm. “He takes pretty Pharaoh away from us.”

“Pharaoh-sama has his reasons.” Bakura noticed the shadows moving and didn’t look up this time; Osiris was just moving in circles close to them, ready to attack whenever the Pharaoh wanted him to.

“Where would this Resistance be?”

“We’re going to the location we picked up the last of Mahaado’s thoughts,” Bakura explained to him for the umpteenth time. “Hopefully we can find something there, a clue, some tracks… they have captured him there, so maybe they aren’t far away.”

“Shouldn’t we be telling pretty Pharaoh where to go to, then?”
Bakura shrugged. “Maybe he has such a bond with Mahaado that he can find him by himself.”

That made Marik scowl, scrunching up his face in the process, and he was very close to a full-fledged pout when he stared at the debris on the street and continued walking, moping.

Marik disliking Mahaado wasn’t big news and barely useful information, so Bakura didn’t pay any attention to him. He looked at the Pharaoh again. He was wearing the midnight dark blue armor, the recent one Gozaburo had given him. He seemed extremely focused today. Usually, the Pharaoh felt a little slow and tired, but now his eyes were sharp and blood red, glaring menacingly. Bakura pondered if that was because of his supposedly bond with Mahaado. He would maybe inquire about it when they were back at the KaibaCorp. building. Gozaburo would be pretty pissed that the top floor was gone, but well, that was what you got when summoning a God inside.

He grinned. Osiris hadn’t liked being summoned in such a tight spot, and had busted out exactly as the Pharaoh had expected. Spreading its wings had already caused massive damage, and the God had breathed fire to fight itself out of its confinement. With just a single command of the Pharaoh it had taken all three of them on its back, flying out to this part of town. Bakura shivered at the memory. He wasn’t looking forward to another ride on Osiris; it was damned up high, and the dragon’s scales were so smooth that he had feared falling off.

“Was it here?”

“It was around here, Pharaoh-sama,” Bakura confirmed. The intersection was deserted, the roads showing potholes and general lack of maintenance; the remaining traffic lights, not in working order, were silent witness to a city that once knew daily life. A huge factory dominated the intersection, its huge walls the only thing standing upright.

“Here.” The Pharaoh looked around, and Osiris lowered itself so much that its tail hit the ground, its two-mouthed head right behind his master. Bakura shivered from the God being so close, while Marik looked disinterested.

“Then we begin our search here,” he said. “We stay close, as I do not want a repetition of what has happened.”

“What could happen to you with a God at your side, pretty Pharaoh?” Marik asked.

“I do not want anything to happen to you either, the both of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” Marik cheered, and started to look around with renewed vigor, as if he could spy Mahaado somewhere. Bakura just shook his head in exasparation. There was obviously no one in sight. If he were a member of the Resistance, he would have high-tailed it out of here a long time ago, with the General as a hostage. What the hell where they doing here? This was of no use.

Marik stared intensely at the huge factory wall but there was nothing in sight. The Pharaoh crossed the intersection, Osiris so close to him that it overshadowed both him and the crossroads. The God’s large wings were pliable but so strong that they knocked over anything they came into contact with, crumbling down more of the surrounding buildings.

“Where is pretty magician-general?” Marik asked out loud.

“We will find him,” the Pharaoh answered. “He has to be around somewhere. Can’t you concentrate on his heka and feel it?”

A voice answered him from a distance. “You can, my Pharaoh. When you take off that armor.”

-----------------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle, part 8

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 17:59:34 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence. This chapter contains graphic violence!
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Key: ----------- = scene change

To Duo’s relief, the corridor widened significantly. They could finally walk next to each other and keep an eye on their surroundings. To their surprise, the walls were perfectly plastered, without a single crack, showing no signs of destruction or decay. The corridor itself was free of any rubble, but not of cobwebs, fat spiders and other insects flying and crawling around. They picked up on the unmistakable sounds of rats, but as long as they didn’t encounter them, it was fine by Duo - he hated rats. His special costume protected him well enough from all the creepy crawlers; he couldn’t imagine how he would’ve felt without it. Heero flailed with his hands every now and then - he had brought insect repellent with him, but it just didn’t seem to work against all the bug life down here.

The air was suffocating hot and damp again. The whirling clouds of dust made the both of them cough, and the thick cobwebs clouded their sight, despite the intense flashlights they were carrying. Duo didn’t want to know how all the webbing stuck to his costume and his hair; it wasn’t something a good shower wouldn’t get rid of, and he wasn’t into archaeology to stay pristine clean. After a while, according to his watch it didn’t take longer than twenty minutes, they arrived at a large arch, covered by unsurprisingly more cobwebs. They had to use their knives to cut through the hideously thick strands.

“Gross,” Duo whined as his entire knife was encased in mummified webbing. He tried to pluck some off of the blade, growling when it of course stuck to his fingers. If anything, they were the first ones to visit this place since a long, very long time; that made it all worthwile. He could already feel the adrenaline and excitement of a discovery building up in his body. Heero grumbled something inaudible in return and stepped forward, setting foot on a new surface - a creaking surface.

“Wood,” he said in surprise. Duo shone on the floor with his flashlight; it was wood all right, and he knocked on it. He tested the planks by stomping on them with his heavy steel-toed boots and jumping a few times. Heero just shook his head at his antics.

“Be careful, Duo. I don’t want you to fall through it!”

“Don’t worry- it’s in excellent condition,” Duo said, sounding surprised as well. “And heey, no echo.”

“We must be in a very large room. We better determine its dimensions before we continue.”

“Can you see the other side?”

“No.”

“Damn. Where the hell are we?”

Heero looked around, the beam of his flashlight illuminating his surroundings. “I see some sort of railing over there. This looks like a balcony to me.”

“A balcony? I don’t think it’s easy accesible. Well, if this is a balcony, there has to be a way down. Another flight of stairs, perhaps.”

“We’ll follow this as far as it goes,” Heero suggested.

Duo walked up to the railing and looked over it, his flashlight shining all the way down. He whistled. At first sight, this was a large, oval-shaped room, probably some kind of shrine, as Duo thought he saw an altar down below. This was some kind of temple, hidden under the Royal Palace - was this the shrine the map had pointed out? But a shrine to what - a secret religion? To worship gods that had been forgotten in time? The Peacecraft family had never mentioned certain gods or idols to be of any importance in Sanq. It was impossible to determine the dimensions of the room without proper light, and Duo moved away from the railing. Just as he did that, his flashlight caught a glimpse of gold. A statue, perhaps?

“Duo, what’s taking you so long?”

“Come over here,” Duo answered. He waited until Heero had caught up with him and shone with his flashlight down again. Heero pursed his lips as he added his own flashlight to it; he squinted his eyes as more gold was revealed.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Heero said, pensive. “A golden idol, but as we don’t have a clue about the dimensions of the room, we can’t determine the size of the idol..statue…whatever it is. I never knew that the people of Sanq actively worshipped a deity or an entity. It looks huge from what we can see from here. Fascinating…let’s find a way down, so we can properly see what it is.”

“So…do you think Relena knows of the dark deep secrets of her ancestors?” Duo inquired. “Whatever it is down there. Maybe they worshipped tasty, young virgins.”

“Duo, quit it,” Heero grumbled. “I saw some oil lamps, we better give them a try if we want to have more light.”

“Fine.”

Duo gazed at Heero’s retreating back while his right hand moved slowly but surely towards the holster of his Uzi. His fingers trembled. No, he wasn’t going to shoot Heero Yuy, the man he loved… the man he still loved, but kept so many secrets from him. This was driving him insane. How could Heero pretend everything was all right, after everything that had happened? Missing out on dinner and talking to Chang Wufei of all people, and not telling him, Duo, what was going on? Why didn’t he talk, why wasn’t he talking about Chang, his connection to Khushrenada and White Fang, and how it all tied to the Never-Ending Circle?

“Are you coming?” Heero sounded genuinely concerned and bewildered, as Duo usually was the first to eagerly explore and look around, often without checking his surroundings.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, coming.”

Using their waterproof matches, both Heero and Duo ignited the oil lamps, coughing every now and then from the dense smoke.

“What a stench,” Duo said, lighting another lamp. He couldn’t determine what kind of oil it was; it reeked of kitty litter. Had these people not heard of scented oil? The lamps hadn’t been used in decades and were made of plain pottery, no specific markings or decorations on them. Duo hugged the wall, measuring the distance between the lamps. They were all evenly spaced, and apparently all refilled before this place had been abandoned; surely enough, there was more light, but not enough to completely illuminate the environment. They circled the entire room, and ended back up at the arch where they had entered. Heero scratched the back of his head, clearly confused.

“Did you find a way down?”

“No, you?”

“I guess people could only access this balcony the same way we entered,” Heero said, pointing at the large arch behind them. “Whatever has happened, ever since they left here, they felt it was necessary to close this entrance off with traps.”

“The balcony is so large, it’s like a balcony of a theatre.”

“If they held ceremonies for the golden idol we saw, the people could watch it from above. Perhaps the shrine was holy ground to the people of Sanq, and only their priests were allowed to be close to the statue? We’ve seen civilizations with more bizarre rituals and traditions. This is history, Duo - this is uncovered history of one of the world’s greatest nations, who has collapsed under the strain of war. They actually worshipped a deity or entity, and we’ve discovered it!”

Duo couldn’t help but smile, Heero’s enthusiasm was contagious. He knew very well the familiar feelings of making a discovery that was going to rock the archaeological world. Uncovering artifacts was one thing, discovering something entirely new was a completely different thing. This was going to shed an entire new light on Sanq and its traditions. The adrenaline was still raging through him, and Duo couldn’t wait to find out more. This was what he was born for; the excitement, treading unknown territory, together with Heero.

“We have to find a way down. I want to take a closer look at that statue.” Heero waved with his hand as if he could brush off the thick smoke clouds from the oil lamps. The stench was getting to them; Duo thought it reeked of kitty litter before, now it smelled like kitty litter on fire.

He took his backpack off of his shoulders and opened it, rummaging through its contents.

“What are you doing?” Heero asked.

“You did bring your grapple hook, right?”

“Of course I did, but you can’t use it now, Duo! We don’t know the height of the ceiling, or the distance to the ground floors…you can’t simply descend without knowing the altitude!”

“Have I done anything otherwise?”

“At least you’d make a rough estimate before!”

“I estimate it’s about forty feet, tops.” Duo said, attaching the hook to the grappler gun.

“Are you sure it’s going to hold? We don’t know the density of the rock - if you want me to measure it… the hook won’t settle if the rock is too thick to take it. We better descend from the balcony, Duo.”

“The wood is sturdy, yeah, but I put my faith more into solid rock than wood.” Duo straightened himself, aiming the gun. “Besides, we winged shit like this before, remember?”

“Oh yes I remember,” Heero muttered, digging through his backpack to retrieve a similar device. Duo took his time aiming, and fired. The hook propelled itself into the stone ceiling, and Duo tugged at the cord.

“It’s okay,” he said, content. The grappling gun and hook were his favorite to work with; it was extremely lightweight and he could use it to descend from any kind of material, provided it was solid and stable enough. It beat carrying around heavy rope anytime; with this device he was even more mobile. Wrapping the cord around his gloved hands, Duo set himself up for the jump. This was his speciality - jumping into the deep, into the unknown. Yes, when it came to fucking artifacts, he thought to himself. As brave and courageous as he was to get past each and any obstacle to retrieve an artifact, he was uncertain and not-so-independent in his relationships, especially when it involved Heero Yuy. Bugger! And I realize that when I’m about to make a jump into a forty feet deep dark abyss! Maxwell, you fucking moron!

“Duo!” Heero yelled, but he already moved forward, leaping over the railing of the balcony and he clung to his rope, as he plummeted down. “Duo!”

Despite the speed of his jump, Duo only swung back and forth a few times before stabilizing himself. He could see the ring of steadily burning oil lamps, forming a perfect circle around him; his own flashlight, strapped onto his shoulder again, shone down into the darkness below. Adrenaline mixed with fear pumped through his veins - what was he going to find down there, besides the statue?

He heard the metal clanking of another grapple hook being launched and attaching itself to the ceiling. Heero was about to follow him within a matter of seconds, and Duo wanted to get out of his way. He climbed down rapidly, enjoying the physical exercise - he’d always been good at climbing, Howard’s favorite part of training. His flashlight shone around him and Duo caught again glimpses of gold. He was descending in front of the statue, how convenient...and a miracle that he didn’t hit it when he had jumped so recklessly. He snickered.

Letting go of the rope, he miscalculated the last few feet and hissed in pain when he landed awkwardly on the floor, almost spraining his ankle. He heard Heero calling for him, and he gritted through his teeth, cursing himself mentally.

“I’m fine!” He yelled back. “Just…misjudged the last bit, that’s all.” He couldn’t overhear Heero’s answer, and he got back on his feet, trying to take a few steps.

“Ouch… fuck..!”

His flashlight revealed a huge golden bowl without any decorations, and its purpose was obvious. It took Duo only two tries with his matches to get the oil burning; coughing a little, he hopped over to a similar bowl, igniting the oil in it as well. In the meantime, Heero finished his descent and pointed out the two other bowls behind the statue; without another word they lit those as well, returning to the front of the statue to see what it really was.

Duo wolf-whistled. He’d been right about the gold - the entire statue was covering with it, from head to toe. Even if it was only a coating, the value was through the roof, worth millions and millions, judging from the height and proportions.

“You must be the God of Death,” Duo said, almost amused. The flickering light slowly revealed more and more of the statue, the gold enveloping it in warm colors - but no matter how warm or pleasant the colors were, a strange cold radiated off of it.

“Incredible,” Heero said with a hint of awe in his voice. “He looks more like a guardian to me, though.”

“Guardian.. God of Death… it’s all the same.” Duo took a step back, craning his neck to take the statue in completely. It was a male person in crouching position, his right leg on the floor, his left leg drawn up to his chest, leaning a little forward. His face resembled one of a warrior who had seen too many wars, with his mouth drawn into a tight, downward line, looking very unhappy, all but grimacing. Lines were added to the face as if to suggest old age, but instead added to the unfriendly, bitter, cold appearance. The eyes were laid in with dark stones, undoubtedly gems, but Duo couldn’t make out what kind of gems from this distance. The same stones appeared in the statue’s ears; at least someone had made an effort to ‘personalize’ it a little.

“What the hell…” Duo mumbled. The first pair of arms were crossed over the chest, the second pair spread out and were bent at the elbows, while the third pair was resting close to the legs. It was hard to see what kind of clothing the statue was ‘wearing’; Duo could see a sash that was held together by a cracked skull, and some layers of robe, reaching just above the knee; the rest of the legs and feet seemed to be bare. The style eluded Duo - it wasn’t Greek or Roman, neither Asian nor any other well-known culture - it was very different from anything he’d ever seen before. It was far from Sanq’s usual style of modest pottery with a flower pattern painted on it. His eyes were immediately drawn towards the six arms and the hands - they were all holding weapons, a remarkably aggressive statue for a peace-loving country. The left hand of the upper pair held a scimitar, while the right hand was holding a scythe. The left hand of the second pair held a nasty looking trident, and the right hand clung to something that resembled a large whip. The left hand of the third pair held a large tube-like weapon that Duo didn’t recognize, and the right hand was covered by a sharp, pointy shield, also with some unrecognizable weapon attached to it.

“A Guardian of what?” Duo asked when he found his voice again. “The Never-Ending Circle?”

“Who knows? Look at all the weapons it’s holding. Six arms, six hands, and they’re all holding something to kill and destroy.”

“Nice people, those Peacecrafts…”

“It’s amazing,” Heero breathed. “We must take pictures. This is the first and maybe only sign of early worship in Sanq country…”

“The early worship of weapons? Of violence? Your pretty princess will probably faint when she hears about all of this.”

“Relena doesn’t faint that fast,” Heero muttered. “It’s a historical breakthrough - we can prove with this statue that Sanq knew or even worshipped violence before the Peacecrafts rose to power.”

“That will hurt,” Duo said. He could only imagine the reaction of the Queen of the World when she heard that her ancestors had bend backwards for a golden statue that was wielding six weapons. Six weapons…why six? And why the choice of weapons?

“Hey, Heero, you did see the scythe up there, right?”

“I noticed it. Do you think it’s the one we’re looking for?”

“No, it’s attached to the hand. The blade doesn’t appear to fit with the staff we already found.”

Heero adjusted the settings of his video camera, recording the image of the statue.

“Amazing,” he repeated. “It’s not very detailed - the style is rather crude compared to the arts of the Greeks and Italians. The craftsmen didn’t pay much attention to the proportions either…”

“I wonder why they made him look so shitty,” Duo mused. “He’s the grouchiest statue I’ve ever come across.”

“I doubt he likes his job as a guardian, and lifting up six weapons at the same time,” Heero snorted. “This is excellent study material, predating Sanq history, I’m sure of it. Hopefully I can find some kind of mark, an autograph of the sculptor…”

Duo stretched, yawning out loud. They’d been at work for the whole day, barely taking breaks, and now they had ended up in this room with a grumpy statue. There was nothing else to see here besides the guardian.

“We have to come back here with a decent camera,” Heero continued, “with more lights! A film crew!”

“It’s just the statue,” Duo replied absent-mindedly, as he walked around it. It was just the statue indeed - nothing indicated that it had actually been worshipped. There was a small altar in front of it, flanked by the golden bowls with the burning oil. The surface was smooth, and empty - no other bowls, vials, ceremonial daggers or other artifacts…and how in the world was anyone supposed to reach this altar but from descending from above? He couldn’t see any entrance or exits.

“Are you done filming it?”

“Just a moment!”

“Okay.” Duo remained still so he wouldn’t disturb Heero’s recordings. Toying idly with the tuft of his braid - dear God, he was so going to need three bottles of shampoo and conditioner - he waited for Heero to finish.

“Hey, that’s strange.”

“What is it?”

“There’s something below the scythe’s blade,” Heero said, peering through the lens of his camera. “Come take a look, will you?”

Curiously, Duo did as he was asked and peeked over Heero’s shoulder, watching the footage.

“Here,” Heero moved his thumb.

“There’s another scythe, underneath it,” Duo said, dumbfounded. “A smaller one.”

“It’s a twin blade,” Heero said, staring once again. “An exact copy, but smaller, yes.”

“I think that one will fit with the staff,” Duo grinned. “Too bad you didn’t bring the staff from Khushrenada’s office, Heero.” He saw the other flinch, but didn’t comment on it.

“How are we ever going to get it?”

“It’s not that difficult - it has six arms, for crying out loud! It’s just like climbing into a tree.”

“Duo! Stop it! You can’t…!”

He was already too late - Duo jumped up to the first hand and hoisted himself up to the next pair of arms, using the hand for leverage. He was careful enough not to damage the statue, and made sure that he never stayed in the same position for longer than a few seconds. As he quickly found out, the statue was solid gold, and his heavy boots would leave dents and marks in the soft material if he lingered. It was quite ironic that such a valuable statue was hidden in this strange shrine underneath the royal palace, whereas the family had fled from the terror of war with nothing but their clothes and a few personal belongings, even living in modesty nowadays.

When he reached the blade, Duo moved his head a little, looking up at the face of the statue. It looked damaged from up here, as if someone had used metal claws to scratch the cheeks aggressively. No wonder you look so unfriendly, pal. He shivered violently, suddenly feeling creeped out. He quickly tore his eyes away from the face and leaned over to get what he had come for. Duo yanked at it, careful at first, until he noticed how crude and dull the blade was - contrary to its larger counterpart, that even after all that time looked like it could slice through everything. A cold shiver ran through him when he finally disentangled the blade, and he felt a sudden pang of pain in his chest. Gasping for breath, he remained silent and unmoving until the pain subsided; it went away as quickly as it had come. Moving down was as easy as climbing up and still careful as to not damage the statue, Duo held the blade clutched to his chest. His backpack was on the altar, and he opened the flap to pull out a piece of cloth to wrap around the blade. As Heero remained silent, Duo’s face turned sad. He heard footsteps behind him, and his shoulders slumped. This is it.

“Is this the point where you take the blade from me, Heero?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking stupid with me,” Duo hissed, turning around, his braid dangling with the brusque movement. “I caught you talking to Wufei in the village. What exactly were you discussing with him? About how you were going to supposedly ‘double cross’ the big bad evil Khushrenada? About how you would leave all the work to me and tag merrily along until you could pry it from my dead hands? I never thought you would be capable of doing that - you’ve never done things like this before...!”

“I never have and I never will, Duo,” Heero said. “I haven’t sold my soul, no matter what you’re thinking. I did what I had to do, and I had to play on certain people’s emotions and feelings, yes, something I’m not exactly proud of. I had to make choices, difficult ones - not for myself, but for other people’s sake. I rather not have to take the blade from you by force, Duo.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he said again. “You’re not going to take it from me, Heero. This is our discovery, our artifact, not yours, not mine. I have a commission, you have a commission. We both agreed to recover the artifact. I don’t know all of the choices you made, and I’m sorry for the hardships you endured, I really am - but we hunted for sport, for the triumph, for the benefit of history and archaeology, not for the money!”

“I didn’t have much of a choice!” Heero shouted, more out of frustration than anything else. “Will you shut up and listen to me? It wasn’t my fault that these things have come up, that people wanted to blackmail Relena, defame her, dethrone her. I made a promise to her, and you know I always keep my promises. I couldn’t help it that something was going on that would determine my course of action for years to come! It hit me in the face at every corner I turned, every path that I took, every decision that I had to made, that I had to leave you behind, and I was trying to get back to you and see if there was…”

“If there was what?” Duo yelled.

“If there was anything left of the Duo Maxwell I knew and loved,” Heero said. “I never stopped loving you and I never will…and for the love of God, I’m doing all my best to keep you safe before you go down as well!”

“What do you mean by that?” Duo asked, voice soft. The blade, partly wrapped in the cloth, was lying in front of him - he needed his hands free for his guns…if necessary.

“This has grown over your head…heck, over my head too,” Heero answered. “It’s not only about the Never-Ending Circle. I told you before Duo, it’s about politics and its devastating implications for the entire world. If Relena’s position is compromised, if Khushrenada, the White Fang or the Romefeller Foundation get their hands on any sort of power to rule the world, there’s not going to be an Earth for much longer. I don’t want that to happen, you don’t want that to happen. I wasn’t planning on taking the scythe from you. I was planning to make you reunite the blade with the staff, and deliver the artifact to Winner as you were commissioned to do. I’d deal with the consequences concerning Khushrenada - but Winner would have his artifact and his redemption, and after that, I would make sure it would never fall in the wrong hands.”

“Even if you manage to keep the Never-Ending Circle from falling into the wrong hands, even if you manage to deal with an angry Khushrenada, that still leaves you with the blackmail,” Duo objected. “People can’t get away with blackmail. It’s a criminal offense…”

“I can live with that as long as Relena isn’t exposed,” Heero interrupted him, dejectedly. “As long as she’s well and the Peacecraft family in their positions and not in any danger, my involvement with it doesn’t matter. That’s my problem. I simply prefer to see the scythe not in the hands of Romefeller or White Fang.”

“Heero, you…”

“A lovers’ quarrel again, and again I interrupt it.”

Both Heero and Duo turned around and drew their guns before the man finished his sentence, light suddenly pouring into the room as several men with portable lanterns entered, revealing a similar archway as on the first floor; smudged and covered in dust and cobwebs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Duo yelled. Heero’s surprise wasn’t an act; he was just as baffled as Duo to find Khushrenada standing in front of them.

“What else do you think,” the man snorted, looking pristine in his Romefeller outfit - even his white pants were spotless. He was accompanied by Zechs Merquise, dressed in a red uniform that didn’t reflect any known military rank - the Romefeller Foundation was known for keeping a very different way of ranking.

“You’re going to attach the blade to the staff for me, Mister Maxwell, and then you’ll hand the Never-Ending Circle over to me. You’ll demonstrate to me how its powers can be used and I will use it accordingly - by then, our ways will happily part. A very good plan, if I do say so myself. Oh, and do put down those guns now, all right?”

Duo growled. More men were entering the room, all of them armed with hand guns, aiming at him and Heero. He didn’t drop his Uzis, but forced himself to relax, lowering his arms. They’d lose in a gun fight, and Khushrenada couldn’t probably care less if the both of them died here - he would still have his precious artifact, and he’d find another guinea pig to assemble it. Merquise stepped to the side, a box visible in his hands.

“I had something you didn’t have,” Khushrenada said, smugly. “Inside information. Though poor Zechs couldn’t recall every single…ah, every insignificant little detail, he vividly remembered the secret passageways and tunnel systems under the Palace. It’s a good thing he’d been in the resistance, for whatever it was worth - they used this system of tunnels and hallways to retreat to when Sanq was run over.”

“Idiot!” Duo mumbled, leaving it in the middle who he was referring to. Khushrenada smiled pleasantly, knowing he was holding all the trump cards.

“No gas, no weird puzzles or pressure pads, no dangling from ceilings,” the man sneered, “just an old layout and inside knowledge, Mister Maxwell.”

“You always find the right men to work for you, my dear Khushrenada,” Duo answered airily. “And if they’re not right, you simply kill them, right? You don’t deal with incompetence very well, do you?”

Khushrenada kept smiling. “Your debate skills aren’t working on me. I’m not that easy to anger.”

“True,” Duo returned a thousand-watt smile. “You send out your men to deal with your anger, preferably with cars. Shoved anyone else off of the road lately?”

“Tsk tsk,” Khushrenada said, shaking his head. Merquise pulled the lid off the box, taking out the small staff. The man had been silent, shoulders a little hunched.

“Attach it, Mister Maxwell,” he continued. “We’ll see for ourselves what powers it holds. I want to know if it summons the God of Death or not. I want to know how it works and how it can be used.”

“It won’t work,” Heero said, calmly. “Whatever you’ll try to do, Khushrenada, it’s in vain. You already failed.”

“What do you mean? You should know better, Mister Yuy.”

“Shinigami has long been summoned,” Heero said, voice barely a whisper. “At the moment the first part of his scythe was uncovered.”

“What do you mean?” Khushrenada repeated angrily.

“When you retrieved the staff from the island close to Cuba, his powers awoke. How many people exactly are still alive from that particular expedition?”

“Superstition,” Khushrenada said dismissively. “Coincidence. You can’t possibly scare me with that, Mister Yuy.”

“You should be careful,” a new voice was added to the company. Duo aimed his guns again, gritting his teeth this time. He’d recognize that voice any time.

“Superstition and ‘coincidence’ should never be discarded so easily,” Chang Wufei continued, stepping into the room, the light catching the blade of the katana on his back. “Especially when it comes to…treasure hunting.”

“Who else is invited?” Duo muttered, finally putting his guns down, shoving them back into their holsters. Chang ignored him, glaring at Heero briefly before retreating into the background again, dark eyes resting at the both of them. He stood next to an elderly man with a blue vest and light grey hair. Khushrenada’s men remained silent, guns ready, awaiting their orders.

Merquise all but shoved the staff into Duo’s face, and he grudgingly unwrapped the blade. There wasn’t much he could do now but to reattach the blade; he had to think of a solution fast. Now that Chang suddenly was added to the mix, he had no idea if that worked in his advantage or not, he didn’t know where the other was standing. He had to be friends with Heero, judging from what he had seen - but Duo didn’t know at the moment what to do. How could he make his way out of here alive, with the artifact..and preferably with Heero? This was a damn mess he was in…and melancholically, he remembered how Quatre had told him that this case more than probably would grow over his head. The business man had a good notion of Khushrenada’s involvement, but even he couldn’t have foreseen the White Fang and the entire Romefeller Foundation preying on the Never-Ending Circle.

Huffing, he tried to attach the blade to the staff, but there was no way he could fit it together; there was an opening in the upper part of the staff, but the blade couldn’t be wedged into it. Annoyed, he tried again and again. Maybe he needed the larger blade after all, not this crude, blunt object that didn’t fit at all. He shivered from a sudden gust of wind. Wind...? Where is that coming from? He irritably shook his head.

“What’s taking so long, Mister Maxwell?”

“It doesn’t fit,” Duo said. Heero moved closer to him. “The blade doesn’t match with the staff at all. Maybe it was for decoration purposes and the real blade is around here somewhere.”

Khushrenada snorted again. “I don’t think so. Stalling for time is of no use, Mister Maxwell. The statue is taking up every little bit of room…but very well, we can always take a look around.”

He snapped with his fingers towards his uniformed men, who immediately spread throughout the room, weapons hoisted over the shoulders.

“Nothing here!”

“Nothing here either!”

Khushrenada threw another smug look at Duo. One by one, the men reported that nothing was to be found. Duo ignored everything around him and tried once again to get both parts to fit - to no avail. Heero looked over his shoulder, studying the object attentively as Duo was fiddling with the blade and the staff. The silence was disrupted by a low, deep groan.

Duo widened his eyes. “Damn..! It’s been a while since I had something to eat.”

“That didn’t come from you,” Heero said, almost accusingly. Khushrenada looked bored.

“Where did it come from, Mister Yuy? Don’t tell me you can’t manage to assemble one simple artifact…”

“I don’t know,” Merquise suddenly said out loud. It was the first time he spoke. “It didn’t sound natural to me…” Another deep groan cut him off, and the men grabbed their weapons, eyes darting throughout the room.

“What’s going on? Who’s making these sounds?”

“Fuck,” Duo said out loud, and reached for his guns just like Heero for his shotgun, and cocked them, even if he didn’t know yet who or what his target was.

“What the hell is going on?” Khushrenada repeated, a slight crack in his calm demeanor, and his eyes almost rolled out of their sockets when he suddenly realized what was going on - the statue was moving. It was moving! Slowly unfolding the crossed arms, it started to straighten itself, stretching lazily.

Heero pointed his guns at the statue, finger at the trigger. Solid gold, and as tall as a building - how the hell were they even going to bring this one down?

“I think it wants its blade back,” he commented.

“No shit,” Duo said. “It doesn’t even match anyway.” He quickly glared at the two parts of the artifact, lying on top of the altar.

“Don’t you even dare think of it,” Khushrenada growled, reaching for Duo.

“We can’t…” he started, aiming at Khushrenada who moved towards him, but they were both interrupted by loud screams of agony from Khushrenada’s personal army. The statue, standing straight, was attacking the men and they cried out in horror and pain as they were pierced by the trident, sliced by the scythe, choked by the whip-like weapon or brutally crushed by the pointy shield.

“Fire! Fire, you fools!” the man yelled, the artifact temporarily forgotten. Some of the men started to fire, a few hesitant bursts at first. Heero and Duo fired at the statue as well, the bullets striking its surface, lodging into the gold. As soon as the others opened fire, the moving statue lifted up all three pairs of arms with the shield in front of its upper body and face, effectively deflecting all the bullets. The ricochets flew around, hitting some of the mercenaries who fell to the floor, crying out in pain.

“Hold your fire!” Khushrenada bristled as soon as he noticed that firing at the statue didn’t work. “Retreat!”

He didn’t need to say that twice - the remaining men made a beeline for the exit, but they didn’t go unnoticed. The groaning statue all but stomped on them, crushing human bodies below its feet, cutting the survivors off from the exit. There was too little room to move. The tall statue put one foot in front of the other, walking; its hands and weapons grazed the walls, its movements brusque and uncontrolled. It had already demolished the wooden balcony, and rubble and rock came tumbling down - the whole shrine would cave in if this continued.

“We have to find a way to stop it!” Heero fired at the statue again as soon as it moved and unsurprisingly, it immediately crouched down when the bullets hit it, arms covering its upper body and face. Wufei held the katana in front of him; he’d tried to cut into the statue.

“We do not get out of here alive if we do not do something!”

“Mister Maxwell…?” Khushrenada phrased it as a question, though his tone of voice was commanding, a slight hint of fear to it. “I suggest you better find a way…”

“Who, me? Or else you’re going to blackmail me too?” Duo snorted, lowering and holstering his Uzis - he was out of ammunition anyway - and looked at the man. “I don’t know why you’re asking me to find a solution.”

“You and Mister Yuy are the experts on situations like this,” he snarled. “Or do you really want to die here?”

“No,” Duo shot back, “but I hope you do realize that I have no other choice but to give the scythe back. That prompted it to become alive, and with a bit of luck, it’ll…”

“No! Not the scythe!” Khushrenada protested loudly, and lunged for Duo again, closing the distance between them with a few large steps. Duo quickly picked up the two parts of the artifact, growled and tried to turn away.

“Idiot! What…” As he turned around, his hands moved over the two parts, sliding the blade over the staff and he heard a loud snap; his last clear, conscious thought was that he probably broke it.

A sting of pain was all the warning he got before the blade started to light up, glowing a sickly green - Khushrenada and Merquise barely had a second to jump out of the way before he lashed out.

“Duo!” Heero cried, but promptly had to duck as the scythe swung his way, missing his head by a mere millimeter. Duo growled, fighting against the force flowing through his body, forcing him to move at will – against his will – and he tried to push it back, not to give into it, and he cried and he crawled, howled and gasped…he moved forward, slowly, stepping past the small altar, walking towards the golden statue. It was still crouching down close to the exit, trapping every one of them, arms in front of his body and face, waiting for…something to happen? It started to move when Duo approached and if it were possible, it seemed to tilt its giant head, the chagrined, unhappy expression becoming curious and…almost frightened. The next moment, it thrust the scimitar forward with unnatural, excessive force. Not blinking and with a movement faster than the human eye, Duo cut through the arm as slicing with a hot knife through butter. The large limb fell to the floor, breaking into pieces, releasing the weapon it was holding. As it fell, the statue froze dead in its tracks, looking dumbfounded at its arm - then it kneeled down in front of Duo, groaning and rumbling.

An eerie silence reigned.

“Duo…” was the first word Heero spoke, his shotgun still in his hands, but not aimed at him. Wufei was standing close to him, his katana lowered, suspicion clear in his eyes. Nothing was heard but ragged breathing, soft moaning from injured soldiers and pebbles hitting the floor. Duo stared back at him, lips drawn in a cocky smile. He was just standing there with the scythe in his hands - a perfect, polished and razor sharp scythe, much unlike the blunt, dull blade and old, fragile staff they had found earlier.

“Duo?” Heero tried again.

Khushrenada looked from one to another, pursing his lips. The situation had changed - not only didn’t he hold the trump cards anymore, Duo Maxwell seemed to be…very different now, as well as the Never-Ending Circle. It was pure power, surging through the room - everyone felt it, and he wanted it. He had lived for this. He didn’t need much time to collect his bearings, or draw his small handgun.

“The Never-Ending Circle,” he said, voice smooth and mock-friendly. “Give it to me, Mister Maxwell. Now.”

“Don’t call me that!” Duo rumbled, voice strikingly lower, and his movement was once again so fast that Khushrenada didn’t see him moving. He yelped indignantly when his gun was cut in two, the blade of the scythe flashing in front of his eyes. Staggering backwards, Merquise was the one to immediately react - drawing his own gun, he aimed at Duo and shot. Right between the eyes.

-------------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Card Captor Sakura, Ray of Light, Kinomoto Sakura/Yue

Sat, 07 Mar 2009 20:22:30 GMT

Title: Ray of Light
Fandom: Card Captor Sakura
Characters: Kinomoto Sakura & Yue
Word count: 2.037
Genre: gen, a little fluff, slight angst
Rating: G
Summary: Sakura wanted to spend some time alone with Yue, but when her wish comes to pass... can she act upon what she's feeling?
Author’s note: for selena__wolf's request for the Valentine's Day Event at fic_on_demand.

--------------------------

“This is not for you, Kero-chan,” Kinomoto Sakura said admonishingly, as she saw the head of the little Guardian pop up at the edge of the large picnic basket. She had just finished another batch of sandwiches and put them into the basket, carefully wrapped so they would stay fresh. She wedged the sandwiches between the fruit she had packed, and a bottle of water and a thermos filled with sweetened tea…this was going to be one heavy basket.

Kero wasn’t really deterred by Sakura’s words, and leaned into the basket, his eyes getting bigger and bigger at all the food he saw.

“Strawberries!” he exclaimed. “Pastries!”

“Not for you,” Sakura repeated and closed the lid of the basket, almost catching his head. Kero pouted and crossed his paws in front of his chest, but due to his small size, his angry stance was far from impressive.

“Where are you going to? It’s late. You shouldn’t be outside on your own!”

“Kero-chan,” Sakura smiled at him. She was grateful for his protective streak, but as the new Master of the Clow Cards, she could take care of herself. “I’m going to meet up with a friend.”

“Why so secret?” Kero narrowed his eyes. Sakura had been looking around and moving silently yet quickly, as if she was afraid to get caught. Her father was going to be late tonight, and she wasn’t sure when Touya was going to get home… she looked a bit rushed.

“I just want some time for myself,” the girl muttered softly, and she blushed. She had spend so much time trying to catch the Clow Cards, and she still had all her homework and her chores to do…and keep everything magical and mystical from her father and her brother.

Kero was about to launch into a lecture about how important the Cards were and that Sakura had to do her best, but it dawned to him that she was right; she barely had had any time for herself, and even though he helped out with some of her chores, the bulk of the work still was on her shoulders. Sakura had never complained, or asked for anything for herself.

“You should take a little time for yourself,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. He assumed she was going to hold the picnic with Tomoyo-chan, her best friend. “Relaxing is good! It’s going to be so much fun to have a picnic together!”

He reached for the lid of the basket to open it again, but Sakura put her hands on it, blushing heavily.

“I’m sorry Kero-chan,” she said.

“All right, all right, I won’t eat any of it!” He pouted again, but was taken aback when Sakura shook her head.

“No Kero-chan, I want to be alone with my friend,” she said. “You should stay at the house…”

“Whaaat? You want to leave without me?” Kero was more surprised than angry and he noticed Sakura’s blush and then… yes, then everything came together.

“You’re going to meet up with that snowrabbit!” he bursted out. When Sakura blushed even deeper, he got more worked up. “With Yue?” His voice went up a few notches. “Oh! Now I know why you were preparing all that food! Yue is always the one to be spoiled!”

“Don’t be mad, Kero-chan,” Sakura said, as the guardian snorted loud. “I always give you my dessert! It’s just…”

“He doesn’t even eat,” Kero mumbled as Sakura finished her preparations and put the leftovers in the refridgerator. Could it be that he was really jealous? He was so used to having the girl’s attention, that it almost physically pained him to see her leave without him. His anger was mostly about his own behavior, not Sakura’s - he should know better than to give into his jealousy. It wasn’t like Yue was around all the time…but when he was, he managed to grate Kero on his very last nerve, even without saying a word. The other guardian was just… so stand-offish, that Kero couldn’t imagine that Sakura wanted to invest her time and energy into getting to know him better, to befriend him… but that was who Sakura was, and that was why he had chosen her to become the new Master of the Clow Cards.

“Here you are,” Sakura said as she put a bowl of jello in front of Kero. “A little extra treat for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Kero said, feeling slightly guilty. “Now go, and have a good time! I’ll take care of the house.”

“Thank you, Kero-chan!” Sakura beamed at him and she grabbed the basket, almost toppling over from its weight.

Leaving the house behind her, Sakura used her rollerblades to make her way over to the park, where she had agreed to meet Yue. She had asked him in person, not wanting to bother Yukito. She was always flailing in his presence; the more distant Yue was ironically easier to talk to, for some reason. She wasn’t really sure why she was dragging the picnic basket along with her. Kero had been right; Yue didn’t eat, but she had spend her entire afternoon creating and making the most wonderful sandwiches, for no other reason than to fill the basket…

How silly could a girl get? How difficult could it be to distinguish between Yue and Yukito? They were different, literally a moon and an earth different, and she was just plain silly, blurring the lines between the two of them. She had been in Yukito’s presence far more often than Yue’s - why did she want to be with him on this day… this evening? Nobody cared much for Valentine’s Day, and the guardian wouldn’t know such day existed in the first place. Silly, silly, silly…

It was quiet, evening had already fallen, and it was a bright, almost full moon…the park didn’t look eerie at all, just calm, comfortable…soothing. Carrying the basket, she passed the large fountain and took a turn to the right, having no trouble to find the spot she had asked him to meet her…and he was already there. He was leaning against a tree, looking up at the moon, long hair gently touching the ground.

She felt the blush returning with a vengeance, and she put the basket down without a word. He would already know she was there, right? If anything, he was probably thinking she wanted to talk to him about an emergency or something, she hadn’t been very clear on why she wanted to meet up with him, as it had taken her quite some stuttering to get her words out.

“Sakura,” he greeted her, his eyes immediately taking her in. She had dressed up in simple clothes, nothing of those extravagant costumes Tomoyo-chan was so fond of, and not her school uniform either. She was just Sakura, and that was how she wanted to…be with him. Just Sakura and just Yue.. if that was possible. Was there a little concern in his eyes? She took a deep breath.

“It’s a wonderful evening,” she said and she wanted to slap herself, mentally. What kind of greeting was that?

“It sure is,” he answered, his eyes glancing at the basket again, then darting back to her. He didn’t understand of course, why she had hauled the basket all the way with her. Sakura blushed once more, opened the lid and took out a large blanket, which she quickly spread out on the grass.

“Won’t you sit down?” She asked.

“Why is it that you want to speak to me?”

“Please sit down,” she said, not looking at him. She heard the rustling of his clothes, as he silently - and strangely obediently - sat down. In the meantime, she was unloading the food from the basket, her fingers slightly trembling.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Sakura said as she continued to empty the basket. She had prepared way too much food, and she couldn’t shake off that feeling of silliness.

“I know…” she started, and halted mid-sentence. She was looking straight at him, his open eyes staring at her, not with his usual aloofness, but with a curiosity, perhaps anxiety, radiating off of him. “I know I’m just a girl, and not a powerful man like Clow-san,” she continued.

“Your magic is…” Yue started, but she shook her head violently.

“No! Please, don’t.” She had told herself not to start crying. It was Valentine’s Day, it was supposed to be a fun day, not a tearful day. Why was she so upset? Yukito… Yue…

Slender fingers tilted her chin upward, and she blinked a few times, forcing herself to look back at him, even though she wanted to avert her eyes.

“Tears are not becoming of you, my Master,” Yue said, and with a gentle movement of his fingers, he wiped away the few drops that had managed to escape from her eyes.

It was too late to control herself now. Her hand was on his and she pressed his hand even closer, in full contact with her skin, with her cheek. His fingers felt surprisingly warm, despite the fairly chill temperature outside. She wanted to bury herself in his arms, and she flung herself forward. Maybe he had been expecting it, or maybe it was just a primal reaction - but his arms closed around her shivering body.

“It is too cold outside,” Yue murmured, but he didn’t move away. She grabbed at his clothes, hands against his chest, as if she could merge with him.

“Don’t go,” she said. “It’s a special day.”

He didn’t ask what kind of special day. He allowed her to lean against him, lean into him, even tug at his clothes. A stray strand of silvery-y hair caressed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, a fierce redness coloring her skin. It was obvious to see how much effort she had taken to prepare the food, to arrange this meeting, to be here at her very best. It wasn’t her fault that Clow had died and had left his guardians behind, to search for a new Master…and they had found one, and he had judged her…

…the very same Master, slightly trembling in his arms. He moved his hand to touch her cheek again, noticing that even in times of stress, she was still vibrant, so lively, so colorful. The cold colors of the moon didn’t fit her; silver and ice blue took away the radiance of her blush, drained her energy.

“Sakura,” he said her name, softly, as if tasting it. She was more than just a Master, and too young for all the hardships that her path had laid out for her.

“Yue,” she called his name, without the usual honorific. “I’m not like him..but I know that…”

He silenced her with a kiss. It was a mere brush of his lips, but they touched, lips on lips, his on hers, a sweet touch that…jolted his body, uncovering a sensation that he had never known before. Was this… what was it?

She didn’t let him go after he kissed her, as she immediately tilted her head for another one, this time her lips searching out his. A taste, a bland taste perhaps, but an exciting one - one he had never experienced before, and one that made him crave for more… he looked down at Sakura, still in his arms, almost cradling like a baby, and she smiled at him. It felt like a transfer of life, this…warmth inside him, this warmth that he immediately recognized as Sakura’s doing, her energy, her lust for life…and it was confusing and upsetting him, yet he couldn’t deny how good and wonderful it felt.

Time passed, and they hadn’t spoken again. More kisses, soft breaths exchanged between them, a faint passion, the start of something…something more than what they shared before. Yukito…Yue…maybe it was confusing for them both, but as it was, any passerby, if any, would see a beautiful young man and a cheerful young girl in each other’s arms, on a warm woollen blanket, with food displayed out of a wicker picnic basket…dutifully ignored, as they were too busy kissing, strands of hair tangling, blush increasing, love blooming.

------------------------------

Naruto, A bowl of ramen and a bug, Uzumaki Naruto/Aburame Shino

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 21:46:12 GMT

Title: A bowl of ramen and a bug
Fandom: Naruto (Shippuuden)
Characters: Uzumaki Naruto & Aburame Shino
Genre: gen, a little humor
Rating: G
Word count: 1.750
Summary: Naruto decides to invite Shino over for ramen to make up for his faux-pas of not recognizing his comrade earlier.
Author’s note: for selena__wolf's request at fic_on_demand Valentine's Day Event. My first Naruto fic in which..well, Naruto himself actually plays an active part ^^;. I have no idea how to incorporate his ‘dattebayo’ speech pattern, so I decided to leave it out.

---------------

The streets of Konoha were fairly crowded at this hour; dinner time, and Naruto wasn’t the only one looking for a place to eat. He was on his way to Ichiraku Ramen, but there was something gnawing at him that wasn’t only his appetite. He had a bad feeling, a feeling of disappointment. Naruto himself wasn’t disappointed, but he knew he had made someone else feel disappointed. After a hard day of training his mind usually blanked out, but this had been bugging him for quite a while now.

‘Bugging’ him.. how appropriate! Naruto put his hands behind his head and showed off a goofy smile, even though he was serious. Ichiraku Ramen was just straight ahead, and he had just found the solution to his little problem. He didn’t like it when others were disappointed in him, and after all, Shino had been right - one should never forget his comrades… even if they were hooded and cloaked and wore sunglasses all the time.

Where was the Aburame residence anyway? He knew his way around in Konoha in general, but well… just as he had barely interacted with Shino, he hardly knew where the other was actually living. He had to ask his way around and after receiving directions, he broke out in a jog and hurried to the north-eastern corner of the village. Naruto quickly suppressed a depressed, almost desperate feeling when he passed the darkened and eerie abandoned Uchiha compound. Looking straight forward, he made his way over to the Aburame residence without getting himself lost in thoughts about Sasuke…he had other things to deal with tonight, and Shino was as much as a team member, a comrade, as Sasuke had been.

There were people standing outside the large residence, but Shino wasn’t among them. It was dinner time; maybe he was too late and the whole family had already settled down to eat?

“You go just inside,” a tall man encouraged him, “they won’t bite.” It was a standard joke and the others bursted out laughing, only Naruto scowled just a little before moving away. True, the Aburame family was…kind of creepy, with all the bugs involved, but that didn’t mean they weren’t a valuable asset just like any other of the clans. Naruto had watched Shino fight during the Chuunin exams, when he went up against that Sound Ninja; effective, controlled and deadly - if it weren’t for his bugs, Naruto would say that Shino moved like a shadow, more befitting of the Nara clan.

He bumped into an elderly lady with a basket, and made his apologies. He offered to carry the basket for her and as they walked towards the residence, he asked if she knew where Shino was.

“I’m right here.”

“Don’t scare me like that!” Naruto blurted out as he all but tossed the basket up in the air, jumping as Shino’s sudden voice surprised him. He hadn’t seen him standing in the shadows of the small building, the falling evening darkening the bricks and tiles. He managed to catch the basket nonetheless and gave it to the elderly lady again, who muttered something about “noisy youth” under her breath.

“What are you doing here, Naruto-kun?” Shino asked, his voice calm and composed as usual, not unfriendly at all. His hands in his pockets, hooded and wearing his sunglasses despite this hour, there was nothing of his body visible but some parts of his face; the nose and cheeks. Naruto assumed it was because of the insects; it certainly drove the point home that he actually didn’t know anything about Shino at all. Hopefully, the other wasn’t sulking about him not recognizing him…heh.

“Shino, well, ehm, I just wanted, you know, ask…ehrm…” Naruto jabbed his fingers together, not looking at Shino directly. Was it only the bugs that made him feel uncomfortable around the other, or was it just their lack of interaction before? There were no bugs in sight, so he just had to get over it. He looked up and smiled brilliantly. “Did you already have dinner? I wanted to ask if you’d come along with me to Ichiraku Ramen!”

“Ramen?” Shino sounded amused, yet cautious. Everyone knew of Naruto’s love of this particular type of food. Ramen wasn’t really a part of his standard diet, and why would Naruto of all people ask him out…for dinner? Shino was fully aware of the Jinchuuriki’s background, and he wasn’t afraid of the demon fox, or of Naruto losing control - he was a comrade to him, hailing from the same village. That was more than enough to care for him.

“Yeah, their ramen is exceptionally good!” Naruto beamed at him. He didn’t say out loud why he wanted Shino to accompany him, but the other was quick to pick up. For all that people could say about Naruto - loud, demon, brat, not a ninja - he was honest and genuine, without any hidden agendas or secret plans. Shino knew that Naruto had been bothered that he was unable to recognize him, but he didn’t show it - his offer for ramen was the first thing he could think of to make up to it. It brought a small smile to Shino’s face, even if it was unnoticeable because of his high collar.

“All right, let’s go,” he said.

“Really?” Naruto’s eyes bugged a little before he composed himself, as far as he could - the thought of ramen, delicious ramen had made him drool at the corners of his mouth - but then he broke out in another vibrant smile. “Yes, let’s go already!”

They left the Aburame residence behind them and took another route to Ichiraku Ramen. Enthusiastic, Naruto elbowed Shino every now and then.

“Hey, hey, can you actually see something with those glasses? It’s already dark, you know!”

“I can see just fine, Naruto-kun.”

“Hey, hey, why do you wear so much clothing anyway? A vest and a jacket, and it covers up so much of your face!”

“Not everyone likes an orange jumpsuit, Naruto-kun.”

“Hey, hey, have you ever been…”

“We’re here, Naruto-kun.”

“Yeah!” Naruto moved inside and cheerfully greeted the elder proprietor, who welcomed his favorite customer back.

“You have brought someone with you!” He said out loud, noticing Shino standing behind Naruto. “Ah, I’ve seen you before! Aburame clan, right?”

“He knows me,” Shino couldn’t keep from pointing out. Naruto made a mock-pouty face, then flailed with his arms.

“All right, all right! I get it! Fine! You can get one bowl of ramen, and then I don’t want to hear anything about it anymore!”

Shino just nodded and sat down, as Ayame turned around to greet the both of them as well, obviously recognizing Naruto’s dinner guest - but before she could say anything, he quickly silenced her by ordering two bowls of their special barbecued pork ramen.

“I’m sorry, though,” Naruto said as soon as they were served their meals. He had his chopsticks in his hands, and stared into his bowl. “You were right. I should’ve known immediately who you were.”

“It’s all right,” Shino answered, staring into his bowl as well. He knew of ramen, had tasted it before, but that had been a long time ago… “After all, there are worse things to happen.”

“Yeah…” Naruto glanced at Shino. Akatsuki. Orochimaru. Sasuke. He fiddled around with his chopsticks. He was alive, he was eating his favorite food, and he was in the company of his comrade. What more could he wish for?

“Come on, eat, eat!”

“I’m not as fast as you when it comes to eating, Naruto-kun…”

“He can’t hear you,” Ayame said, laughing behind her hand. “See? Once he starts eating, he doesn’t see or hear anything.”

Shino shook his head, far too amused than he dared to admit. He took up his own pair of chopsticks, broke them apart and took some of the ramen out of the bowl. It tasted better than he remembered it… or it might be Naruto’s infectious cheerful company that made it taste so good, as he suddenly found himself talking and eating, despite Naruto stuffing himself silly - and hearing better than Ayame thought, as he commented on everything Shino said - and before he knew it, his bowl was empty and they had discussed a lot of things, from what would be beneath Kakashi-sensei’s mask to the next mission they would embark on..with their respective teams, of course.

“Teamwork is important,” Shino added as he pushed his empty bowl to the side, “but it’s a set-up to work together, individuals working as a group to obtain a certain result. It doesn’t matter who’s your teammate, it could be anyone, it’s not set in stone.”

“I’m so used to Sakura-chan in my team,” Naruto said, eyeing the fourth bowl he had emptied in the meantime. He was starting to get full. “Sai was..a whole different matter.”

“True, the best is to have teammates you’re familiar with. When you’re adjusted to each other, that’ll gain the best results.”

Naruto refrained from burping and he leaned back, just a little, and rubbed his belly. “Phew! I think I have enough for one evening.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Shino offered as Naruto’s place was closer to Ichiraku than his own. After paying for the meal, they left the place, Shino walking quietly and calmly, Naruto swaggering, loudly reminiscing the delicious ramen he just had. The streets were far less busy; people had returned home, to be with their families.

They halted in front of the building where Naruto lived.

“Thank you for the invitation and the dinner,” Shino said.

“You’re welcome,” Naruto beamed at him. Ah, what a wonderful feeling to have the air cleared between them! Maybe he should’ve taken Sai out to dinner instead of fighting with him. Nah, they had started off a wrong foot the moment they saw each other. Shino was someone different.

“You know…” despite the darkness, Shino had seen the dilapidated condition of the building, “whenever you feel like it, you’re welcome to have dinner with us.”

“Thank you,” Naruto answered, slightly surprised but genuinely happy. “That’s great! I certainly will take you up on that.”

“All right,” Shino nodded. “Until later, Naruto-kun.”

It was of no use to return the sentiment, as Shino had already left. Naruto felt a little tired, as always after a day of hard training…but he also felt relieved and happy. It had to be the food… and Shino’s company.

-----------------------

Yu-Gi-Oh!, The Emerald and the Ruby, Yami no Yuugi/Otogi Ryuuji

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 15:45:40 GMT

Title: The Emerald and the Ruby
Pairing/Character: Yami no Yuugi/ Otogi Ryuuji
Rating: G
Summary: Ever since Otogi saw past the superficiality in his life, he’s focused on the one and only person that keeps him stable.
Author’s note: for pleasureblossom’s birthday and very, very belated Christmas request. Happy birthday, dear! I know this is quite different from what we used to roleplay, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ^__^

-------------------

“Otogi-kuuu~uun! Wait up, please, Otogi-kun?”

He heaved a very soft sigh and his fingers clenched a little. He forced himself to relax - after all, it wasn’t the young girl’s fault that he was feeling slightly anxious. He wanted to go home and not to be held up for another thirty minutes; he was tight on his schedule as it was.

Still, he turned around with his trademark brilliant smile on his face, his eyes shining with exuberance as he greeted the girl. He took great pride into memorizing each and every name of his ‘fangirls’; it wasn’t their fault that he was their object of affection. He was born with good looks, and he knew how to cultivate them. He had reveled into the attention bestowed upon him, and he had enjoyed the jealous looks he’d been given. It wasn’t fair to deny all that, it wasn’t fair to deny this girl the attention she was so desperately craving.

“Tomoya-chan,” he said, her name popped up just like that. Bless his good memory! “How have you been?”

As always, she was flattered that he knew her name - Otogi Ryuuji, the greatest and most wonderful object ever lusted after at Domino High, knew her name! Her cheeks flushed and she was momentary out of words, stuttering as she tried to come up with an answer.

“I-I’ve been well, Otogi-kun,” she finally blurted out, batting her eyes at him. Otogi wished that girls would stop doing that. It didn’t make them look cute; if anything, it made them look silly. The overabundance of mascara on her lashes didn’t help matters and made him cringe; she had used so much that everything blotted and stuck together, rendering her fresh, young face into something less-than-appealing, but Otogi was too much of a gentleman to let it show. Besides, it wasn’t all about outside beauty. The girl was nervous because he talked to her, recognized her, acknowledged her; she might be insecure, she might be a little wallflower who finally started to bloom, stepping out of her shell.

He was still smiling at her. It hadn’t been that long ago since he had judged a girl only by her appearances. He judged himself on his appearance too, and his popularity at this school, and the sales of his Dungeon Dice Monsters game. He’d never felt insecure his entire life, dealing with CEO’s at the age of fifteen, running half around the world to save it from its impending doom along with a group of friends. It certainly had changed his priorities, or so he found out when he had returned from America. The Kaiba Corp. Grand Prix had been won by, who else, Mutou Yuugi, his friend.

Ever since Otogi had unpacked his suitcase and resumed going to school, just like the entire group of friends, things had changed. He wondered why he had felt annoyance at his fangirls surrounding him, instead of the usual amusement. He liked being the center of attention, but it had ebbed away for some reason; and he only had to look at Yuugi to know why. Yuugi had never been swamped by fangirls (only fanboys who wanted to know how to strengthen their deck and pry some strategy tips from him) and he’d always been modest and friendly. From the outside, no one could see what burden he was carrying; the golden Sennen Puzzle was visible all right, but not..what it really contained.

Otogi knew what it contained, he very well knew…because the Spirit dwelling into it, a Nameless Pharaoh, had stolen his heart. The irony was killing him, because Otogi didn’t even know the other that well, and he was sharing his body with Yuugi - two minds in one body, and everything that the Pharaoh did, was done to Yuugi’s body. It had felt incredibly awkward, the first time they had kissed - behind a storage shed for athletics equipment. Otogi didn’t know anymore who started it, but all that he remembered was that it felt good, it felt great, and he wanted more.

The girl was talking to him, something about a date. He hated to crush her hopes, but then again, he’d never been too close with his fangirls to begin with. Despite being surrounded by them, Otogi had barely taken anyone out for drinks or dinner, or any other…activity. He knew why every male student at Domino High was jealous at him, but they didn’t know - or realize - that Otogi Ryuuji wasn’t using his fangirls. Moreso, he wasn’t even the touchy-feely type of person many others kept him for. When he had massively crushed on Jounouchi’s sister, sweet little Shizuka, he hadn’t hugged her unless she gave him permission to. Which she never hadn’t…and Shizuka had faded from his eyesight, from his interests, when he noticed the Pharaoh.

He was so different from Yuugi that it was almost ironic…again. The Pharaoh stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, he didn’t slouch, and his eyes were harsh and cold, compared to Yuugi’s. Otogi had seen from up close how those eyes would warm up, would darken, clouded with passion…and it felt good and wrong at the same time, because it was Yuugi’s body entangled with his, but it was the Pharaoh who was the dominant personality, and who whispered into his ear.

“I’m very sorry, Tomoya-chan,” he said as he took the girl’s hand in his, pressing a butterfly light kiss on her skin. “I have to go to a business meeting.”

His own gameshop, the Black Crown, proved to be his rescue once again. Everybody knew that it was his business, and how much he worked on it. It has always been the perfect excuse, and not far beside the truth. It’s actually the one and only excuse that the fangirls seemed to understand; business before pleasure. He could see the tears in her eyes well, but she didn’t start bawling. Otogi made a mental note of the girl; she was brave enough to approach him, and brave enough to carry her loss like a real woman.

After they’ve wished each other goodbye, Otogi picked up the pace. He was running late, and he didn’t like to keep people waiting. He especially didn’t like to keep the Pharaoh waiting, even though he was probably still slumbering in Yuugi’s mind. Their school schedules weren’t the same, and Yuugi already was at home by now. Darn! Hurriedly, he moved past bystanders, working his way through the crowd until he reached the Kame GameShop, with its owner, as usual, sweeping the pavement just in front of it.

“Good afternoon, Mutou-san,” he greeted the elderly man as his hand reached for the door handle.

“Otogi,” he said, acknowledging him. Their short competetive tiff had been buried, and there were more than enough customers for both their stores. Sometimes Otogi wondered if the man simply knew. There was something in his voice, a little amusement, something quirky perhaps, that made Otogi feel that the other…was onto something. He couldn’t really pinpoint it, and the suave, smooth Otogi Ryuuji didn’t dare to ask the man out-right.

“He’s upstairs,” Mutou Sugoroku said, sweeping with the broom. “I can’t wait until Dungeon Dice Monsters 2.0 is released.”

Just like the girl earlier had done in front of him, Otogi’s cheeks flushed a scarlet red and he muttered something under his breath as he pushed the door open. The store was empty, and he knew his way by heart; go through the store, to the right, go up the stairs, to the left, through the kitchen (whoever had designed this house, had been firmly drinking) and then up another flight of stairs, as Yuugi had his room in the attic.

The door was open. Otogi huffed a little from climbing the stairs, and he lifted up his hand, gently knocking a few times.

“Otogi-kun,” Yuugi said, enthusiastically as he turned around. He was sitting behind the desk, with lots of papers in front of him - strange, because Yuugi never was diligent about his homework. Otogi put his backpack down and started to smile. It was a bunch of game manuals, not regular homework.

“So, have you finished all your assignments?”

Yuugi made a comical face and pointed to the closed books on the edge of his desk.

“I still have to start! I was browsing these manuals and I was thinking about the game, how we could rotate the board and to adjust the ruling…”

Otogi listened to the other’s calm babble, his heart wrenching. Vain as he might have been, he was always genuinely concerned for his friends, and he doesn’t like lies or excuses. He asked Yuugi for help to develop a new and improved version of his game, and it has always bothered him that it was just a cover, not to see Yuugi, but…

“I’m sorry, Yuugi-kun,” Otogi said and in a split second he saw the face of his friend scrunched up in a weird expression of surprise and not-understanding. He reached for the Puzzle the same moment the other switched personality - without the Puzzle, it’s not easy to switch back.

“We must tell him someday,” Otogi murmured as he put the heavy object on the desk. How could anyone of them stand lunging this weight around? The Pharaoh had already risen, his hand on Otogi’s shoulder. He immediately answered to the hug, wrapping his arms around the other’s body. He had taught the Pharaoh how to hug properly, the other even less of a touchy-feely person than he was. Reveling into the embrace, his lips have already found an exposed piece of skin he can attach himself to.

“Someday,” the Pharaoh answered him without a second of hesitation, his voice lower than Yuugi’s, and at the moment it was the most melodious sound he ever heard.

They ended up on the bed, seconds after their hug. Someday…someday he would leave, and Yuugi would be the only one left. Someday they would tell him, someday they would be together without having to fool their friends. Otogi sunk his hands into the other’s hair, gently caressing and stroking. The Pharaoh looked back at him, crimson red eyes half-lidded, long dark lashes all natural and beautifully framing. There wasn’t a flaw Otogi could think of; all he saw was perfect beauty in front of him. Someone real. Someone without superficial manners, or who prevailed popularity above integrity.

“We have to,” Otogi insisted, but his own emerald eyes closed already, lips parted in pleasure. The top buttons of his blouse - lousy school uniform - were unfastened by long, slender fingers.

“We have to,” the Pharaoh repeated, but his hand reached for Otogi’s neck to pull him closer, engaging him into another kiss.

It would have to wait for another day.

-------------------------------

Naruto, Blind, Hyuga Neji x Uchiha Sasuke

Sun, 01 Mar 2009 20:31:57 GMT

Title: Blind
Fandom: Naruto (Shippuuden)
Pairings: Hyuga Neji x Uchiha Sasuke
Genre: some angst, some clothes coming off…
Rating: M
Summary: Sometimes you need someone else to remove the shells from your eyes.
Author’s note: for creepy_crawly's request at fic_on_demand. Spoilers for chapt. 401!

---------------------------------------

The forest was deadly calm, a perfect picture of harmonious, lush nature in total balance with the local wildlife. A deer jumped over the shrubs and a few birds chirped and flew away; a squirrel made its way over to a higher branch. The sun wasn’t too hot, the sky was blue, and the road was easy accesible; no mud, just plain sand and dust.

It was so perfect that it made him sick. Sick to his stomach, to see no flaws, no blood, no corpses, no destruction. Green leaves everywhere, vibrant colors and warmth - that strange, kind warmth, a sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort, that had eluded him for so long. It was still eluding him, because warmth wasn’t something that Uchiha Sasuke connected to himself; he’d been cold ever since that dark night that he had left Konoha.

He was wandering around aimlessly. It had been days - ages - since he had left everything behind…again. This time, he didn’t leave Konoha. When he left the village, he thought he had broken his bonds, had cut out every feeling and emotion, had ended his youth. Now that his brother was dead, he felt like he had left everything. Just everything. He was wandering around, but he was hollow. His legs were moving, his feet were moving, but he wasn’t aware of it. Hollow. A shell. A vessel.

Itachi. Had he not been satisfied being a vessel? A shinobi was the tool of the village he or she grew up in. He’d been a shinobi, he’d been a vessel. The instrument of revenge, from his early years on. He hadn’t known any better. Itachi had been the one haunting him, hunting him…and now that it was over, there was nothing left but the vessel. For so long, he had focused on everything his brother had told him to do: hate him, detest him, and survive in any way possible. He’d even been ready to give his body to Orochimaru, if only to defeat Itachi - and now that his brother was dead, there was nothing but perfect beauty around him, a sunny sky and pretty flowers, while all he was seeing and wanted to see was death and destruction.

Silly brother. An instrument his entire life, and now that he was free, he didn’t know what to do. Free? If he knew how to do it, he would’ve snorted and laughed out loud. But nothing rose up in his throat but some bile, and he swallowed heavily. A vessel, not Uchiha Sasuke. He hadn’t even made one decision of his own. Everything that had brought him to this place, at this very moment, had been fabricated, orchestrated by people and circumstances he could never influence. Even his decision to leave Konoha had been planned; all in the name of revenge.

He hadn’t seen through Itachi’s illusion. He hadn’t seen through the great scheme of all things. All he had seen, was his brother’s smile. His body responded to that image with a sudden urge of pain; it was almost crippling, and he clenched his teeth. Itachi was dead. He had died with a smile on his face, happy to see his younger brother for the last time. Happy? Happy?

Did he truly see the birds and the trees for the first time? Why was nature so calm and peaceful, when his heart was thundering, screaming? Why was he feeling pain, why was he seeing blood and destruction, when he was surrounded by a calm breeze, whispering nothing but the modest tune of a bird singing? I am an avenger. But what am I if I have nothing left to avenge?

His hand swiftly dropped to his lower back, as if he wanted to casually smoothe the wrinkles out of his shirt.

“You already know that I’m here.”

His fingers wrapped themselves around the handle of his chokutō, ready to run a chidori along it, if necessary. He recognizes that voice, calm, low and with little intonation. A voice from a long, long time ago. A voice from his youth.

The silly thing is, that his first thought had been on Naruto. Extremely silly, because Naruto would’ve already jumped at him, loud and obnoxious, and with at least three kage bunshins to get the message across. He picked this presence up fairly quickly, as if the other didn’t bother to hide it - but bothered enough to not surprise him out of the blue.

“You wanted to be seen,” his voice calm and collected, “you wanted to be noticed.”

“Correct.”

A presence behind him, but Sasuke didn’t turn around immediately. The handle of his chokutō already made that typical ‘click’ sound; it’s loose, and he can wield it faster than the other can blink. Sharingan is the only way to see through one another’s attack. The voice sounded fairly familiar, but not familiar enough to tie a name or a person to it - his foot stepped aside, as he’s turning around, it’s just a matter of seconds…

…but his body stopped before his mind can give its final order to attack. The young man in the middle of the road is holding his hands up in a way that he would’ve recognized from a million miles away. The technique of the Gentle Fist.

“Hyuga.” Sasuke barely moved his own hand, but his fingers are slowly relaxing into his grip. Leaving Konoha meant that he was automatically branded with the rank of missing-nin; any jounin would feel compelled to bring him back.

“Neji,” the other said, without any hint of humor. “I assumed you’d forget my first name, Uchiha Sasuke.”

He brusquely shrugged. His mind provided him with the appropriate memories, as far as he had them of this Hyuga Neji: a prodigy, despite being born into one of the clan’s lower houses, wielder of the Byakugan. He looked different than he remembered him, obviously; more than three years have passed.

“So what?”

Silence. Nothing but the birds chirping again. Strange that he noticed the birds chirping and Neji’s presence, but not…how his situation has changed. Without Orochimaru, without his brother…he has just become a missing-nin, interesting for potential retrieval and a bounty. If this Neji has come here to take him back…

“You know this road leads to Konoha… eventually.” Neji said, not changing his stance, but not showing open aggression either. He was ready to defend himself, just like Sasuske was ready to attack him. With the same distinctive click, Sasuke pushed the chokutō back and showed his free hand. Hyuga Neji is nothing to him. Just someone from his old village. No match for his Sharingan, let alone for his chidori.

“I know,” he snarled. “What are you, a talking map?”

Neji seemed to be amused and dropped his stance after the words leave Sasuke’s mouth. He even showed a hint of a smile.

“After all these years, you still haven’t learned any manners.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“To me, not much. To others, it might.”

Silence again, and this time Sasuke realized he has bitten his lip for no apparent reason. With an annoyed, yet soft grunt he licked his lips, washing the small droplet of blood away. It couldn’t be that any mention of Konoha, of his former ‘friends’, could still make him emotional. Sentimental. Foolish. He’s seen Naruto, Sakura and a few others fairly recently - hasn’t he? When they discovered the hideout, and that pale, white kid blocked correctly his attack. How can I become Hokage when I can’t even help my own friend? Wasn’t that what Naruto had said? It was something he would say…

“I’m not interested.”

“Of course you aren’t.” His matter-of-fact voice is grating on Sasuke’s nerves. Who does this Neji think he is, anyway? He’s standing tall, confident, a young man in the prime of his life, disposing over powers and skills that he knows to use well. He’s different, yes, very different…not a kid anymore, his clothes stressing his physical build. Jounin-level, without a doubt.

“I don’t belong there anymore. Why should I return?”

“People would love for you to return.” Another fact.

Naruto. Sakura. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

“They’re strong.” Neji tilted his head while he was speaking, long, chestnut strands of hair slipping over his shoulder. “They’ll find you on their own.”

“I don’t want them to find me.”

“Why are you heading this way, then?”

“I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“True. It’s getting dark soon, and we better get some fire going.”

“We?”

“Yes,” Neji said. “Can you use one of your fire jutsus? That would save us a lot of work.”

If he’s impressed by Sasuke’s scowl, Neji didn’t show it and disappeared as soon as he had spoken, to search for wood and kindling. Tempted to move along on his own, Sasuke turned around again, only to realize that yes, it was getting dark soon, and he had no shelter, food or water on him. He’d only been wandering without really knowing where to go to. His feet had brought him on this doomed way to his hometown…and now a jounin was on his tail, suggesting they should set up camp together. What was the other’s purpose?

He didn’t know why, but Sasuke sat down on a large rock and uses his technique to start a fire as soon as Neji returned. Despite the earlier warm sun, the falling evening cooled the temperature rapidly, and his body temperature already had been low. Before he realized it, his hands are above the fire, absorbing the warmth.

Neji unhooked his backpack, opened it and pulled out a loaf of bread, and to Sasuke’s greater surprise, he also had fish with him to grill over the open fire. He wanted to ask what the other was sharing with him, what he was trying to do or to accomplish with it…but he knew his body needed the food, the energy, and he remained silent about it. Silence, even the birds had stopped singing.

“I can’t tell you that I know what you’re going through,” Neji’s voice still sounded calm and collected. “I know similar feelings, though. After the chuunin exam, when I had lost to Naruto, I felt completely…well, lost. I didn’t know what to do. The whole house had seen how I was defeated, and I feared I would always be caged by the traditions, by the curse of being born into a lower branch.”

“Are you still lost?” Sasuke asked, his eyes darting over Neji. He didn’t really want to know the other’s background and sob story. He didn’t care for Hyuga Neji. Why would he? Why would I try to survive now that I’m nothing but an empty vessel and vengeance is…gone? Should I live on to get more revenge, or should I live on to be more than just a vessel?

As Neji offered him some of the fish, he ate a small piece of it; it tasted bland, but it was hot and filling. Another slice of the bread completed the meal. He wished for something to drink, and as if Neji read his mind, a water bottle came his way.

“…but Naruto taught me that I could take my fate in my own hands, instead of allowing it to happen to me.” He watched Sasuke sipping the water. “Fate is something that you make yourself, instead of fate making something for you. Life is not a pre-destined road.”

“Heh,” Sasuke wiped his mouth cruelly with the back of his hand, “that’s exactly the kind of crap he would say, yes.”

“You took your fate in your own hand, too.”

“I left the village to become stronger and then killed my brother. How much of that was my own choice?”

Taking the water bottle back, Neji sipped the cool liquid before answering.

“It was still your own choice. You might’ve been driven by the circumstances, but it was still your own choice.”

“I don’t believe it.” Sasuke wasn’t in the mood to discuss or philosophy matters with Neji, someone he hadn’t seen in years and even before that, barely interacted with. What did his words matter, what was it to him? Everything about him radiated some kind of…acceptance, a calmness without defeat, without failure. Even his movements were calm and controlled, an ease and a comfort enveloping every gesture.

“What road to take?” Neji asked. He moved the backpack next to his feet. “What fate to take in your own hands, what choice to make?”

His long hair, hold loosely together with that small tie at the back, seemed to have come undone. His pupil-less eyes have been focusing on him the entire time. Sasuke didn’t feel any fear or unease, and his hands haven’t touched the chokutō since ‘dinner’ started.

“Look at us,” his voice calm, soothing, “Byakugan, Sharingan. The strongest eye techniques in the world, and all they have done was to blind us.”

It didn’t matter who started. It didn’t matter who closed the distance between them, fire, fish and water forgotten. He thought it was Neji, but he was the first one to part his lips invitingly. Was he? Wasn’t he…talking? Wasn’t he eating? No, he had finished his bread, and why would he care? A hand on his neck, warm fingers. His Mangekyo Sharingan suddenly flared, a defense, a wall, and he pushed at Neji, who pushed immediately back. He was strong, but not as strong as Sasuke. Chidori…

“No.” Neji put his hand on his, uncaring if he’s already building up the chakra for his technique or not. A sting in his muscles, a tight grip on his wrist…another pain, another ache, but it wasn’t Itachi poking him, his fingertips sharply dabbing his forehead, it was Neji who slid him off the large rock he’s been sitting on and he landed on the forest floor.

“Don’t do this,” Sasuke warned him, but his voice lacked anger or vehemence. Blind. Future. Vessel. Jounin. Neji.

“Are you afraid?” Neji asked, but he stopped moving.

“I did everything I could to survive,” Sasuke barked, and now the anger flowed back into his words, “I’m not afraid of anything!”

Despite the anger, the last word is smothered. Lips on lips, and then a sharp bite. Sasuke tasted blood again, his tongue once more running past his lip, and Neji was fast, so fast that there wasn’t any blood to lick off, the other claiming his lips again and again. Hands, long and slender fingers touching his chest, his wide open shirt provided easily access. In a reaction, he lifted up his legs as to kick Neji off of him, but another hand pushed his legs down, at the knees, exposing the chokutō at the hip.

“Get off of me.”

“What happened to you?”

“I wasn’t on my way to Konoha.”

Words, only words. His body was doing all the talking, showing the signs of excitement, a warmth spreading through him that he had never felt before. Living underground, training with Orochimaru, those fucking cold damn snakes…

“Fucking cold,” Neji repeated, with that same, almost infuriating calm and amused tone in his voice. Sasuke knew he talked out loud and frowned and grimaced at the same time. There were no words of condemnation or judgment. No laughs, no pity, no tears, no compassion. The evening had fallen, the camp fire was their only source of light… but were they not blind anyway? Sasuke didn’t know what Neji is blind to, but Neji apparently knew what he is blind to. His brother? Naruto? The village?

He didn’t fight back when Neji undressed him. His eyes didn’t show the Mangekyo Sharingan when Neji undressed himself. Long, chestnut strands of hair, the warmth of the fire, the blind eyes open, no more powers, no more jutsus, no more… what were they seeing? What were they doing? Were they really seeing now? What else was there to see but two naked bodies?

“I don’t want to be blind,” he murmured, seconds before Neji ultimately claimed his body. There were no screams, no cries of pain. No tears, no dramatics. Kisses, touches, lacking the gentleness of experienced lovers, but who would made love to a vessel? He was just a body, consumed by Orochimaru if things had gone differently…but there had been his brother, again, and there had been fate, again, and now there had been Hyuga Neji, who covered his body with that impractical long hair of his, showing a few scars, who told him he was blind and that there were other roads to take.

Maybe there were. Maybe there weren’t. It was his road to take, though. As he was lying on the forest floor, his lips parted and his body slightly sweaty, he couldn’t care less at the moment. Maybe he was an avenger, and would he be a vessel for the rest of his life. Maybe he had been living in a dream, caught in another illusion, and he would wake up back at his family compound in Konoha.

He arched his back, eyes closed and head tilted, he had no idea why he surrendered to Neji. His clothes were just a few inches away, his weapon too…he just had to open his eyes if he wanted to trap the other in a nightmare of his own. Why…why would the other make him feel something that his supposedly best friends couldn’t make him feel? Regret…sadness…a little bit of hope? The slightest bit of hope, stirring in his heart. How… how?

Arms around him, it was Neji who almost lifted him up from the floor, bodies squirming and writhing, rocking and bucking, legs entangled and warmth, so much warmth flooding him, possessing him, until it was too hot to hold onto and finally there was a scream, torn from his throat as he surprised himself. A twisted scream of pleasure and agony as his body trembled violently, his legs cramping, chest heaving for the last bit of breath he’s fighting to draw.

Neji didn’t move away. His hand caressed Sasuke’s cheek, when he opened his eyes again. Silence, silence around them but his own, harsh breathing. Neji’s lips were slightly parted in an almost-knowing smile. His other hand was firmly lodged in Sasuke’s hair, stroking the strands.

Dark. Evening. The fire hadn’t gone out, surprisingly, and he moved his head towards it, as if he could absorb the warmth from here. It felt better than he had imagined. The warmth. The physical warmth. The small flicker of warmth in his heart. Bringing up his hand, he mimicked Neji’s gesture and tangled his fingers in the long strands. He had never even touched Sakura’s hair, or any other girl’s hair, for that matter. His first ‘kiss’ had been with Naruto… sort of. How could he have forgotten?

“There’s a long road ahead of us.” Neji spoke, leaning into Sasuke, focusing on his eyes. No Sharingan. “A long and difficult road.”

“I know,” was all that he said. He felt tired, relieved and burdened all into one.

“Go to sleep.” It’s not a command, but rather a matter-of-fact suggestion. The night had fallen, they couldn’t have travelled anymore even if they wanted to.

He closed his eyes. Neji made no movement to get off of him, and he felt the other’s lips on his skin again. His hand tugged at his hair, almost teasingly. Go to sleep.

Tomorrow he would wake up to a bright day.

------------------------------------------

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Cry me A River, Kaiba Seto/Yami no Yuugi

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 20:45:45 GMT

Title: Cry me A River
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters: Kaiba Seto, Yami no Yuugi
Genre: PWP with some slight introspective-ness
Rating: M for adult situations
Summary: Confronted with his nemesis, Kaiba Seto learns that there are more sides to victory, and that even a hollow victory can be quite confusing.
Author's Notes: very, very belated birthday gift fic written for gaijin_chan, who challenged me to see if I could pull off Yami/Seto, my not so favorite pairing. ^^

Key: -------------- = scene change

---------------------------------

There isn’t a single thing that Kaiba Seto doesn’t hate when it comes to Mutou Yuugi. He refrains from calling it ‘hate’, because he knows very well what hate can do to a person, and how it can consume one to the very core. Besides, the CEO of KaibaCorp. is above something as petty as ‘hate’. He would rather like to call it ‘dislike’, or ‘disapproval of’.

To him, Mutou Yuugi is just a kid. A twerp. A midget. A treehugging, sappy, naïve, too trusting, too bouncy, too perky, prattling-on-about-friends-and-love-and-happiness midget. There, he can’t think of a more adequate description. It annoys him to no end that of all people, exactly this treehugging, sappy, naïve etc. midget has won the Kaiba Corp. Grand Prix tournament.

This lunch was a bad idea from the start, Kaiba figures, as he’s seated opposite of the very same twerp. Mokuba had suggested this get-together as a friendly gesture to the winner and the top-ten finalists, and as an incentive towards the sponsors. After all, Kaiba Corp. has a public image to uphold, and Kaiba knows very well that it suffers from his aloof, stoic attitude towards press and people in general. It’s not my fault that everyone is just plain stupid and a waste of my time.

Sharing a table with the top-ten finalists meant that a certain Jounouchi Katsuya also partakes in the lunch, and Kaiba almost rips his own napkin apart. Great, this was going to be an even greater mess than he could possibly imagine. Not only is Jounouchi one of the most ill-mannered, bad-tempered people he’d ever met, he also eats a whole army’s worth. One could file for bankruptcy when inviting Jounouchi over for lunch.

So why does it surprise Kaiba so much that the bonkotsu duelist is barely gaining his attention even though he can hear him all the way from here? Why does it surprise him that he is keeping his eyes on the twerp across of him, who is eating his shrimp cocktail with small, almost delicate bites? It takes him less than two seconds to realize it’s not Yuugi himself, but his Other.

--------------------

There isn’t a single thing that Kaiba Seto doesn’t hate….dislike when it comes to Mou Hitori no Yuugi. He even thinks of him in capital letters, which is another annoyance in itself. Despite their significant height difference, he feels like the Other Yuugi towers over him, and Kaiba Seto doesn’t like anyone towering over him, and certainly not the magically-strange-weird-other-half-of-a-soul-spitting-mirror-image of Mutou Yuugi. His friends simply call him Yuugi, as if there’s no distinction between the two of them. Ridiculous. It’s not the extra golden bang in his hair or the narrow shape of his eyes. Not that Kaiba ever paid attention to that. No, it was all in the other things - his stance, his arrogance, his godforsaken luck in every duel, his overblown ego that matched twice the Duel Tower.

A Pharaoh in his past, and a soul without a body in the present, or so the ‘legend’ goes, not that Kaiba cares. He knows of the story, having heard of it a bazillion times before, be it from Yuugi himself or any of his friends, or even from his own brother, who apparently is quite impressed and on far-too-friendly terms with the twerp and his gang of jolly ranchers. Speaking of Mokuba, his brother sitting right next to him, talking to them as if he’s known them all of his life. Well, as Mokuba is still pretty young…Kaiba suppresses an annoyed grunt.

The lectures, the preaching, that heart of the card things…about his past, his present and his future as a Pharaoh, it all sounds like a lot of blah blah to Kaiba, even though he can’t deny something of it being true. He doesn’t want it to be true, of course. What the hell is he supposed to think of feel when being confronted with a stone slab in a museum, with strange texts and markings all over it? Everything about destiny and fate and all that crap irritates him, annoys him, and makes him think of Ishizu Isthar who droned on and on about it. Thank God that she and her whacked-out family didn’t participate this time.

But still, this Other Yuugi has the God cards, and has won from them fair and square. There’s nothing that Kaiba can do about it. He notices his fork slightly trembling and he puts it down, refraining from staring at his hand. He had felt the power, the unmistakable overwhelming power of a God, its card that was held once by that very same hand. It hasn’t been that long since he lost Obelisk the Tormentor to Other Yuugi -damn those capitals- but he recalls very well his defeat, recalls very well that moment when he handed the card to the other.

He dislikes it how Other Yuugi is eating. As if he is God, he brings the fork carefully to his mouth and wraps his lips around the utensil as if he’s too far elevated above everyone else to just goddamn eat the food. Kaiba knows it’s the best - he selected the caterer himself, and no caterer in the whole wide world would even dare to think of serving Kaiba Seto nothing but the best. He wonders for a brief moment if the guests even realize what kind of money they are eating away here; probably a year’s income worth for the average Joe Schmoe.

Kaiba tramples his ponderings on why it is Other Yuugi instead of the twerp himself, because he usually disappears after winning a duel. What has made the Other come out, and why is he even bothering to think about it? He should be mingling with the guests, but Kaiba doesn’t mingle; he doesn’t care about PR, or what other people think of him. He’s not interested in becoming friends or best pals with anyone. He’s always searching for someone who forces him to his limits, someone who pushes him close to the edge. He needs the challenge, the pressure, the deadline… and he’s found it in a smaller, weaker, punier person who doesn’t even have his own body.

After lunch is finished, Kaiba realizes he’s been staring at Other Yuugi the entire time, barely tasting the wonderful food himself. It annoys him and he throws down his napkin, but before he can gruffly announce that everyone has to get the hell off of his property, Mokuba cheerfully tells the guests that it’s time to go, thanking everyone for their presence. Maybe he should leave everything PR to his younger brother, that would save him some major trouble. Kaiba gets up from his chair, simultaneously with Other Yuugi; the way he moves is flawless, the giant golden Puzzle dangling from its chain, and it doesn’t bother him at all. Smooth. Flawless. And Kaiba Seto is not thinking ‘beautiful’ when it comes to Other Yuugi, not at all.

----------------------

There’s almost no one left in the wardrobe, safe for the few slowpokes who can’t find their coats or are still chattering away about the tournament and its results, the weather outside and the lunch they had. Ignorant fools. Kaiba scans the room, noticing Other Yuugi and Jounouchi, the bonkotsu of course struggling with his jacket. He’s chattering away and he’s perfectly at ease, while Other Yuugi watches him, amusedly, the dark eyebrows slightly arched, a faint curl of a smile ghosting around his lips.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It’s out of his mouth before he realizes it. Other Yuugi looks up, genuine surprise in his eyes.

“Kaiba? I’m going home.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Jounouchi is quick to defend his friend. In a weird way, it makes him jealous - to know that there’s someone willing to fight for you is entirely different from having to do all the fighting yourself. The last thing he yearns for is a ‘friend’, but he can’t deny that friendship is one of the strengths of human interaction - he doesn’t want to waste his time over it, but in his rational mind Kaiba knows that always being alone isn’t the ‘right’ way. If there ever was a destiny for him, it’s up to Kaiba to determine it, not destiny itself. It’s the way he has lived until now, lived by his own rules, his own values and morals, and no happy-go-lucky crowd could ever change that.

“Can it, Kaiba,” Jounouchi speaks up, stepping literally between him and Other Yuugi. “Go pick on someone else. This is the winner’s area, you know.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Kaiba sneers. He’s not willing to deal with Jounouchi, who looks ready to actually attack him physically - but it’s Other Yuugi who calms him down.

“It is fine, Jounouchi-kun,” he says, his voice an infuriating epitome of composed demeanor. “why don’t you go ahead and meet up with the others? I’ll be there soon.”

Kaiba doesn’t even look at Jounouchi’s retreating back, his eyes still focused on Other Yuugi.

“Listen to yourself,” he hisses.

“What do you mean?” Other Yuugi looks at him, head slightly tilted, as if he really doesn’t know what Kaiba is referring to. He sees the smirk on his face, the outer sign of his confidence. He wants to wipe off that smirk, but for now he can only vent his anger and annoyance.

“You drive me crazy.”

“I do no such thing,” Other Yuugi protests, even making a hand gesture, dismissing the comment. “If this is about the tournament, Kaiba, you saw me…”

“Winning,” he clips every word, “yes, you won. As you have won everything you participated it. I know what you are. I don’t know how to stop you yet, but one day, Yuugi, you’ll lose your title and I’ll be the victorious one.”

If calling him directly with his ‘aibou’s’ name is distracting him, Other Yuugi doesn’t show it. He narrows his eyes just a little, and the smirk wavers, if only for a second. Not having a name must bother him, no matter how much he pretends to take pride into sharing Yuugi’s name.

“As soon as you accept your past and the evident connection between us, you would not feel so bad about it,” he says. “You have seen it yourself during our duel, Battle City…”

“Spare me your mumbo-jumbo about our past,” Kaiba shoots back

“It is not my fault that you have difficulties dealing with…”

“Well, cry me a river,” Kaiba interrupts brusquely. Other Yuugi falls silent with a quizzical look on his face, probably pondering the meaning of the expression, and then his lips part to give another comment… not for long.

Kaiba has closed the distance between them while talking, and he presses his lips on his. It serves the other to shut up, to drown out his voice and his jabbering about pasts and Pharaohs. Oh, it shuts him up all right, even better than Kaiba thought it would be. Something tugs at his shirt, he can feel the fabric tighten - it’s Other Yuugi, the Pharaoh, who has tigthened his fists in the expensive garment. Not to pull him closer, but in an effort to push him away.

It’s of no use, of course. He’s taller and stronger, and he wants him. He can’t win, but he can’t afford to lose either. It’s not about the cards or the duels anymore, it has become physical - and exactly why, is something Kaiba can’t tell. Not at the moment. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t want to know. Something strange is going on; is it indeed about their ‘evident connection’, or has he allowed too much talk about friendship and love to go to his head, to infiltrate his distant heart?

The fists in his shirt unclench and then tightens again, and he pulls away from the other.

“Kaiba, get your hands off of me.”

Unbelievable, Other Yuugi still sounds composed, yet indignant and commanding at the same time. Kaiba doesn’t take orders from him. His ice-blue eyes locks with the other’s red ones, meeting his gaze head-on, not about to step back.

“Hush,” he tells him as he pulls out his shirt from his pants, almost ripping the fabric. Other Yuugi depends on Yuugi for his clothes, and as always the boy has chosen to wear his school uniform - cheap, mass fabricated garments, easy to rip and tear, easy to remove. This eludes a fairly high-pitched protest, and this time he really hits him; laughable as the Other Yuugi doesn’t posess much physical strength. He tries to move away from Kaiba, who grabs the firm chain of the Puzzle and yanks at it. A choke, another gasp, and the expression on Other Yuugi’s face changes - a little bit of fear and finally, the first sign of insecurity, not knowing or not realising well enough Kaiba’s intentions - and he becomes more frantic, his hands all over Kaiba, pushing at him.

“Get away from me,” Other Yuugi hisses. “What has gotten into you, Kaiba? If this has something to do with the tournament…”

“Shut up about the tournament,” he yanks at the chain again. “This isn’t about losing or winning.” He’s lying of course, it has everything to do with winning or losing. He’s lost too many times, and it’s not only about the tournament. He’s lost more than just a card game, he’s fighting to not lose himself completely to the other. He doesn’t want to be mesmerized by him. He doesn’t want to be hypnotized by his eyes, doesn’t want to experience these feelings of need, of urge, to kiss him and to overpower him, to show him that he’s more than just Kaiba Seto….what is he doing? He doesn’t owe Other Yuugi anything!

Kaiba removes the Puzzle from him, pulling the Item over his head before the other can react, and dumps it unceremoniously on the floor. His speed catches the Other Yuugi off guard, and as soon as he moves to retrieve the Item, Kaiba dives on top of him, pressing him to the floor.

They roll on top of each other, over the floor, Kaiba hitting a coat rack somewhere, but he doesn’t care - this time he’s not going to lose. He’s going to get what he wants, like he always does. He rolls on top of Other Yuugi, forcing him to lie still, and his hands and fingers are everywhere, searching for places to touch him, places to hurt him, places to show him who’s the winner now. His rational mind is still analyzing what he’s doing, and mostly, what he’s doing wrong - he never shows this much vulnerability, this much anger, this much emotion…if this was a business deal, he would never be able to negotiate his way out of this.

Just like Other Yuugi can’t negotiate, his breathing fast and his lips moving, forming words, but Kaiba can’t hear him. His own shirt gets ripped, he can hear the fabric tear, and he doesn’t care. He tugs at Other Yuugi’s belt and he’s not talking, he’s grunting commands, and who is he commanding - Other Yuugi, or himself? Skin exposed, the heat of the moment, he hears noises and sounds, and he takes it in, revels in it, inhales it, lives off of it. He wants it, he wants it so bad and so hard and good and he doesn’t know if he’s the one screaming and yelling in utmost excitement and pleasure, as belt buckles are opened, hands are groping, and he takes what belongs to him.

Is Other Yuugi actually panting, or yelling or screaming? He can’t hear him. His lips are parted, his cheeks are flushed, and his crimson red eyes are dark. Kaiba can only see it because Other Yuugi has tilted his head, and his hands are around the Sennen Puzzle, cradling it to his chest. It has to hurt, the sharp corners of the Item pressing against his skin with Kaiba’s weight on top of him, but neither one of them seems to care. Only the moment of excitement, of pure raw pleasure is important and he revels in the heat, in the lust and the desire, like a caged animal finally breaking free.

Maybe physically overpowering him is a hollow, empty victory. It doesn’t give
him any title, or any respect, perhaps. Mutou Yuugi is a small kid, and his Other only looks taller because he stands up straight like a man, without the whole slouched shoulders attitude. Kaiba doesn’t care anymore, not even if it really doesn’t feel like a victory, he just wants to have him, to take him, to give him what he wants and what he wants…flesh against flesh, skin against skin. It’s hot and cold at the same time, and a wardrobe is hardly a romantic place, let alone private. The whole world could’ve overheard them, especially Other Yuugi who’s surprisingly loud when he cries out again. Heat, cold, dark, light, day, night, everything is happening at the same time and yet Kaiba feels like he’s outside of time. Just this moment, this one little moment when he feels victory in more ways than one, it seems… unimportant and futile, yet he can’t deny that it is important. He grabs his hair, fingers raking through multicolored strands and he tugs at them, eliciting anoher cry.

He knows pleasure and he knows pain, and the other knows it too. When it’s over, he leans with his full weight on Other Yuugi, regardless of the heavy golden Item he’s hunched over, and his hand is still in his hair. Their breathing is loud and ragged, yet the only sounds in the wardrobe. His body strangely hurts, as if collapsing after his release. His mind starts taking over again, pointing out what kind of PR it would be when he’s to be found on the floor of a wardrobe, with a very distinctive duelist under him, in a semi-nude state. Kaiba doesn’t feel shame or remorse; he knows that both has enjoyed it. His usual smirk doesn’t return, though, and he doesn’t know why. It was as good as it could ever be, but he hadn’t expected that onslaught of emotions. He doesn’t like emotions.

After another minute, Kaiba gets up and starts dressing himself again.

“Get up,” he tells Other Yuugi and expects him to obey. He does, sort of - no one wants to lie like that on a cold floor in a wardrobe. Kaiba doesn’t look at him as the other rearranges his clothes again, and finally, the rattling of the chain unmistakable, puts the Item back where its belongs. The other rubs over his chest, exactly where he held the Item before; he looks up at Kaiba, his face just as stern as before. In some way, Kaiba is expecting a scolding, a lecture about what has just happened. He’s prepared for it. He has just the right amount of words to say, the right amount of scathing remarks to counter-attack everything Other Yuugi will say.

The other walks out on him.

He leaves the wardrobe, only to stand still in the door opening. Kaiba turns towards him. Has something changed about the other? Is his posture different, the look on his face, the glare of his eyes? For some reasons, he swallows. He’s Kaiba Seto, and a Kaiba is never nervous.

“I cry you a river,” he finally says.

“What?”

“I cry you your river,” Other Yuugi says, even if there’s no pity or sadness or real compassion on his face. “Because obviously, you cannot.”

He’s gone before Kaiba can use any of his remarks, any of the comments his quick mind has already prepared. With another few steps, he’s at the door, but Other Yuugi somehow has moved faster than he anticipated, as he already sees him going down the stairs outside, walking towards his group of friends. He can hear Jounouchi enthusiastically calling “What took you so long?” and Honda pats him on the back. Other Yuugi doesn’t look back. Not even once.

Kaiba grits his teeth. He knows why the victory feels so empty. The other has granted him this victory, even if he couldn’t match him physically; by yielding to him, Other Yuugi took any reason to fight out of his hands. It doesn’t matter that his body is vividly recalling the experience, and actually yearning for more…it doesn’t matter at all. He’ll have to wait for another chance, for another opportunity for victory.

--------------------------------

There isn’t a single thing that Kaiba Seto doesn’t like when it comes to Pharaoh Atemu. He refrains from calling it ‘like’ though, as Kaiba Seto doesn’t do ‘liking’. He doesn’t have time to like anyone else, and certainly not someone like Other Yuugi, who has finally found and reclaimed his name. Atemu. This last duel is the end of their ‘dark RPG adventure’, and there will be an end to everything that has brought them together. Kaiba doesn’t like it when he has to admit something either, and that is that his life has been tangled with the life of the twerp and his Other, more intensely than anything else. More intense than the revenge on his ‘father’. More intense than his own struggles.

He has faced his past, and now he only wants to face his future. His own future, not a pre-set, determined one. He knows the power and weakness of friendship, of human interaction, of his own body. It still brings a smirk to his face knowing that he had the very same Pharaoh under him. Has he ever told Yuugi? Apparently not, as Yuugi has never behaved himself differently towards Kaiba. Not that he cares.

The three God cards are out, and as usual, he’s impressed with their power. Somehow, the impression fades after a while; it’s not their power he’s after. It’s crazy, compared to a few months ago when he had still wielded Obelisk in the Battle City finals. What has changed him so much that he’s not searching after implausible power or unbelievable solutions anymore? Has he calmed down? Has he lost himself after all? No, he has still won. He’s still Kaiba Seto, and he’s amazed when the twerp Yuugi wins, defeating not only all three of the Gods, but also the Pharaoh’s most loyal servant, the Dark Magician.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t say goodbye. He just watches, together with Mokuba. His victory is leaving him. His body once belonged to him, yielding it to him when the urge and need was more important than his own journey. A victory ruling from over the grave, as the souls of the dead don’t belong in the world of the living. It’s not Yuugi who surrendered to him. It’s Other Yuugi, the Pharaoh, and he walks out on him again.

Finally Kaiba realizes there’s a little bit of hate left in him. Because there’s nothing that Kaiba Seto hates more than seeing him leave.

---------------------

Yu-Gi-Oh!, ...and God shuffled his Feet, Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 16:12:59 GMT

Title:…and God shuffled his Feet
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairing: Bakura Ryou/ Yami Bakura
Genre: angst, mind control, dominance
Word count: 2.141
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Just as he thought the voice in his head had left him, it comes back to him in a way that is both comforting and terrifying.
Author’s note: for aramis_chan’s request at fic_on_demand's Valentine’s day event.

-----------------

“Can’t you leave me alone?”

Run run run you weak little bastard

“Can’t you just leave ME?”

Don’t fall just run run run you puny excuse for a human

“Can’t you just LEAVE ME?”

One foot in front of the other step step step run run run you worthless Host?

His knee hits the floor, the fabric of his jeans tearing from the impact. He doesn’t feel the pain. Get up get up get up! He’s up and running again. He doesn’t see. He knows he can’t fight it, yet he’s trying to resist, trying to withstand the urge and the adrenaline his body is running on. His feet drag him to somewhere he’s never been before and his knee is hurting, but he doesn’t feel it, he can’t feel it.

There’s only one thing he feels.

Excitement.

He’s there. He’s coming back.

He doesn’t want it to happen. His lips are moving, he’s talking, but he doesn’t register the words that come out. What is he saying? Does he really want to be left alone? He’s been alone his entire life, he’s never been a part of anything, not even of Yuugi’s circle of friends, no matter how much they claimed he was.

Pharaoh doesn’t care for you. Pharaoh kills you if he gets the chance.

“No! No!”

His breathing is ragged, his chest is heaving from the exertion. He’s never been good at any physical exercise. Karita-sensei wasn’t the first victim, and certainly not the last, to have his soul sealed into a lead figurine - his friends, his family, his teachers, all gone all gone all dead and gone and dead…

But I have always been there for you.

“I don’t care! Leave me alone!”

Useless. He’s screaming, he’s yelling, and if there are people on the street at this time of night, they would scurry away for the frantically running boy, bonewhite hair flaring, eyes wild and darting back and forth, a ghost in clothes, sweeping the pavement.

“Leave me… leave me…”

A hollow snicker, somewhere in the back of his mind. It’s confusing and distorting his thoughts. He can’t keep track of what is going on, of what his thoughts are, or what his thoughts are. Voices…one voice. Always the same voice.

The abandoned church looks out of place, and he doesn’t recall ever seeing it before. It doesn’t fit in the architecturial style of the modern city - it looks ancient, quaint, and he doesn’t understand why he’s running towards it.

Looking for salvation? From me?

He opens the doors, expecting them to be heavy. He all but stumbles into the church; a ghastly silence greets him. The occult holds no secrets, and he’s used to darkness all his life. Again this feeling of comfort, of warmth in this eerilie empty church. He walks down the aisle, marveling, reveling in the silence - he’s safe.

No one has been here in what seems like forever. The pews are covered in thick layers of dust, the windows are smudged and blurry, and he can see his footsteps, neatly printed in the dirt. There’s no one here. Even the voice in his head has stopped talking.

Wrapping his arms around him, it’s as cold as it is silent, he continues to walk down the aisle. Religion has never played a part in his life, and he can’t understand why he has run to a church. He doesn’t believe in any deity, is he really expecting to find comfort and solace in an empty, abandonded, ice cold church?

“I don’t want any part of it,” he says out loud and he scares himself with the loudness of his own voice. No answer. Silence.

The altar is devoid of any paraphernalia. Dust and cobwebs are its only decoration. He walks towards it, swaying like a drunk.

Do you still think they will come to rescue you?

His first reaction is to turn around, to snap his head around, expecting someone behind him. The voice sounds like it belongs to someone, anyone who could walk beside him. Silly, stupid, of course there’s no one else in the church, and there’s no one behind him. He’s been running the entire night, and he has no coat with him. Another shiver, and a faint sound catches his attention; to his utter surprise, the candles on both sides of the altar are burning.

They weren’t burning when he entered. He stands still, his body frozen up in fear. Adrenaline is rushing through him. Excitement. Why isn’t he feeling fear, yes he is feeling fear, but why isn’t it overtaking his mind and soul? Why is there excitement, why is heat rushing through his body, despite standing still? It’s him. He doesn’t want him, and yet he’s begging for him.

“I don’t care… leave me alone..!” He repeats, but there’s no vehemence in his voice. A tear wells up in he corner of his eye. He’s scared. He thought the other was gone. He doesn’t even have the pendant anymore. Yuugi had it.

The eighth key is in the Pharaoh’s memories. We need that key. Without it, we can’t open the Gates of Hell. You still have a mission.

“We? WE?” He yells, the high pitch in his voice hurting his ears. “Mission? What mission?”

For a moment, he thinks the voice is silent again, but there’s still a noise ringing in his ears. It’s his own voice, still screaming, still crying out in disgust and in surprise, in longing and in fear…it takes him a moment to realize it’s not the sound of a voice, but the sound of an organ.

He wants to fight, but his body is locked up, and he can’t even clench his fist. His life…what about his life? He has felt so much pain. So much sadness, so much loneliness. All his life he tried to make friends, to belong to a family, to be who he wanted to be. His mother is gone. His sister is gone. His father his gone. His friends…

“I have always been there for you.”

A solid voice, dancing to the tone of the increasing organ music, slowly but surely swelling. A solid hand on his shoulder and his heart skips a beat, and he gasps. He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t dare to look around.

…God?

“Is that how you think of me?” A whisper in his ear, a gust of breath caressing the strands of his hair. Caressing? Gentleness was the last thing he expects to find here. His heart is beating loudly, his body is refusing to answer his commands, and he frantically inhales and exhales.

“N…no,” he answers.

A chuckle. The music intensifies. This organ…it makes him feel weak. It’s almost as if it nails him to this spot, hypnotizing his senses. Wasn’t there organ music at the funeral of… another gasp, as firm hands press on his shoulders, forcing him down. His knees buckle and he collapses, onto the cold, dusty church floor.

For whatever it’s worth, the brusque movement snaps him out of his trance, and he starts to fight. He moves his arms in an attempt to elbow the person behind him, but he touches nothing but air. Suffocating air, dust whirls up and clogs his nose and throat, and he coughs wildly. Louder, louder, the organ is still playing, the candles are still burning, he can feel the heat from their tiny flames. It’s surreal, and he doesn’t want it to happen. That voice had taken too much of him already. He always allowed others to use him. All he wanted, was his life to himself.

“Beautiful life,” the voice resonates through the church, with its common sarcasm. “Humans value life so much, as if it was God’s gift. There is no God. You should know that. You should know what you are, and what I am.”

“I don’t care!” He wants to spit it into the other’s face, but he can’t see him. He can’t see anything, as clouds of dust hinder his vision. His next cry is smothered, as his face is being pressed to the cold floor. He can’t identify the weight on his back and shoulders and protests, coughing and wheezing.

The voice in his head is gone, transported outside his mind, taken the shape of a living person - or so he thinks, because the weight on him feels physical, and the voice whispering into his ear sounds real enough, even though he can’t see the other’s face, can’t the other’s arms or legs. Yet he’s in a kneeling position, in the middle of the church aisle, facing the empty altar.

He shivers, but it’s not from the cold. His mind holds too many thoughts to sift through, too many fears and worries and hopes and dreams and nightmares. His hair has turned grey from the abundance of dust, and his pale skin shows goosebumps as it’s exposed. The fingers on his body aren’t warm. They’re bony, long and small, and they trail along his spine as a spider, traipsing lower and lower.

He should be fighting. He should be screaming. There’s no one here, no one can hear him. No one would come to save him. He’s been a slave his entire life. A slave to circumstances he couldn’t control, a slave to circumstances he couldn’t influence, a slave to a personality that was stronger than his.

He doesn’t even cry. He doesn’t want to cry. Somewhere, deep down, he feels happy. Happy that he’s not alone anymore. Honored perhaps, a sick, twisted sense of honor to be the chosen one for this personality. It’s all right. The excitement returns, as if he’s celebrating the return of his best friend.

“The answer to your question,” the voice says and more of his skin is exposed, and the shiver down his spine is not from the spider-like fingers but from the intense, gutwrenching dark tones coming from the organ, “is no.”

No.

No.

No.

He starts to scream at the same time the church windows shatter into a million pieces and the glass rains down on his skin, cutting his sensitive flesh. The organ is still playing and there’s laughter ringing in his ears, and pain is there, all over his body, cold, wet and harsh pain, and he finally clenches his fists.

He still screams, no, the answer is not no, no, there aren’t any answers, no to the personality possessing him, no to the voice dancing around in his mind again, no to the body on top of his whose face he can’t see, no to the intrusion, no to the violation.

He has no choice but to take it. He has always been standing on the sidelines. He had to take what life threw at him, what God or gods threw at him, if he believed in it. His body responds, shame mixing with embarrassment mixing with excitement, and his legs tremble, but not from pain. He arches his back and a fingers tangle in his hair, lifting his face up from the dusty floor.

All he wanted, is gone. Unimportant. He’s acquiescing to what’s happening to him, and he finds no resistance. Not within himself, not within his body. Sensations coil in his stomach, his cheeks sporting a reddish color as he realizes how naked, how vulnerable he is. He also realizes how the other uses it for his own means, and it should infuriate him, how the other uses him with a confidence as if he belongs to him.

It ends just as abruptly as it started. The heat, the intrusion is gone. He lies in the middle of the church aisle, covered in shards of glass. The organ is silent, and a gust of cold evening wind caresses his bare skin. He’s exposed from the waist down, but there is no one here to see it. No one. He tries to move, muscles protesting, as he reaches for his clothes. There’s something…between his legs, sticking to his thighs, and he feels disgust and happiness at the same time.

“Are you there?” He asks.

I’ve always been here.

The immediate answer soothes him. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he finishes dressing himself up again, moving around like an old man, every movement slow and painful. He cuts himself on the glass, but just as with his knee, he doesn’t feel it. He often takes the pain for him. It’s like a friend, a partner, who has left for a holiday and who has now returned.

He takes him, with everything that he has. Hope, despair, happiness, fear and joy.

He can’t leave him.

And neither can he.

Shivering from the cold, the candles blown out by the wind, he drags himself to the doors again, shuffling his feet.

-------------------------

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yamishipping, Red Dawn, part 6

Thu, 19 Feb 2009 21:14:02 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, major character death!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

Yuugi was silent as he went into his house. As the rest of the Resistance, he was used to live mostly underground, in the basement - he hadn’t changed a thing about the house itself, leaving the rooms intact and unused, except for Mahaado occupying one of the bedrooms. That had been an emergency solution - Yuugi didn’t want the two Generals to meet up with each other, not yet. The risks were too great. He felt bile rise up in his throat, which had nothing to do with either of the Generals - he was about to set foot in a part of the building where he rather wanted to stay out of. The Game Shop had been closed for quite a while now, the store going out of business as soon as Kaiba Gozaburo had taken control over this part of the world. Fortunately, his grandfather had died before witnessing the decay; the amount of dust gathered on the display cases and the counter was a silent, yet sad witness. Children used to run around in the store, buying the merchandise, getting excited about card games, board games, any game… but it was eerilie silent, and Yuugi didn’t notice he was holding his breath as he made his way over to the large, solid oak wooden counter. Quickly kneeling down, he buried his fingers in the thick layer of dust, searching over the floor until he hit a small, brass ring. In theory, this maybe wasn’t the best hiding place, but it was the only hiding place he had; keeping these Items in the basement would be too dangerous as well. He was the only one who knew about this place, the only one to even come into the store - that just had to do for now.

Lifting up the tile, his hand went into the small storage space and he pulled out the rectangular package. Carefully, he peeled a few flaps of cloth away, and the golden jewelry was revealed. He touched it reverently with his other hand. Whoever had crafted these Items, he or she had a very distinctive eye for beauty and magnificence in the simplest sense of the word. The Tauk didn’t bear an intricate design, it was rather gaudy, but still…it was mesmerizing, the attention to detail, the craftmanship. Yuugi wrapped it up in the cloth again and placed the tile back into its original position. The hidden storage space held one more Item: the Sennen Eye. He never questioned Isis on how she had gotten it, and she had never bothered to tell him. It wasn’t a secret that one of the Generals had died of old age; somehow Isis had managed to get her hands on the Eye before Gozaburo did… or she had stolen it.

He cut off that train of thoughts and moved his hand over the floor to cover it up with dust again. Yuugi hurried back to the basement, only to find his friends still discussing the matter, though their voices had quieted down. Malik leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, and he glared at Yuugi as he passed him. Bakura seemed to be completely engulfed by shadows, the meager light in the hallway only showing his silhouette and strands of his bonewhite hair, his black trench covering his body.

Upon his return to the meeting room, Isis turned around, movements graceful and composed. She was standing next to the table, her hands piling up the dishes that everyone had left because of the sudden panic after ‘Namu’'s broadcast. Yuugi counted on his friends to oversee the evacuation and that everyone would pack accordingly. He didn’t think he or his friends were going to get any sleep tonight.

“Here you are, Isis-san,” he said and handed her the package. The expression on her face was a mixture of disbelief, relief and… fear. What was she afraid of? Did she still not trust him? Yuugi bit his lip. Her fingers touched the cloth, plucking at the hem.

“Thank you,” she said. Removing the cloth, she hesitated for a second before picking up the Item. With steadfast hands, she moved it around her neck and fastened the clasp. She smoothed her long, black hair, fanning the strands over her shoulders, before touching the Tauk again. The moment she touched it, the Item shone brightly and Yuugi closed his eyes in a reflex. When he opened them, Isis had taken her hand away from the Item and smiled at him, albeit wistfully.

“I have seen the future,” she said and her smile turned warm, like how a mother would smile tenderly to a child. He was amazed by the brilliance of her smile, amazed by her beauty. She was practically radiating with warmth and a serene, almost angelic calmness, despite her dark grey, cold environment, the colorless walls of the basement and the general bad light. “Thank you, Mutou Yuugi. Your kindness will be rewarded.”

He looked up at her, and almost gave a yelp when she grabbed his hand, pressing the Tauk against his palm and folding his fingers over it. He hadn’t even seen her taking the Item off, and he stared dumbfoundedly at her, not understanding what she was doing.

“Take good care of it,” she said, admonishingly. “These Items are crucial, as you know already. I have seen them in your hands, Mutou Yuugi. Broken, but in your hands.”

“Isis-san…”

“You will have to excuse me,” she said and bowed to him. Bowed to him. Taken aback, Yuugi’s mouth fell open. “I will retreat to my room, for it is my final hour.”

“F-final hour? Isis-san, would you... could you please tell me what’s going on, without..”

“Sugarcoating it?” She sounded strangely amused as she walked towards the door. “If you truly wish so. I am about to die, and when my moment is there, I would prefer to spend it in the presence of my brother only.”

“What? Isis-san, no!” Yuugi grabbed her arm. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, and normally he wouldn’t touch someone like this without permission. “You shouldn’t take your life…”

She laughed shortly, humorlessly, but she didn’t pull herself away from him.

“When a General touches the Item that is connected to him… or her,” she said softly, “it will kill him. It is all right, Yuugi. The Generals are not of this world. Gozaburo’s reign was never supposed to last forever.” Her voice sounded tired. “My time is over. Others will end it for me.”

“But Isis-san..!”

“Why did you think I had the Tauk wrapped in a cloth when I first met you?”

“I… I don’t know, I didn’t think anything of it…”

“You could not have known, but have you never wondered why I was not wearing the Item that was supposedly tied to or fueling my powers?” She shook her head, her hair shifting with every movement. “It does not matter. Malik might be able to fill you in later… but my time is over, and I want to spend the last hour I have in the company of my brother.”

“Isis-san...” Yuugi’s mouth ran dry, astonishment visible on his face. His fingers slipped from her arm as she stepped closer to the door. She halted, just for a moment, head held high.

“You are a good person. It was an honor to have known you, my Pharaoh.”

She was out the door before he could stop her, and when he rushed out of the meeting room, he saw her walking down the hallway, leaning on Malik. Bakura was on her other side, gently holding her hand.

“What was that all about?” Jounouchi asked, his eyes following the others’ retreating backs. They had overheard bits and pieces of the entire conversation as the door hadn’t been entirely closed; Yuugi whisked them inside, and this time he made sure the door was closed.

“I understand now,” Yuugi said. “The Items will bring peace by taking out their wielders. If we have all the Items, and the Generals touch them, they’ll die. Gozaburo will be without his powerful... companions. Without his Generals, Gozaburo is just one man only; his forces and troops will be crippled without their powerful command.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do? Kill? Is there nothing in this world that doesn’t kill or maim or destroy? You can’t call that ‘bring peace’!” Anzu didn’t bother to hide her horror, her large blue eyes showing what she was feeling. Honda was quick to comfort his fiancée; he closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Honda said, pensively. “I don’t like people to die either, and the idea that they die from touching the object that belongs to them is just repulsive, but.. what are we going to do with six… ah, five Generals, all powerful, and amongst them one insane Pharaoh? If they really aren’t of this world, death might be the best solution for them.”

“You can’t be serious,” Anzu said, her voice thick. “They are human! The Items are a blob of gold! People shouldn’t be dying for it, no matter who or what they are!”

“People are going to die if we don’t do something,” Jounouchi pointed out, voice uncharacteristically cold. “That ‘Namu’ person told us that the Pharaoh will attack us tomorrow. That means we only have this night to get the women and children out of here, grab and hide all our stuff, and organize something like a defense!”

“We don’t have any way of defending ourselves from powerful Generals, but to crawl into a corner and die,” Honda said. “No offense, Yuugi, the Resistance wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for you, but all that we’ve done is hiding and waiting until others made a move. Well, that day has finally arrived – the Pharaoh makes a move, and we have nothing to defend ourselves with!”

“We didn’t use violence when we captured Mahaado-san,” Yuugi objected. “A punch or two,” he corrected himself when seeing Jounouchi and Honda grin. “Nobody died, nobody got hurt. We aren’t like Gozaburo or the Generals. We don’t kill or hurt people, not even if they try to kill or hurt us.”

“That won’t make you win the battle, Yuugi. Talking about Mahaado, isn’t it because of him that the Pharaoh targets us? He can have his magician-General back if he leaves us alone.”

“It’s too late for negotiations now,” Yuugi said. “Neither I nor Gozaburo have issued the intention to negotiate, and it’s too late. This situation has to come to an end.”

Anzu sighed and tucked herself away under Honda’s arm. “If we could deal with Mahaado, then we can certainly deal with this Pharaoh. He must have a weakness. Everyone has a weakness.”

“Time,” Yuugi answered. The other three looked at him.

“What?”

“Time. He needs time to summon a God. We must distract him, somehow, something, to keep him from summoning a God. That is our only chance,” Yuugi said. He sat down, propping his elbows on the table. “Or we need to have his Item and make sure he touches it.”

“The Sennen Puzzle,” Jounouchi said, deflated. “No one even knows where it is, man.”

“I don’t think even Gozaburo knows where the Puzzle is. It’s supposed to be the ultimate of the ultimate powers. Wouldn’t he have found a way to have the Pharaoh carry it with him?”

“The risk is too great,” Yuugi said. “If the Items truly kill their wielders, Gozaburo would be without his Pharaoh. That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.”

“We have the Tauk, and the Eye, and Malik and Bakura have the Ring and the Rod. We know to whom the first two belonged… but not the other two.”

“They are not the Pharaoh’s, we know that. The Puzzle is connected to him.”

“I don’t want Mahaado to die,” Anzu said. “He’s a kind man, true to his word, and he doesn’t want to follow Gozaburo at all. Only his loyalty to the Pharaoh kept him there.”

“He doesn’t need to die,” Yuugi said soothingly. Truth be told, he didn’t want Mahaado to die either. Yuugi had been toying with the idea to introduce the magician-General to the facilities in the basement and to the other members of the Resistance. It suddenly dawned to him that Isis had never asked about the other General, to see him, or…

… the air was pierced with a wailing sound, a cry of pure anguish. Everyone flinched, and Anzu buried herself in Honda’s arms. They all recognized Malik’s voice – Isis was no longer. Jounouchi looked a little pale, his lips turned in to a disapproving grimace. Yuugi knew his friend better than anyone else; Jounouchi was probably thinking of the bad things he had said to Isis and how he had treated her, without reconciling before her death. He shuffled with his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

Anzu disentangled herself from Honda’s grasp and walked out of the room. She clasped her hand over her mouth, as if she wanted to throw up.

“Anzu!” Yuugi stood still, torn between following her and offending Honda, or staying here and not consoling his friend. Honda caught onto his predicament, and nodded tersely.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re better at consoling anyway. Just go, Yuugi; I’ll take care of the evacuation with this numbskull over here.”

The fact that Jounouchi didn’t even protest against how Honda called him, told Yuugi enough. With a grateful look at his friend, he quickly left the room. He knew where he would find Anzu, and it took him five minutes to get upstairs. He wrestled himself through the crowd, people up in arms about the evacuation, gathering their belongings, the panic still tangible.

Yuugi passed the children in the hallway and excused himself when he went up the stairs, using the fake exit in the bathroom once again. The Sennen Tauk was tucked in the back pocket of his pants; the Item felt warm for some absurb reason, and he wanted to get rid of it. He had to put it immediately back in its hiding place… immediately after he had spoken to Anzu.

She was on the stairs, sitting mid-way, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees, head on her arms. Her shoulders shook, but she cried soundlessly. Yuugi climbed up the stairs and sat down a few steps under her, placing his hand on her leg. Anzu moved her own hand down, grabbing his and entangling their fingers.

“Stay with me,” she said.

“I will,” he answered.

“No,” she said. “Stay with me.”

He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her fingers - it wasn’t a real kiss, just a brush of his lips. He longed for her to crawl into his arms as she did with Honda, and to rake his fingers through her chestnut hair, and to smell her flowery scent from up close… but she had chosen Honda, and he would rather stay celibate for the rest of his life than to hurt any of his friends. It didn’t mean that their bond was less strong or meaningful. Yuugi and Anzu had shared much of their lives together, and it was a surprise that they didn’t end up together in an official relationship. Anzu had simply said once that she had chosen for Honda, and Yuugi had left it at that. He didn’t want to have his heart even more broken by knowing exactly why Anzu had not chosen him.

“I don’t know the future,” he whispered. “All that I know is…”

She looked at him, teary-eyes, her cheeks a little wet.

“Isis-san saw me with the Items, broken.”

Her lip quivered, but her voice sounded calm when she asked: “What was broken? The Items, or… you?”

“The Items,” he answered, too quickly. At least, that was what he had interpreted from Isis’ vision. He didn’t want to think about the last option.

“I’m afraid you’re going to die.” Anzu kept her voice low. “Like Isis. I’m afraid that everyone of us is going to die, and that Gozaburo will have his world like he wants it to be, and that there will be no more hope left.”

“No, Anzu, never,” he said, and he tightened his grip on her hand. “That will never happen.”

“What if the Pharaoh-General kills you?”

“He won’t,” Yuugi answered, trying to sound confident. “Have faith, Anzu…”

“I do. I do have faith, Yuugi… I had faith since the beginning of all of this, since we went underground and hid for the Elite Troops, since we tried to infiltrate Gozaburo’s headquarters, since we tried to stop his Generals…”

“There’s never any limit on faith, nor does faith suddenly runs out.” Yuugi shifted his hand a little to look at her fingers. Her nails were short and split; she was known for chewing on her nails when stressed.

“Distorted beauty,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly said and beamed at her. “Anzu, we will win, and everything will be all right. We’ll leave here tonight, and we’ll bring people into safety.”

A very watery smile. “You’ll never lose, won’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll never lose hope, or faith…”

“Never,” he said, louder this time. Her smile turned more confident.

“We need you. Don’t you dare lose your life. The Resistance won’t survive without you.”

“I’m not that strong,” Yuugi whispered, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

“Yes you are,” Anzu said and leaned a little forward, opening her arms for him. Silently, they hugged. “You just preached to me about keeping up faith, so why don’t you, huh?”

He had to chuckle. “I can always trust on you to bring me right back down to Earth.”

“Our beautiful Earth.”

“Our beautiful Earth,” he repeated. Yuugi looked up for no apparent reason, and his heart almost skipped a beat when he saw Mahaado standing on top of the stairs. The magician-General looked aghast; not to see Yuugi in an embrace, but from what he had overheard. Isis was gone. There was an indescribable pain in his eyes, sadness marring his face, and he turned around to move away as silently as he had come. Yuugi leaned with his head on Anzu’s shoulder, his body tensing up from the awkward position; but he held on to her, as if this was the last time he could be hugging her… and maybe it was.

--------------------------

Hopeless, just plain, simple, hopeless. Otogi had been scratching at his prison cell door for hours, maybe even for days. He had lost track of time already. Sighing, he straightened himself, immediately wincing from the pain in his back. The dim light in the hall was his only focus point, and the silence was haunting and ghastly. Kaiba Seto had stopped answering him a long time ago. The thought that the other might have died was something Otogi didn’t want to consider. It scared him even more and confirmed his earlier fear that Noa was going to let him rot and die here.

His stomach protested; Gods, he felt like he could eat a whole chicken, not to mention drink a gallon of water. His throat was dry and raspy, and he already had developed a nasty cough; it was cold and damp down here, and he hadn’t slept. He was afraid he might never wake up if he lied down. There was nothing in the cell providing him any comfort to sleep anyway; only a little bit of hay in the northeast corner. Who in his right mind put a wad of hay in a cell? Every Kaiba is fucking insane, he thought. Otogi usually never swore; it was a sign that he was starting to panic. He was going to die here, from malnutrition and dehydration, forgotten and alone in this fucking dirty cell!

Frustrated, he slammed with his fist into the door again, welcoming the pain. He knew he was still alive if he could feel pain. His fingers felt numb, nails broken and torn from the scratching he had done. It was hopeless on the smooth surface, he was never going to make it. Maybe… maybe he could try to call out to Kaiba again, hopefully he’d get an answer this time.

Otogi’s thoughts were at their lowest and most hopeless, when the building shook. The force was so great that he was flung into the back wall, and he gasped out loud. The wind was knocked out of him, his ribs hurting - but not cracking, thank God - and he groaned in pain. The large tower was shaking on its foundation, cracks tearing the walls as if it was paper, large chunks of plaster and rocks of concrete falling down from the ceiling. Otogi huddled in the corner, tryint to protect himself by covering his head and neck with his arms and hands. What was going on? An earthquake? What power could make this whole building shake like it was a leaf in the wind?

It took maybe a little more than ten seconds, but it felt like minutes. Holding his breath, his body hurting all over, Otogi remained huddled in the corner until the last tremor had ebbed away. His hands and hair were covered with plaster and rubble, and there was a huge gap next to him, the piece of concrete having missed him by a few inches. He could look into the other - empty - cell. Careful, he tried to get up, only to skid and fall back on his lower backside again when the air was torn by a thunderous roar, an unnatural sound that hurt his ears. He yelled out in fear, the dark, aggressive low tone of the roar sending shivers down his spine. What could possibly make such a sound? It was so overwhelming that it forced him to stay on his knees, so forceful that it struck fear into him. There was nothing he could compare it with - if it was from a living thing, he didn’t want to know what animal was responsible for it. This wasn’t thunder, lightning or any other force of nature - some kind of beast had roared, and if he wasn’t frightened enough already, Otogi didn’t want to think of the size of the beast capable of this.

Time passed and everything seemed to slowly return to normal. The dim light in the hallway was off, and he took his time to adjust his eyes to the dark. There was a lightsource somewhere, and he tracked the small beam of light to a small gap in the ceiling. The walls showed serious cracks. Rubble and plaster were still falling down; this had been some earthquake. Otogi assumed it was an earthquake, he couldn’t think of anything else. The roar he’d heard...well, he suppressed any thought about that, for now. His eyes were used to the dark now, and his mind was working fast. There was no more light. With a bit of luck, the earthquake had caused the electricity to shortcircuit, which meant that the electronic lock was open. Might be open. He licked his lips, nervously. If this was true, than this was his one and only chance to escape!

He was at the door in just a few steps, and put his hands against it. Gods, please let it be true..! Otogi started to push. The Gods were with him - the heavy door started to give way. Triumphantically, Otogi pushed harder and harder. He wedged his shoulder between the door opening, his chest heaving from the exertion. Who had installed these fucking heavy doors? Was this another Kaiba ‘joke’? The door was so heavy that he had difficulties pushing it further open. Like a cat, he tried to squirm through, praying that the door wasn’t crushing his limbs. An arm went through the opening, and he told himself to remain calm; if he allowed the door to slam shut, he would certainly be crushed by the weight.

Scraping and cutting his skin and tearing his clothes, Otogi managed to get himself through the door opening, panting and cursing under his breath. Finally, he was outside of his cell, and he let go of the door which immediately slammed back into its original position; the only difference was that the electronic lock didn’t close it up. Wheezing, he yelled in victory, not caring if his entire body hurt. He couldn’t care less about the pain - he was free, out of his cell, thanks to a stupid earthquake! What were the odds?

His earlier panic and fear had dissolved, replaced by adrenalin and excitement. He was free again! His face started to hurt - from the big smile on his lips, reaching from ear to ear. He knew most of the layout of the KaibaCorp. Tower, with a bit of luck he could escape unseen. He had to make his way to the Resistance… if there was still a Resistance left. How could he reach his room from this floor, and get his stuff? At least something to eat and to drink? He was going to pass out soon…

He started to move, ignoring the cramped pain in his feet. Kaiba’s cell was on his right - the door was completely out of its hinges, the electronic lock dangling from a few wires. It was dark inside the cell; dark and silent. Otogi bit on his lip. He could make out his silhouette, arms drawn up in the shackles, body lifeless. Poor guy. Gozaburo will pay for this. The earthquake had come too late for him. Slowly, Otogi straightened himself, forcing himself to continue, groaning when he felt more muscles protest. He had work to do, and determinedly, he stepped forward -

“Hey. Hey!”

Otogi froze mid-step. He almost thought that his imagination was running off wild with him, because he wasn’t going to believe that Kaiba was still alive after all of this. It was just a gust of wind, something he thought he’d heared, but that wasn’t necessarily there...

“Get me… out of here.”

“Kaiba,” Otogi said out loud and stepped over the rubble. “You’re still alive?”

He was answered with a cough.

“I take that as a ‘yes’.” Otogi moved carefully, the darkness hindering him, until his foot bumped against something. It rolled over the floor - it was the water bottle he had thrown at Kaiba, just before he was caught himself.

“Can you do something about this?” Kaiba’s voice was just… awful. Otogi picked up the water bottle.

“Do you want to drink first?”

“No, get these shackles off of me!”

Otogi didn’t care that Kaiba all but commanded him. He fumbled around in the dark until he found one of the shackles. The surface was far from smooth, and he snorted.

“Rusty shackles?”

“Courtesy of my dear father,” Kaiba said, his voice filled with loathing. “Do you know what that was?”

Otogi knew what Kaiba was referring to, even though it was hard to understand him; he had barely any saliva left and his tongue was thick, rendering his words incomprehensible.

“I have no idea,” he answered in earnest. “As long as no one’s coming down to check up on us, we’re safe. Hold on... I got it.”

His fingers had found the closures on the shackles; they were rather simple to remove, if you could reach them. He removed the closures and the shackles fell open with a loud, clanging thud on the floor, earning a groan from Kaiba. He dropped his arms and he breathed heavily. It had to hurt, it had to hurt like hell, but Otogi choose not to comment on it, neither on Kaiba’s attempts to hide his pain as he smothered his cries. Otogi didn’t know for how long the other had been in this position, arms cramped upwards against the wall. The pain had to be unbearable and as his blood circulation was running again, the discomfort was something he couldn’t imagine. As not to embarrass Kaiba, Otogi screwed the cap off of the water bottle and held it out for him, only to remind himself that Kaiba couldn’t see him. You got used to everything, apparently - even darkness.

Kaiba uttered a plethora of coarse words under his breath, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. Otogi did his best to ignore it, as well as the stench. His cell hadn’t smelled much better.

“I need my laptop,” Kaiba said out of the blue. “Clothes, water, food, Mokuba… I need to find Mokuba.”

“Your brother, right? I know where he is,”Otogi replied, “he’s in Noa’s quarters. I don’t think that’s the best place where we should be going to right now…”

“I’m not leaving without him!”

“You can’t leave at all,” Otogi shot back and cursed the darkness inside the cell. “Your body is neglected and weak. Here - where’s your hand? I have some water for you. Drink that, and then we get the hell out of here. We have to find the Resistance, I know they have a nurse. She can take care of-”

“To hell with your resistance,” Kaiba answered brusquely. “Wasn’t it because of them you ended up here in the first place?”

“I’m not going to discuss that with you,” Otogi said, “we have better and other things to think about, don’t you think?” He grunted when he was slapped against his stomach – until he realized it was Kaiba putting out his hand, fumbling around in the dark. He pressed the water bottle into his hand and winced when he heard the water slosh, spilling some of the precious liquid.

“Careful!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Kaiba drank, and immediately started to cough violently. His whole body shook, spasming with violent convulsions.

“Take it easy, take is easy!” Otogi found Kaiba’s shoulders and pressed down on them, in an attempt to steady his body. Kaiba snarled at him, immediately drinking more, as if afraid Otogi was going to take the bottle away from him. “You haven’t had food or water in a long time…”

The bottle was dropped, and judging from the sound it made when it hit the floor, it was empty. Otogi was about to cry – he wished Kaiba had left some water for him.

“I have to get out of here. Now.” Kaiba’s voice sounded different, but not less commanding. “Mokuba. My laptop. Those bastards will pay for everything they have done to us.”

“We have to be careful,” Otogi reminded him. “It’s a miracle they haven’t come down yet to check up on us…”

Kaiba barked a laugh. “They probably figure that we’re already dead. Why bother? Help me up.”

Otogi frowned but didn’t comment again. If he left without Kaiba, the other would certainly die. He could be nicer in general, though… knowing he didn’t have a choice, Otogi heaved a sigh and helped him up. Kaiba uttered a deep moan, hissing as he was finally back on his feet, muscles protesting, body weak and deteriorated. He leaned heavily on Otogi, unable to walk on his own.

“I didn’t think... it was this bad.” Kaiba panted from the exertion of standing upright after being shackled and forced into the same, cramped position for so long. “When I get my hands on Noa and Gozaburo…”

“Later,” Otogi said sternly. “We have to get out of here first, and we have a long way to go.”

Kaiba muttered something under his breath. “Let’s go then,” he said, much louder. “I have a brother who needs my help.”

-------------------------------

With an annoyed grunt, he moved the marble bishop closer to the King. His position wasn’t completely endangered, but he had to be careful. Very careful, much to his own surprise. How could Noa of all people have dealt him a blow like this? Noa was supposed to be the whiny, bratty toddler who had no followers and nothing to do but to throw his infamous temper tantrums. It was a smart move of his one and only son by blood to expose Otogi as the double-crosser he was, and Gozaburo still didn’t know to this day how he had found out. It made him feel like a fool, to not have seen through his own assistant’s mask.

He wasn’t going to ask him, of course. His fingers rested on top of the bishop. His son had just proven to be more than just a thorn in his side. Interesting. He hadn’t expect Noa to make a move, any move for that matter. It showed him how dangerous it was to make assumptions; because of his assumption that Noa was satisfied with his life in the tower and was nothing more than an impudent brat, he had allowed the other to become a problem, to grow into a nuisance, far greater than he could ever think of. He was crippled of his magician-General already, he wasn’t going to lose the Pharaoh over it.

Gozaburo refrained from growling. His son wasn’t upsetting him, not at all. He was still the master strategist, and he was always one step ahead. Marik and Bakura had suffered the Pharaoh’s anger, the fools, but they were still the pillars to his sanity. As long as they took the blame and the hits, Gozaburo himself could manipulate the Pharaoh into a position of an avenger: if he encouraged the Pharaoh’s anger about Mahaado’s capture some more, his most powerful General would take out his wrath on the Resistance itself. He could turn the tables around again, and if that pesky Resistance was dealt with, no one could ever hold an upper hand over him. That, and he had more Generals than Mahaado or the Pharaoh to dispose over – and two of them were already standing in front of him.

Karim held his hands on his back as always, puffing himself a little up. He didn’t need that at all as he already was the physically strongest of the Generals, his body buff and muscular. Dressed in rather simple armor, his ebony black hair was held together by a simple golden band. His piercing brown eyes were focused on the chess board as if he tried to figure out the pattern Gozaburo was moving the pieces to. He hadn’t spoken much since he’d arrived a few hours ago; he had just been standing there.

The other General, Shaadah, was completely dwarfed and overshadowed by Karim’s tall physique. He wasn’t wearing any armor, but a turban and wide, comfortable robes instead. He had arrived only half an hour ago, returning from the Middle-East. Gozaburo didn’t know how he did it, but Shaadah had never worn any armor and had never sustained any injuries. The man was a ghost, almost literally, but he got his work done and that was all that mattered. The huge golden rings in his ears were a striking feature; the rest of his body, even his hands, was completely covered by the large, formless robes.

“I will brief you as soon as Set has arrived,” Gozaburo said. It had been a real pain to call that particular General back; Set was doing great work in the United States, one of the last remaining countries resisting his rule. Who knows how much work he was destroying by calling Set back; he probably would have to start all over again. Gozaburo didn’t want to take the risk, nonetheless; not now. The United States could always be conquered later.

“It will take him some time to cross the ocean,” Karim spoke, even at low volume his voice quite booming. “I wish to see my Pharaoh first, then.”

Gozaburo nodded. “I would like to pay him a visit with all of us together, but you are right. I do not know how long it will take for Set to arrive here. After you have freshened up a little, we can go see the Pharaoh.”

“Are we not waiting for Mahaado?” Shaadah asked, and Gozaburo laced his fingers together, his mind racing. He hadn’t informed his Generals about the current situation yet, and he wanted to keep the news about Mahaado to himself until everyone was complete.

“We will be waiting for him, too,” he finally said. He should’ve known that the others would be asking for him. It drove the point home once again that they were stupidly loyal to each other despite working independently, and that their utmost loyalty was with the Pharaoh, not with him. Karim threw Shaadah a quizzical look, even pursing his lips, but didn’t comment.

“I will call for servants to bring you to your-” the building shook. The marble pieces of his chess game tipped over and rolled from the board onto the floor, the paperwork on his desk flying all over, the heavy paperweight bouncing off the desk. Shaadah lost his balance, and only because he held onto his massive desk, Gozaburo prevented himself from falling as well. Karim managed to stay upright, but lifted up his hands in a reflex to protect himself. The walls cracked, and a window splintered into a million fragments. Paintings dropped from the wall, and the chandelier came crashing down, smashing into pieces onto a smaller table.

“What is going on?” He yelled.

Karim looked up as if he could find the answer written on the ceiling, blinking a few times when dust and plaster rained down on his face. “God,” he said, but his voice was lost in a rumble, a deep roaring sound that split the heavens, and Gozaburo thought his ears were going to burst.

“What?”

It was over. As abrupt as it had started, it ended – the sound was gone, the trembling had stopped, and the building was still standing. Gozaburo straightened himself, a little wobbly, and tried to regain his composure. With brusque movements, he dusted off the grit and rubble from his suit, and he eyed the two Generals suspiciously. Karim was still staring at the ceiling, and Shaadah slowly got back up on his feet, rearranging his robes, checking if his turban was still on his head.

“We are too late,” Karim said and he sounded sad, disappointed. Gozaburo wanted to roar himself. He had a very good idea what Karim was talking about, and he stormed past both his Generals, leaving his quarters. As fast as he could walk, using his cane for support, he called for the elevators, hoping they’d still work. He needed to go to the top floor, right now!

-----------------------------

“Yuugi. Wake up, Yuugi.”

He made a noncommittal sound, rolling himself deeper into his blankets. He had barely gotten any sleep – only one, maybe two hours had passed since he lied down.

“Wake up before I dump a bucket of cold water all over you,” the female voice sang into his ear, with nothing in her tone to actually come through with her threat.

“Anzu, stop it,” Yuugi murmured but couldn’t suppress a grin.

She gently shook his shoulder. “I’m sorry to wake you so soon again, but we have to go.”

“Mmnnn… I know…” He buried his face deeper into the pillow. He felt like he could sleep for a few months and forget everything and anything… Yuugi shivered. Despite the blankets, it was still cold down here, and the holes in the fabric weren’t exactly helping. He shivered again and tried to wrestle his arms free.

Together with Anzu, Honda, Jounouchi and Shizuka, he was the only one in the basement left. They had spend the large part of the night evacuating the children and the adults who were staying with the Resistance to other buildings, dispersed all over Domino City. Ironically, one of the sturdiest buildings was another gameshop; the one who’d been in Otogi’s family for generations, suffering the same fate as the Mutou’s Game Shop. Few buildings had survived previous attacks and the ongoing destruction of the Elite Troops. The entire operation had taken place past curfew, and they had to be very careful as there were Troops actively patrolling the perimeters of the suburbs. Some of the children had been crying, and it had taken them ages to soothe the terrified youngsters. Yuugi felt like he had aged considerably during those dark and tense hours.

Malik and Bakura were in Isis’s room. They had closed themselves off from the rest of the Resistance. Yuugi didn’t want to bother Malik so soon after his sister’s death, but he had to talk to him, if only to give the woman a proper burial. His heart weighed heavy with grief for the female General. She had been an enemy, and much of her motives would remain confusing and unclear forever, but she hadn’t deserved to die. The calmness with how she accepted her death was typical for her strong character, and he was going to miss her presence, no matter how uncomfortable he sometimes felt around her.

“Yuugi?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered hurriedly and freed up his other arm. He sat upright, stifling a yawn, almost yelping in surprise when a hot mug was pressed into his hands.

“To get you awake.” Anzu grinned. He returned the grin and smelled – it was coffee. They had a very limited supply of coffee, using it only for very special occasions, and he looked up at her.

“Why..?”

“It was the last bit,” she silenced him, still smiling. “Just drink it, Yuugi. I have breakfast for you, and you’re going to need the energy.”

“Where are the others?”

“Jounouchi and Honda are scouting the area, to see if they can find any signs of the Pharaoh yet. Malik and Bakura… they’re waiting outside.”

She shrugged, but he could see the affection in her eyes. She knew about Isis’ death, and even though she didn’t know her as well as the others did, compassion was still evident from the look on her face.

“All right, I’ll get up,” he said. “Oh, and Shizuka-chan?”

They couldn’t have kept Shizuka separated from her brother no matter how much they tried, and she had refused to listen to her brother’s pleas to get into safety. She had stubbornly latched onto him, literally, and finally he had given up on prying her off of him; he understood the turmoil within her, and how much she was afraid he was going to die.

“She’s in the kitchen, taking care of things.” Anzu made a dismissive gesture with her hands. Shizuka didn’t need anyone’s help in the kitchen, and for quite some people it was a real surprise to learn that she was blind. She moved around with a confidence and ease that was almost uncanny. Yuugi threw the blankets off of him, having slept in his clothes. There was no time left to get some water and get freshed up. Time was running out; even though they had no idea when and where exactly the Pharaoh was going to attack, it would be of no use to sit here and wait until the slaughter would commence.

Slaughter… would the Pharaoh really be that bad? He cared for Mahaado, and anyone capable of caring, wouldn’t kill, right? Yuugi shook his head. Maybe Jounouchi had been right all the time, and had he been too soft, too believing, too naïve.

Still, he couldn’t see anything wrong with believing in the good side, in the good nature of people – if there was the smallest bit of compassion and care in the Pharaoh, he would find it, and draw strength from it. No one would die today if he could help it. He mentally said a quick prayer, and finished drinking his coffee, even though it was too hot and he scorched his tongue.
Breakfast was a hard-boiled egg, a dry roll and something resembling a biscuit. Yuugi wished he had waited with finishing his coffee to wash the bread away. There was nothing he could do about it now and he searched for his shoes. Anzu rolled up his blankets into a compact, small bundle, tying a string of rope around it.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Yuugi answered and took the bundle from her. She didn’t protest but smiled sadly. There was nothing in this room left, the whole basement was cleared out of provisions and supplies – they would need it more than anything. “Let’s go, then.”

In the hallway, Malik and Bakura were leaning against the wall, clearly engaged in conversation. Yuugi could hear them whisper, but was unable to determine the language; it wasn’t Japanese, that was for sure. Malik was turned away from him, and the Sennen Rod was tucked in a belt loop, the nasty sharp winged blades brushing his back. One would have to be more than blind to miss the chunk of gold that seemed very uncomfortable to Yuugi to carry around.

Bakura removed himself from the wall. His Item was also visible; a large pendant with a triangle in the middle, and four, no five prongs dangling from it. They didn’t make a sound and rested against the striped t-shirt he was wearing, this time the black trench coat unbuttoned.

“Malik, I…” Yuugi started, and stopped talking when the other put up his hand.

“Don’t.”

“But…”

“If it’s about my sister, save it,” Malik said, avoiding direct eye contact with Yuugi. “I’m dealing with it, all right? We better go upstairs. I don’t like spending much time in underground basements.”

Bakura tugged at Malik’s shirt, but didn’t speak a word. He looked a little apologetically at Yuugi, then his expression shifted into something… expecting when he looked up at Malik, only to turn into disappointment when Malik pursed his lips and remained silent. Yuugi didn’t understand what was going on, and decided to leave the both of them alone for now. Isis had predicted they were to be confronted with their ‘dark halves’ as she had called it, something he didn’t like the sound of.

Anzu and Shizuka joined the group, Shizuka wearing her usual coat and cradling a gift basket in her arms. No one said that the basket would hinder her movements in case they needed to duck or to run and hide. Anzu had a sympathetic look on her face when she saw how the girl was clutching to the object. Shizuka would never let go of something her brother had gifted upon her.

“Let’s go,” Yuugi said and noticed that Malik and Bakura weren’t carrying anything – they had arrived with nothing and they left with nothing. It made him even sadder, but then he steeled himself. Today was an important day, and he had to remain focused. He even suppressed his feelings about leaving the building his parents and grandparents had build, risking their own lives. He had to focus now. No one was going to die. Not today.

After reaching the surface and going through the small bathroom, Anzu was about to open the front door when Yuugi tapped her on the shoulder.

“You go ahead,” he said. She looked disturbed, not understanding, until he nodded towards the stairs.

“I’ll see you soon,” the girl whispered and opened the door, not making any sound since Honda had adjusted and oiled the rail. Yuugi went up the stairs, taking two steps at once. He didn’t look into the rooms with the covered furniture. It was hurting too much, especially now.

Mahaado was, as usual, sitting on the edge of his bed. In the few days he had spend in captivity, he had already developed his own routine. He was always sitting on the edge of his bed when someone arrived. Yuugi entered the room without knocking.

“You probably expected breakfast by now,” he said.

“I did,” the magician-General answered, “but honestly..? After seeing you all leave in the middle of the night…”

“You’re free to go,” Yuugi said.

“I have always been free to go,” Mahaado quipped. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I just never used the opportunity, that is all.”

“I have to ask you to use it now, or…” Yuugi returned the small smile. “…wait until the Pharaoh finds you. We received a transmission from someone named Namu, warning us for an oncoming attack.”

Mahaado’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I am happy to see my Pharaoh again, should he come for me,” he said and he rose, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes. “I will stay by your side to welcome him, Mutou Yuugi.”

“Whu.. what?”

“You heard me the first time.” Mahaado walked to the corner and wrapped his fingers around his magician’s staff, lifting it up gently. He didn’t look at his armor, simply piled up on the floor.

“He will try to destroy us,” Yuugi said. “For keeping you here. If…”

“My Pharaoh will listen to reason,” Mahaado said sternly. “If you can deal with his bodyguards, and I can manage to talk to him alone, there will be no trouble at all, and no destruction at all. I will go with you and we will set this straight.”

“If you really think-” Yuugi covered his ears the next second as deep, dark rumbling sound drowned his voice out, a terrifying… roar that send shivers down his spine. Fear clenched at his stomach, and his knees almost gave out on him. Mahaado was eerily calm, and never took his eyes off of Yuugi, but his knuckles turned white from the intense grip on his staff.

“The Dragon of Heavens,” he said. “Osiris has been called forth. It is worse than I thought. We have to leave here now, hurry!”

--------------------------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle, part 7

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 20:30:00 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence.
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Key: ----------- = scene change

The hotel suite was rather luxurious, compared to what was available. Sanq’s borders weren’t exactly a hot spot for international tourists and there wasn’t much choice in accomodation. The two bedrooms were seperated by a smaller room the size of a broom closet, which they had used to stash all their luggage and equipment. A miniature size ‘living room’ completed the suite - two wooden seats with flat, hard pillows, a dented coffee table and something resembling a chaise-lounge, complete with stained, worn upholstery..

Duo waited up for Heero to return, but as time passed by and there was still no sign of him, he decided to go to bed. He tried to fall asleep, annoyance and worry fighting for dominance in his heart. He hated not knowing what was going on, and not being able to decipher Heero once more. He never had to distrust him, they had been in a loving relationship where Heero’s love and dedication were simply unquestionable. But what was he supposed to think now, having seen with his own eyes that Heero had been talking to someone he couldn’t trust? Chang Wufei, tied to Khushrenada in some way, the katana wielding warrior who stole the first part of the Never-Ending of him.

Growling, he turned around in the bed, refusing to think where Heero could be and what he was doing. He had wanted to give the other an earfull, but blissful sleep was claiming him slowly but surely. Duo didn’t like to think in a pessimistic way, but he knew better than to expect to get an answer out of Heero. Even under the greatest pressure or in torture, Heero Yuy didn’t talk. With a sigh he turned around again, taking the mass of blankets with him, snuggling into the warmth. Duo propped his hand under his chin. Yes, sleep, finally…he could almost feel himself slowly sinking away, the darkness tugging at him, his eyes heavy, his breathing slow…and there was an undefined, creaking sound coming from his door. Duo’s other hand went under his pillow, fingers clenching around the Uzi he’d hidden there. The irony of it all was that he couldn’t force himself to be fully awake. His body and mind registered the soft noises, the presence of someone else in his room. It felt like a dream sequence, something unreal, and he doubted if he was agile and fast enough to pull out the Uzi and fire if this person proved to be a burglar. Duo forced his breathing back under control. Footsteps, slightly muffled by the carpet. Someone was approaching his bed. His fingers cramped around the gun. Stay calm. Stay calm. Why wasn’t he awake? Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

It took all of his remaining willpower to not gasp out loud, to not shiver or moan, as he felt warm lips pressing to his cheek. Rough lips, not soft, etched from weather and wind, carrying a scent with them that he longed to smell again and again. He knew how those lips tasted, he knew how they liked to be kissed, he knew how they could turn into a warm smile, meant only for him…. By all means, Heero should’ve noticed long by now that he wasn’t really asleep, yet he continued to kiss him - feathery light, across his cheek, close to his temple. It was soothing, and it brought back mixed emotions: he wanted to turn around and throw his arms around him, pulling Heero with him on the bed and strip off his clothes and kiss him like mad, but on the other hand he didn’t want to give in, the wall between them too high, the bond too fragile to be repaired with just a few kisses. Before he knew it, the footsteps moved away from him again, leaving his skin cold and untouched. His tight grip on the gun under his pillow loosened itself as sleep overwhelmed him, the kisses lingering in his mind.

------------------------

The Land Rover had no trouble whatsoever dealing with the road - that barely even deserved the name ‘road’ since the asphalt left much to be desired - and the engine was purring like an oversized cat. This part of Sanq country, so close to the border, was accessible fairly well; Duo snorted as he thought back to the flyers he’d seen in the hotel lobby: tourist agencies offering excursions to visit the ‘deep, mysterious heart of Sanq’.

Only people who had been to Sanq before knew that the tourist excursions wouldn’t lead too far or that deep into the country - in the course of time, Sanq had turned into an unpredictable jungle as nature took back what was hers, and wildlife and vegetation had developed accordingly. No wonder it was protected by many international laws - Sanq was now acknowledged as a natural wildlife preserve, and the only excursions allowed were for research purposes, studying the plants and animals under strict and professional guidance. If tourists paid enough, they could participate in sightseeing excursions, but no travel agency in their right mind would allow tourists to wander around in the jungle on their own. Quite a few natives were making a good living off of these guided tours. Duo and Heero, albeit not tourists or researchers, had crossed the border with official papers - it wasn’t hard to get the right papers if you knew the right people. Nonetheless, as Sanq didn’t promote archaeological research, it had taken them quite some bribery to waive the rule that a guide should accompany them. They didn’t need anyone, and they didn’t want any guide to trek along with them.

As Heero was driving, Duo sipped a little water from his bottle. Strapped into his seat, he’d drawn his knees up to his chest, leaning against the door to look out of the window. He was very grateful that Trowa had provided them with a Land Rover - an open jeep was unable to withstand this rough jungle. The lower tree branches bashed against the roof of the car continuously, and sometimes Duo winced. He really didn’t want to imagine how the Land Rover was going to look like as soon as they were finished with their expedition.

The sturdy belt around his waist shifted a little, exposing the holsters with the guns, as well as the row of clips mounted on them for easy and quick change - another nifty invention of Hilde’s, enabling him to reload his guns within a matter of seconds instead of digging around in pockets or his backpack for new ammunition.

“You aren’t suffering, are you?” Heero suddenly asked.

Duo looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“What you’re wearing,” Heero said, chuckling. “It must be very hot. Have you forgotten that the weather in Sanq is all but tropical?”

“No, I haven’t,” Duo said, slightly miffed. “You should’ve recognized this fabric - it’s Hilde’s special design, thank you very much. It adjusts to any change in body heat or outside temperature. I’m never hot or cold.”

“You’re always hot,” Heero said lamely, then stared in front of him. This road might be the most accessible, but it was slowly crumbling down, decades of lack of maintenance taking its toll. The Land Rover shook and bumped along, its double axles getting a heavy workout.

Duo pursed his lips a little before grinning. “My, my, I think you just made an erotically suggestive comment, Heero my dear.”

Heero didn’t answer, but kept his eyes on the road as if in trance. His gloved hands rested casually on the steering wheel, and he didn’t blink when tree branches hit the roof or windshield, or when the car bumped through another pothole. Duo focused on the window, simply looking outside, and tried to not pay much attention to the shaky and bumpy ride. Bad roads were probably the least of their problems, and he wanted to avoid developing a headache.

They hadn’t said much since breakfast. Duo had waited patiently for Heero to start talking, to explain what happened yesterday, why he had left the hotel room and met up with Chang. He wasn’t really surprised when no explanation left Heero’s lips, acting like nothing had happened. Duo had been torn by either keeping silent himself or forcefully asking Heero, but decided at the last moment against asking. Instead, he would give Heero the opportunity to respond later, when they had arrived at the heart of Sanq’s capital…when there was no one around to disturb or to overhear them. He had proceeded finishing up his gear, adding bottles of water and some more provisions, as well as a small first-aid kit. He even arranged for extra provisions for Heero, earning a soft, but genuine “Thank you” in return.

“Thank God for GPS,” Duo muttered as he pulled the device out of his belt and stared at the small screen. The few available maps of Sanq were outdated; it was hard to document the changes the wild nature added to the country, and the former inhabitants hadn’t bothered to draw a proper map to begin with. They had felt so safe in their own little nation, protected by the royal family, that they had slowly started to stand outside of the rest of the world. A true utopia that finally crumbled under the heavy weight of their collective naïvety and blind faith; how the Peacecrafts could ever think they were safe from war just by simply hanging onto their principles of peace, astounded him.

“The Royal Palace is not far off now,” Heero said. “It’s a good thing Howard used satellite imagery to track it and log it into the GPS. That saves us a lot of time of searching around.”

“A good thing, yes,” Duo answered. “My ass is going to be so black and blue from all this shaking and bumping around.”

Heero tugged a little at the wheel. “These roads aren’t exactly paved with gold, you know.”

“More like paved with blood.” Duo quickly sobered. Decades ago, tanks and trucks loaded with war materials had driven through here, flattening every building, killing thousands of innocents, while the Peacecrafts had called upon their pacifistic policies in vain. The country had been literally trampled by the first mobile suits, designed by mankind with no other purpose than to destroy. In the general panic, the survivors fled the country, and Sanq would be occupied for the duration of the war. No one blamed the royal family for their beliefs and their passive attitude; moreso, their principles gained a large following all over the world tired of war, and the family itself was still hung up on their vision of total disarmament and global peace. Relena was one of the first to actually adjust her vision, understanding that sometimes violence was needed to maintain and to defend peace. She wasn’t happy to acknowledge that realisation - but she was aware of it. She was the first of her family to understand that as long as people were still willing to trade weapons, as long as not everyone supported global peace, total disarmament simply wasn’t possible.

Duo shook his head. What a horrible irony for the girl to follow her her family into their every footstep and principles, only to learn of her brother Milliardo taking up arms in the war that had driven them out of their homeland. A black sheep, he paid dearly for the ‘sins’ of his youth, in an attempt to defend what was dear to him - now he paid with silence and slavery, unable to help his sister. Relena’s delicate position in the peace balance of the world was too much and too important to endanger; the colonies would immediately declare war if the Queen of the World was compromised.

“Here we are, the outskirts of the city,” Heero announced as he hit the brakes, grunting as he saw the wide ditch in front of them. “We need to put planks in place.”

Duo nodded to Heero and jumped out of the Land Rover. This was even too wide for their vehicle to cross, but the jungle provided enough logs to create a makeshift bridge. Heero helped him to hoist two large logs over the ditch, lining them up perfectly with the Land Rover’s wheels. As Heero carefully continued to drive, the logs bended dramatically under the excessive weight. Duo shouted directions to him, beads of sweat running all over his body. It was hot, extremely humid weather, and his chestnut bangs were sticking to his face. He wished he was back in the car with the comfortable AC running. Or a shower, a shower sure would come in handy…concentrating on the job at hand, he guided Heero over the logs who splintered at the last moment, causing the Land Rover to slip; with a firm dot of gas and Heero’s good driving, the vehicle stayed on the road.

It would take them another ninety minutes before they reached the heart of what once was the majestic capital of Sanq. Duo felt disheartened to see every building, every ornament, every little shed, torn and shot to pieces. It was one thing to discover a civilization being mauled at the hands of time, but it was a whole another thing to find a nation being mauled at the hands of mankind. Even battered mobile suits, a silent sign of the weak resistance the people had put up, were still on the streets, covered with moss. Desolation was almost tangible here - Duo had seen paintings and early pictures of the country, reminding him of sunny Spain with the fresh white wall plaster, colorful red roof tiles and the arches everyone was so fond of in this typical architecture. Children should be running around here, playing on the streets, cats and dogs meowing and barking… People should be out and about to do their job, a chore or running an errand, whatever they wanted to do…but there was nothing but chunks of stone, broken support beams, torn tiles and silent destruction.

He checked his watch - early afternoon, surprisingly enough. It felt like they had been on the move for an entire day. Travelling had been slow due to the bad road; his whole body felt numb. They could spare a few minutes to have lunch. He glanced at Heero who parked the car in the shadows of what used to be a church. Duo looked at the building, his braid swinging with every movement. The Royal Palace was their destination as they assumed it held more clues concerning the artifact. It was known for its large – and only – national library, and harboring some kind of shrine with ‘relics and remains from past times’. Duo had no doubt the shrine would only contain some heirlooms, dusty jewelry the Peacecrafts had kept for sentimental value… but who knows, maybe the mysterious shrine held information on the Never-Ending Circle, or was even the home to it. Maybe the second part, the blade, was to be found under the church. Wouldn’t it be highly ironic if the place where the God of Death broke his instrument had become holy ground? Ironic enough to give it a shot.

Duo shook his head. He turned around to see Heero walking towards him, hoisting a shotgun over his shoulder. They were both armed and dangerous, the way they used to be...the way it used to be.

“Let’s go,” he simply said. Duo nodded, apparently Heero wasn’t in the mood for lunch. Taking out an energy bar from one of his many pockets, Duo nibbled on it as they moved up the large steps, towards the doors of the Palace. His eyes took in their surroundings, but he didn’t see any trace of other footsteps - it seemed like they were really the only ones here.

What once was white, had been corroded by time. The walls bore a sickly grey colour, cracked here and there, covered with darkish moss in some spots. Inside, the heavy smell of gathered dust and mold was thick enough to choke on. The frames of the paintings on the walls were chipped and dusty, and the canvas torn and ragged. Duo noticed how the paintings were aligned in historical context, depicting a chronological line of ancient rulers, the respective heads of the Peacecraft family. There was no painting of Milliardo - he’d been too young to assume his position as head of the family, and if they knew of his participation in the war…Not all of the Peacecraft family was dead or broken, Duo mused. Their politics, their beliefs and their traditions were still very much alive. I wonder what would happen if it were all to blow up into Khushrenada’s face, when royalty turns against him and his plan backfires. Duo grinned - Khushrenada might think he held the upper hand, but he might not be holding it much longer.

Heero walked beside him as they crossed the large hall, the ceiling even higher than at Maxwell Manor. Massive amounts of chalk cluttered their way, crunching beneath the thick soles of their boots. There was nothing much to see - some leftover furniture, all but decayed and moulded, dusty and fragile - that was all the grandeur left in the Palace. Standing still for a moment, Heero consulted an old, paper layout of the building before continuing to lead the way. Duo kept an eye on everything, adrenaline pumping to give him a boost when necessary.

The place had been picked clean by thieves and less scrupulous people; the Peacecrafts were rumored to have left the Palace with only a little money and the clothes on their backs, hoping to return when the atrocities of war were over. He barely suppressed a snort. They probably expected to find everything untouched and unspoiled whenever they were to return. Such naïvity must’ve been a bliss.

The large hall ended up in a square room, reminding Duo of the ball room he had seen at the Khushrenada estate. The tiles had faded, and the few carpets left on the floor showed big holes, threads unraveled. An impossibly large table caught his eye immediately, as well as the broken chandelier on top of it, its weight having crushed the wood. Heero mumbled something about this being a dining room for official banquets. He read it off of the map, trying to locate the library.

“The library is downstairs, close to the cellar,” he finally said. “It’s not as large, probably twice the size of your office.”

“What? That’s too small for any library!”

“Apparently, this library wasn’t for books, but for the nation’s records only. Documentation was stored there, and behind the library was the shrine for the artifacts. I can’t make out how large that shrine is. It’s been drawn into the map and then erased, so I’m not sure if these pencil lines are even correct. It’s as if they wanted to indicate it doesn’t exist…yet.”

“Maybe they had plans for constructing a place to store their artifacts,” Duo suggested. “That is, any artifact resembling a weapon. Maybe they never got around to build it.”

Sanq had been known for its lovely art and objects, mostly pottery, manufactured in bright and lively colours. A weapon wouldn’t be crafted by the inhabitants, and certainly not a weapon like a scythe. The kingdom had rejected every kind of weapon, no one would think of putting something like that on display. Heero agreed.

“If the scythe or a part of it would be here, they would’ve kept it separated. Not in their shrine, somewhere different, far away.”

“And if it’s not there, we can at least find another clue if we’re lucky,” Duo added. “Libraries are usually left untouched by thieves. Let’s see if we can make something out of those records.”

The way down to the cellar and library was blocked by the remnants of a huge marble banister, which had crumbled and fallen down. Duo scratched the back of his head pensively. As usual, he had explosives with him, but it wasn’t his intention to use it for every minor setback; dynamite was mostly a last ditch effort. Heero noticed his reluctant look, not really keen on using explosives either. They could bring the entire Palace down with just one explosion, no matter how small; this was a delicate location.

“Maybe we can reach the cellar and library another way,” he suggested. “The layout isn’t really clear. Placing charges would just be a luck of the draw, and we’d do more harm than good.”

“Any charge could bring this whole building down,” Duo said superfluously, kicking at a pebble. “It wouldn’t exactly help us to get the roof on our heads.”

Heero heaved as sigh and tried to estimate the weight and size of the broken marble. It was impossible to climb over it, and removing it was not an option: not only would it take too much time, marble was far too heavy for the two of them. He consulted the paper layout again, patiently.

“Hmmm…I think there’s another way. A shaft in the kitchen, a handy elevator structure to bring up food and stock from the cellar to the upper floors.”

“All right, let’s go for it,” Duo agreed. He squinted a little, mentally noting that the sun was already going down. In this type of countries the sun would set real fast, it was almost overwhelming. At the moment there was enough light, shining through all the cracks and holes in the Palace walls. It was easy to find the kitchen, but Duo checked his flashlight anyway. The batteries would last for hours and he had a spare pack with him. If there was one thing that Solo had taught him, it was to be prepared for anything, and to be prepared well. It was Duo’s own fault to be rather lax, though he would never forget his essentials: his Uzis and his flashlight.

“The kitchen,” Heero announced. Duo coughed a few times, dust and chalk acting on his throat. He tilted his head a little, staring blankly at Heero who studied the map. He still hadn’t mentioned anything about his meeting with Chang - what exactly was he hiding, and why didn’t he confide in him? What are you hiding from me? It hurt. Annoyedly, he pursed his lips. He wasn’t a small child anymore, and if it wasn’t for Heero’s superior physical strength, he would so deck him. Maybe he simply should, to get a reaction out of him. Abruptly, Duo turned around. Khushrenada was not going to be the last one laughing, he wasn’t going to end up with the artifact. Heero or not, Duo had promised the Never-Ending Circle to Quatre Winner. He had taken his commission to get back into the field and goddamnit, he would get back into the field, even if it would take his life.

The large kitchen, fashionably outdated, was full of setting sunlight due to the extremely large window panes. Despite them all being broken, the remaining shards in the frames reflected the light and converted it into a soft, vintage glow, illuminating the room with a tenderness that was breathtaking. Duo tried to imagine how this kitchen looked like in its glory days - busy, filled with people working hard to provide their royal family and guests with the most delicious of foods. There was a sadness lingering here, or maybe only Duo was the one feeling it…Heero was looking diligently for the elevator and found it behind a cracked panel. Prying it open, he turned on his flashlight and stuck his head into the shaft, trying to gauge the altitude.

“It looks quite sturdy,” he muttered. He shifted a little, groping around with his hands to find the ropes of the pulling mechanism.

Duo came to stand close to him, putting his hand on a large winch, rusted all the way through. “If we use this, we can simply bring back up the elevator?”

“It’s worth a try, though it probably won’t take our weight - it was used to transport foods and stock, not humans.”

“Who knows, maybe it’s strong enough. The shaft looks rather roomy to me.”

“All right, let’s give it a try.”

They both tried to get the mechanism to work, but eventually they had to give up, especially after the winch came loose from the wall and fell to the floor, too rusted to even budge.

“It’s stuck,” Duo confirmed. “We have to use the ropes to get down.” He flexed his fingers, knowing that the material of his gloves would be able to deal with any kind of rope or cable. Heero simply nodded, but reached for his backpack first to take out his own gloves. He strapped his flashlight onto his right shoulder, fastening it with velcro so it wouldn’t move, leaving his hands free as he put his gloves on. He swung his legs over the edge and squirmed a little.

“Not as roomy as you think,” he commented and grabbed the ropes.

“All right, let’s go!”

He started to climb down, followed by Duo, who had mimicked his earlier movement and had also strapped his flashlight to his shoulder. They managed to work their way down rather fast, the ropes still in a surprisingly good condition to support them on their way down. Heero waited for Duo before moving on, his flashlight immediately catching the device used to pull up the supplies, standing outside the shaft, demolished by rubble.

“That’s the reason why we couldn’t move it.”

“It wasn’t even in the shaft. Strange,” Duo said. “The Palace wasn’t attacked from the inside, was it?”

“I don’t think so. This could simply be something completely unrelated to the war…maybe a clumsy servant, or it was taken out for repairs…”

“Hm,” Duo made a non-committal sound.

“I haven’t studied Sanq history…I only know the things that Relena told me.”

“Relena also gave you the map of the Palace?”

He shook his head, his chocolate brown hair covered in dust and chalk, and he had also picked up some cobwebs in the elevator shaft.

“Relena was too young, she doesn’t remember much. She told me bits and pieces, but not really any revealing information. I bought this layout at an auction, as I collect Sanq valuables for her. I know my way around in that world, she doesn’t.”

“It must be hard to leave your homeland and now it’s all…rubble and destroyed,” Duo said.

“She doesn’t remember much,” Heero repeated, albeit soft. “She’s glad she doesn’t. She can’t miss the memories she doesn’t have, she always says.”

“Smart woman,” Duo whistled.

“We have an artifact to retrieve.”

“Yeah.” Duo increased the volume of his flashlight and looked around. The cellar was huge; rack after wooden rack, empty and rickety. Barrels and boxes were stocked up against the walls, most of the wood ready to crumble under the slightest touch. Baskets with rotten and severely mutated potatoes were strewn all over the floor, huge lumps of mould, and the air felt clamp and stuffy; they both heard the familiar sounds of rats scurrying around. Heero pulled out his map again and studied it, scrunching up his face.

“Whoever drew this map should be shot.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It says that this is the main cellar, connected to a whole maze of other, smaller cellars by a system of confusing hallways. It could leave us walking around for hours on end.”

“Where’s the library?”

“Here,” Heero pointed to the map.

“That’s the first floor! We just got here!”

“Like I said, whoever drew this map should be shot. The library is drawn in on the first floor, but every other map I consulted had the library located close to the main cellar…this one.”

“Well, the Never-Ending Circle isn’t here, that’s for sure,” Duo said, staring at the crates and boxes as if he could see the mould grow. “We’ve retrieved artifacts from more desolate places and with more difficulty than this. It never is too hopeless for us. If we can find the armor of Horus after searching all over Egypt, then we can find a stupid scythe.”

“Absolutely,” Heero agreed, showing a small smile. “Let’s get outside this cellar first.”

“That should be pretty easy,” Duo pointed at the heavy, iron door which was opened at a small crack. “I hope you didn’t have too much for breakfast!”

Squirming their way past the door, Duo touched the walls to find torches or oil lamps, or any trace of electricity. “There’s no illumination here. Oh, wait, wait, here’s a lamp, but it doesn’t look like it’s connected to anything.”

“Thanks to their rather…old-fashioned beliefs, Sanq was late with installing plumbing and electricity, or so it appears,” Heero said. “I doubt that any of the current Peacecrafts would want to return to their Palace even if it would be untouched by the war - everything is so outdated that it would take years and years of renovations to bring it back up to nowadays standards.”

“This system of hallways is pretty complicated,” Duo noted. “It makes good for scaring off burglars and thieves. Why did they keep the library down here?”

“Probably because of the temperature conditions? It’s cool, and they probably thought storing their documents in a cool, stable environment would be the best preservation.”

“I swear the people here were pretty fucking naïve...”

“You can’t blame them, Duo.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m not blaming anyone. They just…blinded themselves with their own backward beliefs, and they paid a very high price for it. Leaving your country and everything you held dear behind isn’t something you do on a daily basis. It’s just that...it’s stupid. If Peacecraft invested a little more in his defence and his military system he would’ve been able to fend off the attack.”

“It was his belief, Duo,” Heero said softly. “His belief to not fight or respond with violence, but to talk and negotiate with people.”

“And look where the negotiations brought him…”

“It would do you some good if you were to take notice of his visions, Duo…”

“Are you saying I need fucking anger management?”

“Sort of,” Heero mumbled and shone with his flashlight to the left. “Let’s go to the east. The library should be across here somewhere. We can’t keep walking around to see if we can find it at random. The system of hallways is far too complicated, we’d be down here for days.”

“Where would they keep their secret stash?” Duo said, a little mockingly. He was anxious for Heero to start talking about Chang, and he was building up anger that the subject of his annoyance was painstakingly avoided..or rather, ignored.

“Secret stash?”

“If you’re a peace-loving nation with no weapons whatsoever, where would you keep an artifact that clearly represents death and destruction? That is, if they didn’t destroy it at first sight?”

“I doubt they would destroy it, despite what it represents,” Heero answered calmly. “The habitants of Sanq respected their history too much for mindless destruction.”

“That doesn’t exactly mean they embraced their history,” Duo shot back. “Do you really think they would want to keep an instrument of death right under their pacifistic noses? They had somehow the tool of the God of Death in their possession, if what Howard deducted from the staff is true. It belongs to the Peacecraft’s history and past because it has Sanq’s markings on it.”

“It would be devastating for the people still attached to Sanq, for those who passed all their history and knowledge about the country down to the next generations,” Heero said.

“They’re only adding to the legends and myths,” Duo breathed harshly. “Within a century, every one of the Peacecraft will be nothing but saints! Despite everything, the country will be crawling with treasure hunters, uncaring for nature and the wildlife, and there’ll probably be rumors about how Excalibur can be found here, for all that it’s worth.”

“Yes, and we use those rumors and legends to hunt for artifacts ourselves, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Duo waved with his hand and heaved a small sigh. “To the east it is, then.”

They found the library soon enough and intact, to both their relief. Heero opened the heavy wooden door and peeked inside. A few rats quickly scattered as they entered - Duo didn’t fancy a rat bite, and checked the library thoroughly while Heero breezed past the large racks filled with documents.

“It’s all loose paperwork,” he said. “Nothing in binders, nothing written down in catalogues… it’ll take ages to work our way through this.”

“Any way of narrowing it down?” Duo asked, getting used to the hollow echo to his voice. He choose a few wads of paper randomly and studied them before concluding that it was an overview of invoices, paid in a year he couldn’t make out.

“This is nonsense…we made it all the way out here to look for an artifact and we’re caught in paperwork.”

“Duo, the only way for us to find any clue is to check whatever’s down here. You wouldn’t want to miss any more information about the Never-Ending Circle because you’re too impatient to carefully search for it, now would you?”

“Impatient my ass,” Duo grumbled. “You said yourself that there was a room behind the library drawn into this map.”

“Which is not entirely accurate…?”

“Get me your thing…”

“What thing?”

“That thing that measures the density of the walls,” Duo said. “I know you have it with you - you packed more of your electronics than you did food, you moron.”

“Hey, there’s no need for name calling!”

“Give it to me, sweetheart,” Duo batted his eyes at him and Heero sighed melodramatically.

“Sometimes I think you have the mood swings of a girl, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m entitled to - you were always the man in our relationship.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with top or bottom…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Here,” Heero pressed the small device into Duo’s hand. “Use it, and let me study these papers, okay?”

“Okay doll,” Duo answered and switched the density meter on, grinning briefly at Heero before he started walking past the walls, halting every now and then. Hollow rooms were nothing new in their line of business - they had found artifacts in the weirdest places. Duo checked the readings on his screen; this was all solid rock, and he started to believe he might’ve had the wrong idea. He slowly made his way around the library - Heero had been right, it wasn’t that large and it held no books, just rows and rows of rolled up papers, tied together with tiny ropes. Everyone in Sanq would probably have a heart attack when computers would be introduced, Duo thought to himself as he halted in front of the north wall, and his eyes widened in surprise when he checked the reading.

“Bingo! Hollow room,” he said out loud.

Heero turned towards him. “Really?”

“Check it out,” Duo answered, holding out the density meter. There was a small wooden rack in front of the north wall, loaded with those typically rolled up papers. It wouldn’t be too much work to get this out of the way, but he waited for Heero’s confirmation first.

“You’re right, this isn’t the consistency of rock,” Heero said and he took the flashlight from his shoulder, shining it along the wall. “They did a very good job…see? There’s the seam…I take it back, it’s an excellent job.”

“Let’s get this thing out of the way.” Duo grabbed the rack, tugging at it. Heero helped him to move the furniture, shoving it aside.

Touching the damp wall, Duo traced the seam of the door opening, and knocked a few times on it. “It hardly sounds hollow. I didn’t know the people of Sanq were so adept at constructing hidden rooms like this.”

“There must be some mechanism to open it. Check for switches, levers… anything irregular.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Duo replied and moved with his hand, touching and checking the wall for anything that could trigger the door. Frowning, they worked towards each other, meticulously examining the surface.

“I can’t find anything.”

Heero shone with his flashlight on the wall, obviously lost in thought. Duo heaved a sigh, taking a sip of water. They had been at work for the whole day, and he hadn’t eaten a thing since the energy bar.

“Heero, sit down, eat something. We’re staring ourselves blind.”

“All right.” He sounded tired. “I guess we can do with a little break.”

“We aren’t exactly in a hurry, you know. Or are you afraid someone is after you already?”

“I’m not afraid of anyone coming after me.”

“You sound incredulous.”

“I am. What makes you think I’m afraid of anything coming after me?”

“Since you were pretty worried about Khushrenada earlier.”

Heero snorted, taking some of his provisions out of his backpack. “Khushrenada doesn’t worry me. The fact that he’s toying with powers that are way above and beyond him worries me.”

“Really, now…” Duo stared at him while he took another sip. Come on Heero, I’ve given you plenty enough opportunity to start talking about it…

“How are we to open the entrance?” Heero sighed, unscrewing his own bottle of water. “I can’t find a mechanism, and there wasn’t a lever on your side either. I suggest we start searching the room, it can’t be far off. Otherwise we have to think of more drastic measures to get it open.”

“As you wish,” Duo said and nibbled at another energy bar. They tasted like wet cardboard, but each one of them provided sufficient energy and nutritional value for an adult. Neither Heero nor Duo had room in their backpacks for full kitchen gear, and cooking was out of the question. They enjoyed their ‘dinner’ in silence, gathering the wrappers of the bars and stuffing it into a side pocket of their backpacks; no need to start littering the place.

“All right, let’s tackle the door!” Heero stood up and turned around, taking a few paces towards the north wall again. Duo was about to follow him and put his foot in front of the other - and was almost thrown off guard as the floor started to move.

“Wh-what?”

Heero remained standing, hands flying to his shotgun, a primal reaction, as his eyes darted through the room, scanning for danger.

“An earthquake?” Duo quickly followed Heero’s example, though guns wouldn’t help them if it really was an earthquake.

“The…it’s the floor,” Heero said, noticing how his left foot was sinking away. “A panel! We stepped on panels..!”

“Is the door opening?”

Heero growled. “Yes, it’s opening! Can you make it through?”

“What happens if I… Jesus!”

A large chunk of concrete dropped from the ceiling, missing Duo by a millimetre, and he jumped to the side, yelping out loud.

“Fuck!”

“The door is closing again!”

“Run!”

Duo grabbed Heero by the shoulder in passing - he had yet to be beaten in running, and he had often saved his life and that of others by simply being as fast as possible. There was only one time he hadn’t been fast enough. No! It wasn’t his fault! Not allowing himself any time to think about it, Duo yanked at Heero to keep him moving, hurling him through the closing door now that it wasn’t triggered any more by the pressure pads.

“We made it,” Heero wheezed, almost falling to the ground. He had to catch his breath - not from the exertion, but from the momentary surge of adrenaline running through his body. The door closed behind them, sealing them off from the library. It was pitch black but for the beams of light coming from their flashlights.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Heero said. “I hate it when there’s no logical or rational way to open a door, though.”

“The mechanism is hidden well but we would’ve found the pressure pads eventually.”

“Yeah, and you would’ve been crushed.” Heero shook his head.

“Classic safety precaution.” Duo shrugged. “Thieves in front of a temple…it only shows that we’re getting close. Whatever there’s behind this, it was worth the trouble of devising a trap to protect it.”

“You’re right.” Heero straightened himself again. “We’re on the right track, and we should’ve known there would be some kind of trap. There’s always some kind of trap.”

“Even the pacifistic Peacecrafts thought of traps,” Duo said, suddenly amused. “It doesn’t fit with their principles, however…that was quite the sign of violence, dropping a block of concrete on one’s head when trying to open a door.”

Heero chuckled, his voice echoing. “Maybe the family didn’t know, and this was constructed before their time…I do agree, it is quite the sign of violence to drop a block of concrete on your visitors.”

“Unwanted visitors,” Duo remarked dryly.

“True. Still…a block of concrete?”

“I always thought that a pool of igniting oil was more effective…”

“India, right?”

“The temple of Hyderabad,” Duo mused briefly and a smile was visible on his lips. “I thought we were done for, until you found that ledge we could hold on to.”

“I found that ledge, but you found the way into that temple in the first place. We make a good team, Duo.”

His smile turned a little wider, but he didn’t pursue the topic. “Let’s see where this corridor leads to, and what more nifty traps our shrewd family had installed.”

Adjusting the flashlight on his shoulder again, Duo could make out that the corridor was rather small, barely fitting two people next to each other. Leading the way, he went step by step, careful for any more pressure pads. Heero was right behind him, following his lead.

“It seems like we’re going down,” Duo mentioned after a while. The air in the corridor was damp and heavy just like in the cellar and the library - no one had been here in ages. He didn’t keep count of all the cobwebs getting tangled in his hair; his braid swung loosely on his back, catching a lot of the dust. Heero nodded, even though Duo couldn’t see it.

“It also seems that there’s a lot more hidden below the Palace than one could ever presume.”

Duo snickered. “That’s not much of a surprise now, is it? We’ve seen so much already, that hidden doors and secret passages are a standard routine in our work.”

“No end to this corridor in sight yet?”

“Now that you mention it…”

Duo halted, his flashlight shining on a door. “I think we stumbled upon it… it looks like a safe.”

Heero squirmed past him to get a good look, frowning.

“No apparent lock or handle…it’s carved out of the same stone. Unless we find the right mechanism to trigger it, there’s no other way we can force it open,” he said.

Duo inspected the large door, extending his hand to touch the surface. There were four receptacles in the middle, with the edges chipped off.

“Some kind of bolt was here,” he murmured. “Probably the weight was the decisive factor for the door to open.”

“Is there some way we can simulate the weight?” Heero looked down. “There’s more than enough rock and rubble at our feet.”

“Let’s hope weight is the trigger to this door,” Duo said out loud. Using the flashlight again, he looked around, at his feet. “This looks like the original bolt. See the carving of the stone? It’s like it was placed onto the receptacles…”

“… and immediately smashed into pieces,” Heero finished his sentence.

“Were they afraid of what’s behind this door?”

“Who knows…maybe there is something behind this door that even will strike fear in us,” Heero said before bending down and gathering some of the rocks.

“Who knows, indeed…?” Duo kneeled down as well, and together they lifted up a chunk of the bolt, its weight too heavy for one man to carry.

Stapling everything they could find together, Duo felt every muscle in his body protest after the physical exertion. Heero was breathing heavily next to him, focused on the task at hand.

“One more piece…we have to put everything together, if we created enough weight on the receptacles it should open by now.”

“It’s not really cooperating,” Duo sighed, placing one of the last pieces he found onto the receptacle. He barely had finished his sentence as a loud clank echoed throughout the small corridor.

“What?”

“Is the door opening?”

“Careful!”

Heero took a step back. “It’s opening, yes…get back!”

Obediently, Duo took a step back, keeping an eye on the door that was drawn up like a gate, unlike the hidden door in the library. As his flashlight shone down, Duo immediately noticed the smoke coming through the cracks, curling around their ankles.

“What the hell? Heero!”

“It must be some kind of gas,” Heero said. “It’s another trap!”

“There’s no ventilation here,” Duo yelled, quickly digging around his backpack for a piece of cloth to tie around his nose and mouth. “Fucking figures!”

“We have to hurry…we don’t know what kind of gas this is!”

The white smoke crept up around their legs, its tendrils swirling through the air. Duo finished tying the cloth around his face, leaving only his eyes uncovered - hopefully the gas wasn’t acid, but he was already feeling light-headed, and Heero started to cough violently. Mind working at top speed, Duo ran past all their options: he had a first aid kit with him, but that wouldn’t help against something as elusive as gas. If the door opened fast enough, they could slip under it and get away from the smoke…

“Hold on, Heero! The door is almost open…hold on!” Another metal clank was heard, and Heero almost collapsed, coughing wildly. Duo wrapped his arms around him to keep him upright, despite his own body trembling. Heero latched at him, fingers digging into his arms for support. Duo moved forwards, taking Heero with him, all but dragging him through the opening, yelling at him to hold on. The door was lifted up slowly by a rattling mechanism, outdated and rusty, and if they had to wait one minute longer in this corridor they would suffocate from the smoke.

“Come on,” Duo growled and pushed Heero through the opening, forcing him on his knees to crawl forward. He was coughing himself, eyes slowly starting to tear - what the hell was this kind of gas anyway? - and his vision started spinning. Blinking, willing himself to stay focused, he crawled after Heero, underneath the door.

“Water,” Heero mumbled and blindly searched for his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking careful sips, moistening his lips. Duo mimicked his gesture, unable to unscrew the cap right away because of his trembling fingers. They couldn’t afford to stay here, not with the lingering smoke - Duo only took a few sips and licked the droplets off of his lips, using the moment to get his mind clear again.

There wasn’t much difference between the corridor they left and the one they were facing just now, with the exception that this one was absolutely a dead end. Nothing but a spiral staircase leading into…a dark pit in front of them, and angry curling smoke with whatever health hazard behind them.

“I guess this is what keeps the excitement going, right?” Duo grinned half-heartedly, adjusting the position of the flashlight once again. Heero didn’t comment, obviously collecting his bearings, coughing now and then. He brusquely wiped off the tears on his cheeks, his eyes irritated from the gas, and his breathing still was uneven. There wasn’t much of a choice left for them.

“We have to move.” Duo nudged him, resulting into a sharp nod and another coughing fit. Heero didn’t comment on Duo going down first - the moment they worked together again they had fallen back into their old routine of taking the lead and following, guiding and examining, alternating and switching whenever the situation asked for it. They had never established a pattern beforehand; it just…came naturally to them.

Moving away from the gas, Duo started descending the stairs. The steps were carved out of stone and were ridiculously small; he lost track of counting them, and he lost track of time. Deeper and deeper down it went, in his imagination they were approaching the center of the Earth by now. The walls became even narrower as they progressed, and it was a good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic. The rubber soles of their boots made no noise on the stairs, and it went down and down and down…endlessly down.

“I wonder where we’re going to end up,” Duo finally said, his voice sounding muffled. Slightly annoyed, he pulled the cloth he had wrapped around his head down, repeating his words.

“I wouldn’t know,” Heero answered him, his voice hoarse and raspy. The strange smoke they encountered earlier hadn’t been poisonous, but Duo was wary of the consequences. As soon as they had finished their business here, he wanted to have both of them examined by a doctor.

“Whatever has been buried here, they wanted it to be hidden extremely well.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Duo said, and he shivered from the excitement. They were getting close now, at the brink of a new discovery - even if it would end up a dead lead, even if they wouldn’t find a thing, it was the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the game. Suddenly his foot touched the ground, and he stumbled forward.

“Holy shit! I touched the ground!”

“Finally,” Heero heaved a melodramatic sigh, coughing again. His calves hurt from the monotonous movement and he shook his legs, flexing his muscles.

He swung his flashlight around, shivering from the cold. His clothing wasn’t of the same material as what Hilde had invented for Duo, and the temperature had dropped significantly along the way down.

“There’s no other path to take then what’s right in front of us,” he said. Duo was checking the GPS, trying to calculate where they were.

“South and southwest…” He clicked with his tongue. “I think we’re almost literally in the heart of the country.”

Sanq wasn’t that large, and the Palace was the heart of the capital, built on the geographical center of the nation. He opened his mouth to say something again, but closed it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Duo said, tugging at his braid. Heero threw him a quizzical look. He seemed to be fine again after breathing in the strange smoke, and was eager to continue their expedition, especially now that both were feeling that they were getting close. He waited until Duo would continue talking, but when he remained silent he simply turned around to follow the small corridor. Sounds were deceptive, especially so deep underground…Duo told himself that he imagined hearing a strange sound. Get in, get the artifact, get out again. That was the only thing that mattered right now.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Naruto, Hugs and Kisses, Ino/Sakura

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 17:30:25 GMT

Title: Hugs and Kisses, I love You
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Yamanaka Ino/Haruno Sakura
Genre: slight romance, a little sappy, some angst
Length: 1.851
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Konoha is empty without the presence of two certain people who left everything behind, one even to pursue the other…but life goes on, though emotions and feelings don’t change just as easily.
Author’s note: for haku_kaen’s request for Valentine’s day event at fic_on_demand.

-------------------------------

At the end of the day, the Yamanaka flower shop would be sold out of their entire stock of fresh flowers. They were renowned for the high quality of their bouquets, and there was no one who knew more of the meaning behind flowers than Yamanaka Ino herself. She had the uncanny, unrivaled intuition to pick out the right flowers for her customers, perfectly matching their intentions; sometimes with a little nudge or wink: Ino was also quite curious.

As usual, she was sweeping the floor and cleaning up to prepare the store for tomorrow’s arrival of new stock, and she made sure to rinse the vases, scrubbing the rims. The only thing left to do was to swipe the counter, lock down the register and take the money out for safekeeping at home. There wasn’t much criminality in Konoha due to the high concentration of shinobis, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ino was hungry; by the time she’d be done at the store, her mother would’ve finished dinner. Just in time! She was really in the mood for something to eat, it had been a busy day…there was only one customer left and maybe it was impolite to already start cleaning up in her presence, but Haruno Sakura always dawdled at the end of the day and Ino had stopped thinking of her as a customer a long time ago.

She had advised the girl what kind of flower to buy when Sasuke had been hospitalized, but Sakura hadn’t spend another ryou in the shop since… since forever. Sasuke had left, and she had never bothered to buy flowers for her other teammate, Naruto, who had also left. Both of them were gone, off in search for one another..in search for that what they needed to gain, to become. Stronger, tougher, better…because only men thought in terms of strength, of pure raw power, and not in terms of endearment, emotions.

What were her emotions at seeing Sakura dawdling at the shop, when everyone else had left, when there were no flowers left? She wasn’t feeling sadness or pity. Sakura wasn’t to be pitied. Her eyes were lively, brilliant even, and her lips were curled up in a smile, not wistful, but vibrant. She stood up straight, not slouching, and her voice was filled with genuine concern or happiness, depending on the situation.

She could’ve fooled everyone. Anyone. She was fooling everyone. Ino knew better. Naruto knew better, but he wasn’t here now to say something about it. He made her a promise of a lifetime, to bring Sasuke back…back to Konoha, where he belonged. Where he would accept flowers from her, and this time, without his usual grunt, but in gratitude.

Who was she fooling but herself? How could she judge Sakura for fooling everyone, when she all but did the same? Sakura was no fool. She did what she had to do, to survive, to gon with her life. She didn’t have the time to stand still and pine over him, far away, far out of her reach - it was no secret that she was training under the Fifth Hokage, and Tsunade-sama was known for her rigid methods. Maybe that was all that was keeping her together - her training, her study of medical ninjutsu, the lack of time to keep thinking of Naruto, just as much as Ino was putting so many hours into working at her parents’ store to forget about Sasuke. Forget? No, she could never forget. Her mind was taken off of it, his defection, his betrayal… she shuddered lightly. He was an S-rank missing-nin now, and who knew what was happening to him, what he was doing…

It was hard to define her feelings, it was hard to read Sakura’s feelings. For all that they had picked up their friendship again, rekindled it after the Chuunin exams, it would be a lie to say that their relationship was smooth and effortless. There was this strain, this constant presence of tension, and Ino wasn’t sure if it was because of Sasuke, or Naruto… she was just working at the store, training with her father in-between to perfect her mind-transfer-technique. Every now and then she went on a mission with her teammates, but ever since Suna and Konaha were allies again instead of adversaries, it had been quite peaceful between the nations.

Everyone was growing and aging. Ino knew she wasn’t as strong as others. She would never surpass Sasuke, Naruto, Lee, any of the Hyuuga’s, or maybe Sakura, for that matter. Their Chuunin exam was settled into a draw. If they were to repeat it right now, Ino wasn’t so sure if that would happen again…and she didn’t like to be a loser. She had her own specialties, just like everyone else. She had accepted that they were still rivals, but friendly-rivals in an ironic kind of way, not the bitter rivals they used to be when they were still fighting for Sasuke’s attention.

“Sakura,” her voice rang out, “it’s almost time.” Just a few more minutes before she would actually leave the store. For some reason, Sakura always acted in the store as if she had all the time in the world, her composure calm and collected. She was turning towards Ino, who knew and expected what was coming - a brief hug. They had developed this small gesture in the recent months, quite extraordinary for two people who didn’t have the best of friendships with each other, let alone touchy-feely personalities. The other girl had been the one to take the initiative; she had simply slipped her arms around Ino, breaking up the hug as quickly as she had initiated it. Ino had blinked, dumbfounded, and Sakura had left with a wave of her hand, smiling, wishing her a good evening.

Strange, Sakura was holding her arms up high instead of… Ino saw that she was holding a small bouquet of roses and wondered briefly when Sakura had actually picked them. She was so used to see Sakura in the store that she barely paid attention to what she was doing. Funny how people could make the transition to other rituals so soon, strange that people were strong enough to bounce back no matter what happened, sad that life went on as if nothing had happened…and the mind was still stuck in the past, thinking of the loved ones that had left.

Times were different now. Sasuke was gone, Naruto was gone. Sakura and Ino weren’t the girls they used to be during the Chuunin exams anymore. Time had moved on and stood still for them at the same moment. What had changed about Sakura, dawdling in the store with a bunch of roses pressed against her chest, as she had dawdled here before, carefully picking out daffodils? She kept her worries to herself, making everyone believe that no, she wasn’t pining over Sasuke or Naruto, making all of Konoha think she was a strong girl, on her way to become a strong woman, capable and independent.

They would both step up when duty called, but would they both step up if their heart…called out?

“How often do you think about him?”

The question shouldn’t have taken her aback, but Ino carefully waited with her answer until she knew her voice wouldn’t crack. It was a weak spot, not likely to heal up anytime soon.

“Not much,” she lied. “People move on.”

Sakura showed her smile again, but this time it was different. A knowing smile. I know you’re a fool. I know I’m a fool.

“You’re growing your hair again.”

As if stung, Ino moved her hand up to touch the long strands, her fingers raking the blond tresses. She didn’t flinch or blush; she knew Sakura had simply stated the truth.

“I just like my hair long.” Voice curt this time, and her fingers clenched around her broom. Did she really think she could defend herself against Sakura with something as weak as a broom? How could she defend herself against words anyway?

“I miss him so much.” Sakura’s voice sounded smothered, thick. She kept staring at Ino, the roses still clutched in her arms. The thorns are scratching her bare arms. Ino bites her lip. It’s been so long, and even though she was never a member of Team Seven, it still feels personal. She never had the opportunity to be up close and personal with Sasuke like Sakura had, but is it really Sasuke the other girl is talking about? It confused her, and the broom shifted around in her hand, almost dropping it.

The next second, Sakura wrapped her arms around her. Ino never saw her move and she almost flinched, gasping in shock. Did they really have much of a chance? To be with any of them, those who went away, those who had left them? Could it still be an infatuation, or a lingering fragment of what once used to be love? Another shiver, and Sakura tightened her hold on her. Another gasp, for breath.

“They will be back.” Her voice held the confidence she wasn’t feeling at the moment. Would they? Would they really come back to this, this place, after all they had gone through? Ino shook her head. This is Konoha. A ninja is tied to their country, to their city. She would always come back here. To home. To the flower shop. To Sakura.

It hardly mattered who started it. The modest, chaste hug in the beginning was what it all started, but as the rose petals caressed Ino’s face, she knew that it was another step, another moment in time. Away from Sasuke perhaps, but closer to her friend again. Her friend who cut her hair short to escape an enemy’s grasp, her friend who was prepared to give her life and everything more, just to keep him next to her, close to her.

In a way, they’re both losers and fools, even though they would never say it out loud. How much loss is there, if there’s still the chance that he’ll return? They’ll both return? The lights have died in the store, her mother hadn’t called out for dinner yet, but Ino is on the floor, her breasts exposed to the chilly temperature of the empty store, but she won’t be feeling any of the cold. Sakura’s lips, warm as melted honey, pressing against her skin, is taking every chill away. The roses are strewn everywhere, the petals raining on her bare abdomen.

She used to call her ugly, and made fun of her wide forehead.

She used to call her ‘Ino-pig”, and ignored her.

Sakura rolled over, on the floor, tugging Ino on top of her, her quick fingers snapping the tie of her ponytail, and the long strands flow over her shoulders.

“I like long hair too,” she muttered as both her hands moved up to cup her breasts, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin.

“I’ll grow it much longer,” she answered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

End

-----------------------------------

Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle, Duo/Heero, part 6

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 09:04:38 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence.
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Key: ----------- = scene change

----------------------

A live orchestra provided the background music in the restaurant. Pleasant, but not really his taste. Even though he knew his classics, Duo never cared for it, unless it was combined with heavy metal. He hoped that Quatre hadn’t reserved a table too close to the orchestra, as he wasn’t in the mood for violins howling in his ear. Heero walked next to him with his usual confidence. His face carried a neutral expression, though his eyes darted over to Duo a few times more than was necessary. A waiter guided them to the reserved table, guest list in hand.

Quatre immediately rose when he saw them, glancing briefly at Heero in surprise, before extending his hand to Duo.

“Duo, so good to see you!”

“I’m sorry for any inconvenience,” Duo said, adding a “Quatre” a few moments later. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. Mister Barton, how are you doing?”

“Fine, thank you,” the other muttered. He didn’t look very happy - Duo almost took pity on him. He could only imagine the amount of work the personal assistant had to do to squeeze this last-minute lunch in Quatre’s already extremely busy schedule.

“You said you had news about the Never-Ending Circle. No trouble is too much for hearing any news on it, especially since you said you couldn’t discuss this on the phone.”

Duo nudged Heero. “Quatre, this is Heero Yuy.”

“Ah, the one we couldn’t reach,” Quatre said, beaming at the both of them. “Did you enjoy your trip in the Himalayas, Mister Yuy?”

“It was very refreshing,” Heero said dryly. Quatre made an inviting gesture with his hand.

“Please, sit down.”

Duo preferred to break the latest news about the artifact to Quatre in person, but not in the CEO’s office. He suspected it might be bugged, and Khushrenada already had too much of a head start to get more information handed to him on a silver platter. As he sat down, the waiter popped up at his side to ask for his choice of drink. After settling on the menu - Duo was hungry as he skipped breakfast after all the events of the previous night - he focused his attention on Quatre.

“You probably wonder why I brought Heero with me,” Duo started. It hadn’t surprised him in the least to see Heero still around at the Manor, despite telling him explicitly to get lost. Deep down in his heart, he was thankful for Heero staying, even though he hadn’t said it out loud. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but not really…friendly either. It felt weird and awkward. “After all, you know everything about our unfortunate break-up.”

Quatre nodded, not wanting to admit that he was quite curious. He was a renowned business man with quite the influence, but he wasn’t inhuman. He was also known for his empathy towards people around him, even to his business partners. Quatre was far too strong to be taken advantage of, but he was the one to think first of the social and human factor when negociating another business takeover or merge. W.E.I. was focused on the employees and their human capital, and even in the worst of times, the company looked for reasonable solutions instead of firing people without thought or consideration. It was conveniently forgotten that Quatre had set up an international business in just a few years, expanding rapidly and progressing on the electronics and technology market. They only saw his bright smile and blue eyes - but his strong point was his diplomatic character and his stern belief that he did his business by cooperating with people, not waltzing over them. Quatre was someone who dug himself into something with the same ferocity as Duo was passionate about history and artifacts - something they had in common.

“The answer is simple,” Duo continued. He was stubborn, but not stupid. It might be a blow to his pride, but Duo knew when to ask for help. “As you mentioned in your first conversation with me, the case with the artifact is growing over my head.”

Quatre heaved a soft sigh. “I thought it might, because of Khushrenada’s involvement,” he said. “Though I hoped for a swift…conclusion to it all.”

“Khushrenada isn’t even the biggest danger,” Duo dropped his bomb. “Romefeller is behind it.”

Silence. Both Quatre and Trowa were mulling over his words, and just as Quatre was about to speak, their dishes were served. As the waiters occupied themselves with everything on the table, setting the plates, refilling drinks and bustling about, Duo took a slice of the garlic bread and nibbled on it. When the waiters left, Quatre sipped his tea before addressing Duo.

“You mean the Romefeller Foundation? I thought they were a harmless society for promoting historical knowledge and re-enactment of the Victorian lifestyle.”

“Khushrenada is simply one of their pawns,” Heero supplied, stirring his soup. The silver spoon hit the rim of the porcelain bowl. “They’re active in every field imaginable, and as they’ve been pursuing political goals recently, I wouldn’t keep them from planning to take over the world.”

Duo took over. “We’re not really sure why they would want the Never-Ending Circle, but...” he paused for a moment to look at Heero, “…Romefeller desires power and influence. A good friend of Heero was involved, and it looks like a hornet’s nest: a conflict of interests, personal gain, blackmail…and I’ve experienced myself that they don’t like to be thwarted. They have the power and the means to look for the second part of the artifact, now that they have the staff already.”

Quatre laced his fingers together, ignoring his salad. “I see…and Romefeller is looking for the Never-Ending Circle to stress their ambitions, to gain power? I don’t see the connection.”

“Your father unearthed an artifact which he hoped would bring him fame, and restore his good name,” Duo said, tapping with the piece of bread on the table. “Instead, he unintentionally opened a cesspool filled with shit that stinks to high heaven.”

Trowa stopped eating.

“The discovery of the staff close to Cuba was all over the media, and led to the sudden - and unwanted - exposure of a training facility of the so-called White Fang movement,” Heero said. “A man called Quinze was their leader. The facility was dismantled, and all of Quinze’s plans and designs for new mobile suits, as well as his personal journal detailing his coup for the independency of the colonies, were destroyed.”

“I remember that,” Quatre said. “It’s been so long ago, I was too young to really see the big picture at that time. I do know that Earth and the colonies escaped a bitter, hard war. Again.”

“White Fang is tied to the Romefeller Foundation.” Heero dropped his bomb. “I can’t disclose everything due to the…delicate parties involved, but I’ve seen and heard enough to know that they share mutual interest and are partners at certain levels. I don’t know enough yet to determine the intensity and level of their contact..”

“Hey wait a minute,” Duo said, almost choking on a walnut. “You never told me that!”

Trowa looked from one to another. “Romefeller, White Fang… I don’t get it, what does a rebel faction have to do with the search for an artifact?”

“White Fang doesn’t care for archaeology,” Heero snorted. “They only care for money and weapons, while claiming they fight for the independency of the colonies. My personal opinion is that they are selling themselves out to the highest bidder, and wage war for whoever wants to disturb the fragile peace between Earth and the colonies.”

Quatre was astonished. “All because of my father digging up an artifact close to Cuba?”

“I’m sorry,” Duo said. “It seems your father has been used in a weird, complicated game. He’s been moved around like a pawn to fulfill certain other people’s selfish needs. His money and research has been used by Khushrenada and the Romefeller Foundation to locate the artifact, and if his death was a murder, as you believe…then he was murdered for finding out more than they wanted him to. He simply fulfilled his usefulness to them.”

Quatre drew his lips into a tight line, fingers bending the fork he was holding.

“What about the artifact?” he asked, coldly. His other hand was strangling the napkin as if he could murder the fabric. No matter how friendly and empathic Quatre Winner was, personally and in business - he wasn’t going to lose this particular game, and whoever was responsible for murdering his father, was going to answer to him. In excruciating detail.

Duo brought the others up to date, including the car chase, the shooting and the disappearance of the culprits. He kept an eye on Heero to gauge his reaction when he told about it - where Quatre and Trowa gasped in horror and shock from the violence of the chase, Heero merely stared into the distance. Waiters interrupted him a few times to clear the plates and refill their drinks, while Quatre and Trowa were listening to him in rapt fascination. When he finished, Quatre looked a little taken aback and muttered irritably under his breath.

“My sisters are going to kill me,” he said bitterly. “They made very clear that they didn’t want me to pursue father’s research. It must’ve been their intuition, because I’m almost starting to regret opening this can of worms.”

“White Fang must be behind the car chase,” Heero said, avoiding to look at Duo directly. “It’s exactly their modus operandi, and they have the man power to set up something like this. Romefeller doesn’t want to do the dirty work, of course. They’re too busy with their decadent charity balls.”

“I’m sure your sisters only had the best intentions for you in mind,” Duo answered a little sourly and he frowned at Heero. “I’m sure that no one was expecting this kind of involvement from a rebel faction - why would they? Your father was searching for something he was really interested in, Khushrenada for something he wanted to use.”

“Use how?” Trowa asked. “Discarding Romefeller, Khushrenada and White Fang - it’s just an artifact.”

“Even ‘just an artifact’ can tip the scale to one’s advantage,” Duo said. “Judging from all the trouble Romefeller went through, even hiring outside muscle, the artifact means more to them than just the honor of finding it. A lot of people in the archaeology world are there for the credit of the first find, treasure hunters searching for that one mythical object that has eluded mankind since the dawn of time. Romefeller had Khushrenada working for them who worked for Winner Sr. who did all the research and the funding, and voilá, as soon as both parts were found, they could run off with it, using it for God knows what…and if you know what the Never-Ending Circle means, God certainly knows what you will be doing with it.”

“What does it mean, Duo?” Quatre’s voice still held that distinct chill, though it was not aimed at anyone sitting at the table.

“Actually, Howard was the first to figure it out. He’s a very good friend of mine, and he studied the staff meticulously. He thinks the staff is the handle of a scythe, the instrument of the Grim Reaper.”

Quatre dabbed at his lips with the crumpled, satin napkin. “I remember from my father’s notes that he was referring to a ‘God of Death’ who supposedly lost his tool,” he said. “A very vague and almost-forgotten legend about him wandering the earth and taking care of souls - not by killing them but by guiding them to the afterlife - until mankind discovered how to take one’s life without the God of Death’s intervention. After the first murder was born, the god either lost or broke his scythe.”

“Exactly. Howard found very interesting inscriptions on the lower half of the staff. He didn’t manage to identify it exactly, but he’s convinced it’s an ancient language, as once spoken in Sanq.”

“Sanq?” Trowa almost spat out his tea. “The holy kingdom?”

“That’s one way to name it,” Heero said calmly. “Sanq is being referred to as a holy kingdom in quite a number of tales, but it’s nothing but withered ruins, covered by nature. Hard to get through, it almost has the density of the Columbian jungle.”

“It sounds like you’ve been there before…?” Quatre asked.

Heero merely shrugged, the movement repeated by Duo.

“Sanq is rumored to hold many artifacts, but it’s pretty much overrated. The country is shrouded by so many myths and legends that it’s hard to see the trees for the woods. You have to understand that people made those legends up.” Duo paused to sip of his water before he continued. “Besides, the nation was all but abandoned a little over forty years ago, shot to ruins because of the invading forces. Everything what even looked like an artifact has been plundered and sold all over the world. No one of the royal family took their heirlooms with them as the invasion and evacuation was sudden. That’s where the legends stems from. Rubble left behind, the tragic story of a royal family leaving everything behind to escape from the invaders of their peaceloving kingdom. There’s even a ‘legend’ that the castle of Sanq was built on a veritable treasure trove, but like I said - it’s pretty much overrated.”

“So the staff bears scriptures from Sanq,” Quatre recapped, frowning. “Fascinating.”

“We have reasons to believe we can find more information about the scythe in Sanq, or maybe even find the other part of the Never-Ending Circle there - the blade,” Duo said. “Howard’s busy deciphering the inscriptions, but I doubt he’ll find a useful clue. It’ll probably say ‘property of Shinigami™’ or something like that.”

“Duo,” Heero nudged him.

“In any case, Sanq holds the best options for us now,” Duo said, smiling when he saw Quatre politely hiding a small laugh behind his hand.

“Name whatever you need, and I’ll be sure to provide it,” the CEO was quick to say. “I commissioned you for this, and I’m more than prepared to fund the entire operation. I want that artifact, Duo, and I want Khushrenada to be exposed as the liar and manipulator he is.”

“We retrieve the artifact, the rest is up to you,” Duo said. “That’s the deal.”

“Deal,” Quatre repeated. “And…we, hmmm?” He looked amused. Duo suddenly felt his cheeks flush, as the man was pointedly looking at him and Heero, and he knew what he was thinking.

“Business partners only,” he murmured, and the color burned on his cheeks. Duo Maxwell took great pride in never telling a lie, but sometimes the line between a lie and a twist of the truth was very shady. He realized that he had been talking as ‘we’ during the entire conversation, and his cheeks burned even harder. Quatre sipped the last of his tea and had the audacity to wink at Duo.

“I trust you to split the commission evenly,” he quipped.

--------------------

Duo liked trains; for some reason, he preferred trains over boats or planes. He always felt terribly confined when travelling. A plane was claustrophobic and the food was horrible, and a boat was too slow and too rocky. He preferred action, and despite the steady cadence of the train, lulling him into a strange sense of security and comfort, he still had the feeling that he was really moving, going forward - onwards to a new adventure. He didn’t know why he felt this way - he was used to speed, to get somewhere fast and to throw himself head over heels into the situation. Travelling by train also gave him some time to...mentally prepare, he thought to himself. It would take at least three more hours to reach the border. From there, traveling into Sanq would be impossible with regular vehicles. Hopefully Trowa had been able to arrange for the Land Rover they requested; but Duo trusted Quatre’s ingenious personal assistant.

He supported his head with his hand, looking outside at the passing landscape. Nature was quite luscious around here, with a variety in vegetation only wild growing plants and trees could offer. It would be even more varied and wild when they got closer to Sanq; nature was given free rein there, claiming back the once inhabitated land. Why did no one return after the war was over? Did they want to leave it behind because of the memories tied to it? Just…let it be? Sanq was hard to reach, only adding to the myth. In fact, travelling by train was the only option - flights to and over Sanq territory were forbidden by an international convention, and it was impossible to approach it by sea; the massively huge and steep cliffs and wild forest on that side of the border were unclimbable and impenetrable, offering no openings.

Shifting in his seat, the fabric of his clothing rustled, albeit barely. He had packed several outfits, variations of the basic costume Hilde had designed, using her invention of fabric that protected him against severe temperature changes, was very difficult to rip or torn, and had kevlar-like characteristics: up to a certain point, it would even protect him against the impact of bullets. This particular outfit left a part of his midriff bare, as it was warm enough in the train to show some skin, and he knew Heero liked it. A smile tugged at his lips; it was almost as if no time had passed and he was on the move with Heero, on the road for another expedition. He had to remind himself firmly that this wasn’t the case; Heero worked for Khushrenada, and was willing to work with Duo for whatever reason. He simply hadn’t left and had packed his things to travel along with Duo, and Duo hadn’t protested. It was bothering him that he didn’t know what exactly Heero’s motives were. Was he trying to find and retrieve the Never-Ending Circle alone, or to protect his pretty princess, Relena Peacecraft?

The door to the compartment slid open and Heero entered, carrying a small, plastic tray.

“I thought you might like some coffee,” he said.

Though he had lived his whole life in England, Duo had unmistakably adopted his mother’s American side and influence - he preferred coffee over tea and frankly, he was baffled by the whole British obsession over flavored dishwater. Bah! He showed Heero a grateful smile and took the paper cup from the tray.

“I also brought sandwiches, would you like one?”

“Sure,” Duo said and took one from the tray - ham and cheese, not bad. He carefully unwrapped it, not paying attention to Heero shifting around, finally deciding to put the tray next to him as the table was too small. He picked up his own coffee and sandwich, and followed Duo’s example to stare outside the window.

So familiar, so comfortable…almost the same, but not quite. Duo recalled vividly all the times they went on an expedition - he and Heero, feverishly looking for artifacts, searching for tombs, studying scriptures, riddles and discovering hidden palaces and temples. Good old times…but there was this wall between them now, huge and fragile at the same time. The familiarity and comfort of them being together was overshadowed by awkwardness and distrust. The comfort of their old days, the days they used to work together as partners, friends and lovers, was replaced by a heavy tension of both their previous mistakes and grief still lingering between them. Duo heaved a soft sigh, but kept staring out of the window.

Heero moved his fingers over his watch, synchronizing it. “We’ll be at the border in less than three hours from now,” he said. “From there, we’ll pick up the Land Rover and continue our journey inland.”

“And no rest for the wicked,” Duo replied.

“Huh?”

“We went by car and plane to get here on the train, crossing four time zones at least,” Duo said, taking a bite from his sandwich. “I’m beat.”

“Duo, we need to work quickly,” Heero said.

“Why? As far as we know, Khushrenada doesn’t even know where to look for the second part of the Never-Ending Circle, or did Winner Sr. write more down in his research? After all, I didn’t get to read his notes from the safe.”

Heero shook his head. “Khushrenada didn’t share that kind of information with me, you know. I never got to read it myself. He won’t be exactly happy if he hears about me working together with you, though he’ll probably forgive me for it as long as I end up handing the artifact to him.”

Duo showed a lazy grin as he was eating his sandwich. “He’ll probably think you’re double-crossing him, and will send his men after you. Lucky you!”

“I doubt that,” Heero answered curtly. “Khushrenada is a man for who the end satisfies all means. He wouldn’t care if I worked together with the devil himself. Nevertheless, Duo, this is serious,” he waved with the sandwich wrapper. “He won’t hesitate to send men after me, after you, as soon as we’ve found the scythe. I don’t want to find the Never-Ending Circle for him, but for the both of us.”

“What do you mean, for the both of us?” Duo asked incredulously.

“For who we are. We know how to deal with such artifacts, we respect them and treat them as how they were meant to be treated - I don’t want someone like Khushrenada to end up with a potentially dangerous artifact as the Never-Ending Circle. It could be a weapon of war in his hands…You know how to deal with such objects, or are you really planning on giving it to Winner?”

Duo hesitated. It had been pure financial reasons why he had accepted Quatre’s commission; he’d always played for sports, donating the artifacts to a museum. “As far as Quatre is concerned, he doesn’t care for the artifact itself. He will put it on display for the whole archaeological world to rejoice - all that he wants, is the damn thing to be uncovered, so he can fulfil his father’s legacy and restore his name, crediting him for all the hard work.”

“He shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. He should’ve let it rest. The completion of the artifact will bring up Winner’s name in the papers again, that’s for sure…but besides the good things, the press will certainly be all over the bad things again, magnifying the man’s earlier mistakes. Winner Sr. should be left in peace - he suffered enough from his own naivety, because people shamelessly abused and deceived him. Nothing good about the dead, but leave them to rest.”

Leave them to rest…Duo shivered, though it was far from cold in the train. He wasn’t wearing a coat, as the fabric of his clothing adjusted itself to his body temperature - he was never really cold or warm, but now he felt goosebumps all over his skin.

“Cold?” Heero asked amusedly.

“Sort of,” Duo muttered in return, latching onto the hot coffee, drinking it a little too fast.

“Three more hours to the border,” Heero repeated. “Do you want to take a nap or something?”

“No, I can sleep later,” Duo said. His body felt tired and jetlagged from crossing several time zones, but his mind was clear and bright, not in the mood for resting yet. He kept staring at Heero, the way he was eating and sipping from his coffee, every movement calm and controlled.

“How is she?” he suddenly asked.

Heero almost choked on his coffee, before looking bewildered at Duo. “She?”

“Relena,” Duo answered.

“Relena? What makes you think…?”

“The way she was holding your hand.”

Heero put his coffee down, the look on his face sobering.

“Relena is a good friend, a very good friend. I don’t have any interest in her as a significant other, something I told her pretty early, and she accepted it. It was difficult, because she harbored a crush on me before I had even sorted out for myself what the line between love and friendship was. I’ve known her all my life, Duo, and I wouldn’t want to miss her.”

“You never told me about your high-school sweetheart,” Duo pouted.

He nodded. “It’s true that the intensity of our friendship… well, there’s hardly any intensity, I guess. She has always been my friend and she always will be, but with the nature of her work and the circles of society she moves around in, it’s hard to meet up every so often. We do keep in touch, and it was the first time in three years that we actually saw each other again, at the Romefeller charity ball.”

“Darlian was her father, right? He was killed on L2?”

Heero nodded again. “A fanatic,” he said, talking about the killer, not Darlian. “We lost a good man that day, an honest and respectable negotiator with compassion, advocating for peace in the best way possible. He passed this all on to Relena.”

“When did she figure out she was a Peacecraft instead of a Darlian?” Duo reclined lazily, wrapping his arms behind his head.

“It was after Darlian’s murder,” Heero said. “he died in her arms, telling her with his last breath about her true origins. The Peacecraft family had her adopted because they feared kidnapping, abuse, or a murder attempt…little did they know that Darlian would become a target of fanatics, hoping that the peace negotiations would blow up, literally.”

“That’s really intense,” Duo said. He almost felt ashamed about how moping and jealous he’d been behaving. He decided to change the subject. “Why all this trouble for what is believed to be the mythical weapon of the God of Death?”

“You remember that Cuba incident, right? The training facility that was exposed? That was an unfortunate setback for White Fang. They were preparing a coup, even rebuilding those damn mobile suits! After Quinze’s imprisonment, they quickly relapsed into terrorists for hire. I read some of Quinze’s plans - it was a very careful orchestration of maneuvring people into the right position, moving pawns into the key position of the game he was playing. He could never have pulled it off without Romefeller’s strategic insights. If they are truly aiming for the ultimate takeover, Earth and colonies together, Romefeller and White Fang together would succeed, if it weren’t for the discovery of the training facility and Quinze being imprisoned at the moment.”

“Morons,” Duo grumbled, finishing the last of his sandwich. “Wars and fighting and weapons…”

“If the Never-Ending Circle really works when reunited, it’s a devastating power,” Heero said softly, not letting go of his gaze at Duo. “Though I expect Romefeller only to use it as their status symbol, in a display of their power, I’m fairly sure White Fang would really try to get it to work, legend or not. I repeatedly told them about the dangers, and they seemed to have gotten the message…but you never know.”

“No, you never know,” Duo said and smiled, before looking out the window again. He knew what power could do to people, especially when it derived from ancient artifacts. Maddening, dangerous power of life and death, and there were still morons who thought they could wield it at their own conditions and with their own free will. No matter what age or what world, people were still willing to follow whatever organization as long as they were promised wealth and power. So many were willing to follow a strong leader who knew the right words to speak, the right emotions to appeal to, the right…weapon to wield for his actions.

A sharp whistle of the train shook Duo out of his thoughts. “Are we there yet?” He blurted out.

“No, at least ninety minutes left,” Heero replied, looking up from a magazine he’d been reading. “You dozed off a little…”

“Huh, yeah…”

“Do you want some more coffee?”

“I know that’s your secret,” Duo grinned at him. “You and your incredible stamina, in every aspect…you owe it all to caffeine.”

“To caffeine and the person opposite of me,” Heero answered in all seriousness. He stared at Duo, unfazed by his grimace.

“I’m not in the mood for relationship-talk right now. Business only.”

“We once started out as business only,” he said, voice neutral. “I really don’t think I deserve the anger you keep throwing at me, Duo. I would really appreciate it if we could talk about it as decent…humans. As the friends we were once…and the lovers…”

“You knew about the car chase, right?”

“What?” Heero asked, thrown off guard. He tightened the grip on his magazine. “What are you talking about?”

“After Khushrenada threw me out of his office. Don’t fucking bullshit me, Heero. You knew of White Fang and their involvement. You knew they were going to chase after me!”

“No,” Heero said, back straight. “I work for Khushrenada, but I don’t know his plans to every detail. I never knew he would take steps this far, if it was Khushrenada to begin with. He might be a dirty player, but he would never risk something like this.”

“You should have thought of that sooner! You could’ve at least warned me!”

“I’m not the only one making mistakes, Duo.”

“I didn’t fucking ask for my brother to die!”

“And I didn’t ask for my friend to be kidnapped and to be involved in a complex, changing-the-world type of conspiracy, leading back to an ancient artifact that is supposedly of the God of Death and was uncovered by some money-blazing moron who thought he could restore his name with it!”

“Ouch,” Duo muttered.

“You’re such a jerkass sometimes, Duo,” Heero said, grouchily. “Let it rest.”

“You’re so sexy when you say bad words,” Duo said, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wasn’t done yet, however. “I accepted your apology, as you explained yourself to me. It still doesn’t make up for all the time you didn’t even fucking try to reach me!”

“I made a mistake - a very grave mistake. I’m not afraid to admit that I was a jerk, that I was too occupied with other things and other people than you at that time, but I never. stopped. loving. you. I still love you, Duo Maxwell. I always have, and I always will.”

“And what’s next? Kiss and make up?”

“I would kiss you to heaven and back if that would get you to shut up,” Heero growled, without any anger in his voice. Duo snorted, but he couldn’t help grinning.

“Who knows when you’ll get your chance to do that, Yuy.”

Heero said nothing in return but simply gazed at him. Duo shifted around in his seat once more, this time stretching his knees and settling himself into a position to sleep, to kill the remaining hour of their travel. He closed his eyes and didn’t move when Heero put a thin blanket around him, mumbling a soft “thank you.” Let it rest. Maybe it was for the better if he did. The ghosts from his past; the mistakes he made; Solo. The souls of the dead were still haunting him in the present day, and he hadn’t given them or himself any rest. How hard does it have to be to put something behind you? Being confronted with Heero again reminded him of all the good times they had, their passionate relationship, their professional workmanship, the times they spend together - talking, loving, laughing, sometimes fighting, but always together. There was no one he loved as much as Heero Yuy, and he couldn’t get past himself to admit it to him…again. He was too stubborn to admit he made mistakes as well, too stubborn to be hurt again…even though he was only hurting himself by reacting to Heero this way. Let it rest. Rest, Solo Maxwell. Rest, Duo Maxwell. Rest your soul and look forward to what the future brings…don’t let the past weigh you down. It felt like a weight was indeed lifted from his shoulders - Duo fell asleep, content and comfortable.

------------------------

It took them another two hours to get off of the train, find all their luggage and get a taxi to their hotel. The evening was already falling and Duo stifled a yawn behind his hand. He noticed Heero was unusually silent - he was often silent, but this was a different kind of silence - and he knew from experience that the other was tired as well. The only thing left for them to do was to pick up their Land Rover, and Quatre Winner’s influence reached far enough, even in this small village close to Sanq’s borders. They were provided with the best of the best; Duo wolf-whistled when he saw the black Defender 110 SW with heavy duty axles, perfect equipment for their rough journey into the kingdom.

“Trowa really knows how to do his work,” he remarked amusedly, mentally thanking the personal assistant while checking the specifications of the car, popping the hood open and whistling again at the impressive engine. Heero signed the designated papers and recieved the keys in return.

“Let’s get back to the hotel and freshen up before going out to dinner,” he said, casually, as if they were on holiday.

“Is that a date?” Duo shot back, and opened the door to the Land Rover. He hoisted himself up to sit down on the passenger’s seat and marvelled at the height.

“If you want that to be,” Heero said, fiddling with the keys.

“You’re as romantic as ever.”

“That’s why you love me so much.”

“In your dreams…”

“Which are only revolving around you…”

“Only me?”

“Only you?”

“Liar.”

“Nerd.”

“Who are you calling a nerd, computer geek boy?”

“Oh, shut up and enjoy the view or something!”

Duo laughed out loud.

“It’s a date, then.”

Heero chuckled. “God, Duo…”

“Yes…?”

“Race you back to the hotel and the shower!”

------------------------

Heero won the shower race, but Duo wasn’t a sore loser. While the other was in the bathroom, Duo went around to check his luggage and prepare his backpack for tomorrow. They would drive to Sanq first thing in the morning, crossing the border just a little after sunset. He took his Uzis out of their casing - he had special papers to carry the weapons wherever he wanted, clearing him from any trouble if anyone asked him about the guns. Checking their magazines and clips, Duo nodded to himself, satisfied. His equipment was in perfect condition, thanks to Hilde and Howard. They had said nothing in particular when he told them that he was going on the expedition with Heero but a simple “Good luck,” though Howard had send him an e-mail that if he were ever to run in trouble with Heero, he just needed to give him a call and he would fly out himself to take care of business.

Heero. He heaved an almost love-sick sigh. Was he really falling for him all over again, or was he simply picking up where they had left off? Had he really locked away his feelings for the other all these years, only to have them replaced by feelings of anger and grief, and petty jealousy? He wasn’t really sure. Duo was never the one to analyse his relationships in-depth…Heero had been his first, and as far as he was concerned, his only. There was no one as perfect as Heero, and he didn’t care how sappy it sounded. Heero was perfect, a little too perfect sometimes…until Solo’s death. Duo closed his backpack, checking the straps once again. Heero had failed to show up on his funeral because of Relena being kidnapped. It hurt…not that Heero had chosen his friend over him, but because he simply never said anything. There was so much more to Heero, and sometimes Duo was afraid he would never understand him completely at all. A relationship was built and based on mutual trust, not on keeping things from each other. Duo knew he was far but perfect himself, and he was willing to give their relationship, to give Heero, another chance…hell, he should be glad if Heero was willing to give him another chance, after the aggressive attitude he’d been showing him. He had never known himself to be so full of petty jealousy when Relena was concerned, and to hold onto grudged for so long.

“The shower’s free.”

“Thank you,” Duo said and straightened, putting his backpack close to his bed. He turned around, looking at Heero and almost moaned, being reminded how…physically perfect he was.

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” he was quick to answer, relieved that at least his voice was normal.

“You looked a little…bothered, for a moment.”

“I’m not bothered…”

“All right…you can hog the warm water all you want now.”

“Very funny.” Duo’s hand already went to his braid to snap the tie.

“You know, you could probably cut back on the costs of your hair ties if you were to take them off, instead of snap them off.”

“I buy them in bulk, and I doubt it strains the budget all that much.”

“Did you take the commission for the money?”

Duo halted mid-movement, keeping the tuft of his braid in his fingers.

“Excuse me?”

Heero turned his back to him to pick up some clean clothes, unfolding a dark blue shirt.

“The commission. What did Winner offer you?”

“You know, you raise ‘being blunt’ to a whole new level, Heero.”

He had the small satisfaction of seeing the other flinch, but Duo was already bullying forward.

“But if you really want to know, I took the commission for the money, yes - I didn’t see the purpose of going on an expedition without my two best buddies if it weren’t for Quatre to donate money to a fund of my choice. What noble goal did you have in mind?”

“I had to live,” Heero murmured. “Paying my bills…”

“What, your pretty princess didn’t want to foot it?” It was out of his mouth before he realized it - again - but Duo’s mouth often worked faster than his mind.

“I see my reputation preceded me, just like yours has,” Heero answered dryly. “Or were you too busy sticking your head into beer kegs and now you can’t cough up the money to pay your bar tab?”

“That’s a low one.”

“Not lower than yours.”

“You used to never accept commissions for money, only for the artifact’s value for the archaeological world. We never got paychecks, Heero!”

“You used to never drink but one mixer in a whole week,” he snarled. “I read all about you in the tabloids, mister Popular Party Goer of several consecutive years!”

“I heard about you in all our circles, Mister Sell Out,” Duo growled. “How you dared to ask money for your efforts, how you dared to make profit of what we used to do for free - only expenses paid, and the artifact to the respective museum or institution!”

“I had my reasons,” Heero said, putting on the shirt.

“I had my reasons too,” Duo yelled and turned around, stalking towards the bathroom as his hair was already unravelling. He bit his lower lip, not knowing if he wanted to scream in frustration or to laugh in despair. Why were they bickering like this? Like enemies, like foes, after all they shared, after all they’d been through? Duo looked at himself in the mirror, suddenly taken aback by the bitterness on his face, the anger in his eyes. Why was everything with Heero so confronting? Why did he feel like he had to justify himself…why was he slipping, falling into some kind of abyss? Where did all this aggression come from, and why was he constantly blaming Heero? Was he afraid, or just immature? He knew he couldn’t live out his life alone and… die alone? A life without Heero, without ever admitting that he himself had been wrong too?

The shower helped him to feel refreshed, but not to get a clear grip on his thoughts. Duo wrapped a towel around his hair, the wet strands immediately soaking the fabric. He stretched languidly, taking another towel from the stack to wrap around himself, stepping out of the damp shower cabin.

“I think Papo Sorfu is a nice place for dinner, if the place still exists…?”

His voice died in his throat when he was greeted by the empty room.

“Fucking typical,” Duo snorted, though he couldn’t deny the pang he felt - a sudden fear of Heero having left him. He reminded himself not to immediately think the worst of it; Heero might have stepped out to make reservations, get some supplies, or make a phone call, whatever. Duo quickly went around the room, and checked if their luggage was still there - and indeed, Heero’s bag was still lying against the dresser. So he hadn’t left him…

Duo pursed his lips, but then continued to dry himself off and braided his hair with harsh movements, fingers tugging at the strands. He didn’t like it how Heero could create such a turmoil concerning his feelings, but Heero did something to him that he couldn’t place a finger on - it wasn’t only love, but also safety, and stability. Duo scurried around to put his clothes on and choose once again a costume from Hilde’s collection, this one hugging his skin as usual, covering him from head to toe. The nights could be cold here and the material would regulate his body temperature. Duo suppressed a wave of annoyance.

Heero was a grown man, and he didn’t know why he had left. He shouldn’t feel abandoned - they were both adults, they should be doing better than this childish game of attracting and repelling. I want this to work out. He wanted to trust Heero again; he wanted to not keep adding his own mistakes to the mix. Mistakes…why did he have to make them in the first place? Why couldn’t everything just be perfect? And why couldn’t he just simply let it rest?

“Because you’re a moron, Duo Maxwell,” he said to his mirror image. “You expect to fix things in under twenty seconds, and you expect people to abide your every whim. That’s enough of that - no more moping and pouting. What are you, sixteen?”

Out of habit, he stuck a few knives on his person. The knives were treated with Hilde’s special coating, so no metal detector would ever detect them. Hilde had always been good with practical things like this; Heero was the genius when it came to electronics and computer equipment. For now, Duo didn’t want to think of their upcoming expedition. He was hungry and wanted to see if his favorite restaurant was still in business. He quickly left the room and took his keys and wallet with him. Too bad that Heero had stepped out, he’d been really looking forward to dinner together, but his appetite was too great to wait for the other.

Duo inhaled deeply when he left the hotel and merged with the crowd on the main street, the only asphalted street in the small town. It was the last town before Sanq’s border, and the last place to get good supplies and something to eat before trekking into the rough country. The population was kind and helpful and wore colorful clothing; too bad the temperature was so chilly, or Duo would’ve thought he was in Mexico. The air was thick and heavy, nothing like a warm, comfortable blanket - more like an imposing, strangling hand around the throat.

Nobody looked at him twice, this town was used to treasure hunters, archaeologists and strange folk. Not even if he’d been carrying his Uzis, the crowd wouldn’t blink. He followed the crowd, picking up his pace, and after a few minutes he reached the center of the town: a large square where everyone gathered to meet up with friends, to get water from the surprisingly clean fountain and to eat at one of the many restaurants, conveniently located all around. Sure enough, the scent of hot food was mouth-watering, and his stomach reminded him that it had been quite a while since his sandwich on the train. He could do with a hearty meal, and to his utmost pleasure he saw the sign of Papo Sorfu buzzing; even after all these years, the owner hadn’t bothered to replace the lights in his sign, rendering his restaurant’s name to a Pap or u. Amused, Duo walked around, checking out some other restaurants, glad to be walking after all the hours cooped up in the train. The square was as usual crowded, natives talking loudly, children running around, the few tourists here and there wandering obtrusively around with their digital cameras and loud cell phones.

A row of cars – outdated ones, reminding him of Cuba – was lined up around the square, in front of a particular restaurant. Duo had never heard of the Gato Gado before, but it had to be one of the most popular establishments right now. People were lining up to be admitted, dressed up as if they were visiting a soirée. Amused, Duo decided to go back to his original choice of restaurant but couldn’t keep from eyeing the cars, spotting a few elderly American models, and…

…a familiar white garb, though the outfit was not completely the same as when he’d seen him first. Duo narrowed his eyes, his fingers slightly twitching. He couldn’t possibly be mistaken - he had a photographic memory, and this guy had made enough impression on him to be never forgotten - that, and the katana strapped on his back was a pretty good reminder. Only in this town no one would give you a second look, not even with a sword on your back - it was just the way things were. This time, Chang Wufei was wearing a dark blue tank top embroidered with a dragon, its red and yellow scales glittering in the street lights. With the color of his tank top fading into the darkness of the night, it almost looked like a live dragon had wrapped itself around his body, the intricate details even visible from this distance. He was wearing a loosely knotted black belt around his white pants, and soft, flat shoes to complete his outfit. Hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail, his dark eyes focused on Heero - it was him, and Heero was talking to him.

Silly me, I thought you really had both our interests in mind, not Khushrenada’s. Chang was leaning rather casually on an open car door, the engine still running. He made a relaxed impression, as far as a guy with a katana on his back could be relaxed, and Heero was talking to him. Duo wished he knew how to read lips; his curiosity was almost killing him. The conversation was broken off abruptly as Chang suddenly adjusted the katana on his back and hopped into the car, which drove off immediately. Heero turned around and started walking towards the Gato Gado, leaving Duo to wonder if they’d seen him. What the hell? It would be of no use to follow Heero. He immediately knew when he was being followed; and Chang was by car, and probably miles and miles away from here. Heero claimed that Khushrenada couldn’t care less whomever he worked with, as long as it paid off victoriously for him in the end - the Never-Ending Circle, and to hell and back with everyone else. But seeing Heero with Chang together, like friends talking to each other, felt like a stab in the back. This was the same guy who had thrown tear gas and stolen the first part of the artifact and Winner’s notes from him. His appetite had vanished, and that upset him even more. Duo decided to confront Heero back at the hotel, and he wasn’t going to rest until he heard exactly what was going on.

---------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Red Dawn, Yamishipping, part 5

Sat, 31 Jan 2009 18:12:23 GMT

Title: Red Dawn or the World ends Tomorrow
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: Yamishipping (YnY x YnB x YnM), Anzu x Honda, unrequited Yuugi x Anzu, one-sided Mahaado x Atemu
Warnings: violence, angst, potty mouths, shounen-ai, major character death!
Genre: AU, science fiction, action/adventure
Diclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Takahasi Kazuki. No money is made off of this. Fic written just for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Seven Items, seven Generals. What once was the peaceful green Earth has turned into a war-ridden danger zone under the tyrannical rule of Kaiba Gozaburo, with Domino City, Japan, as the centre of his empire. The resistance, led by young rebel Mutou Yuugi, is searching for a way to retrieve the seven so-called Sennen Items, as they are believed to hold the power to bring universal peace. It’s only a matter of time before Yuugi crosses paths with the Generals in his search, ultimately meeting the most powerful of them all: the one they call ‘Pharaoh’.
Author’s note: Feedback is greatly appreciated. I refer to Yami no Malik/ Malik no yami no jinkaku as ‘Marik’ for the flow of the story.

Key: ----------- = scene change

---------------------------------

The knife slipped over the plate as he cut his steak, and it made an awful, high-pitched noise. Noa winced.

“Sorry about that, Mokuba,” he said politely, spearing the piece he just cut off at his fork, bringing it to his mouth. “You should really eat some, it’s delicious. You’re far too skinny to begin with.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Just have a little bite, okay?”

Mokuba pursed his lips, but took up his knife and fork and started cutting the meat. The food was indeed delicious, but everything tasted rather bland to him. Ever since his brother was held captive at the lower levels and he was up here, with Noa, he simply didn’t have much appetite. He brought the food to his lips and took it off of the fork, chewing slowly. There wasn’t much he could do for his brother right now. Seto… every day without him felt like eternity. Mokuba was smart enough to realize Noa didn’t keep him in his quarters for the company he provided. He knew exactly how much Noa cared – for Kaiba Noa only. Mokuba couldn’t count the number of times he had tried to sneak out of these quarters and go downstairs, to smuggle some food to his brother, anything to see him. He even had had some hope after meeting that guy with the raven black hair, Gozaburo’s assistant, who seemed nice enough…but then he’d been exposed as a traitor, a spy for the Resistance, and Mokuba knew what his fate was.

He didn’t really taste the steak. It was the best of the best, and he’d get everything he asked for, his every wish would be fulfilled – only not his wish to see his brother, let alone free him. Noa kept telling him that Seto had forgotten all about him, that he lived another life, far away from here, without Mokuba as a ball in chain. How could Noa be so stupid, how could he call himself their eldest brother, when it was so obvious he held Mokuba for naïve and stupid? Did he really think Seto would even leave this Tower without him? That Seto would live somewhere alone, without him? Mokuba was very aware of what happened to Seto, and the thought that Noa regarded him as dumb, telling him his precious lies, was just insulting. His hand went to his chest, fingering the outline of a necklace. It had been a gift of his brother, and Mokuba was convinced that as long as he wore it, Seto wouldn’t die. It was silly, but it was something that he clung onto with all his heart and soul.

Noa frowned slightly when he saw Mokuba rubbing his chest and neck. That damn necklace. Whatever he had tried – showering the kid with new clothes, games and gifts, trying to distract him – he hadn’t managed to break the bond between Seto and Mokuba. He’d even told the kid Seto had forgotten about him, but Mokuba had refused to believe him. Refused! He swallowed his food, keeping his eyes on Mokuba’s fingers. The brothers had a bond he had never… he was never able to share. Noa was willing to overlook the fact that those two were adopted and by default not genuine Kaiba-blood, in favor of Seto’s intelligence and the work he had done to create a virtual world. Its use was practically limitless, and Noa and Gozaburo had both seen its great possibilties and advantages… but due to Seto’s sickly bond with his younger brother, he didn’t want his virtual creation to be used for anything else but good intentions. A whole world, created from scratch, and he had good intentions with it! Noa wanted to snort. Seto didn’t see what power he held, the power to absolutely rule, the power to be the only one in power - and he had trown it all away.

For all that he loathed Seto, Noa hated that he didn’t have a similar bond with any of his relatives. He hated that his father didn’t take him seriously. He hated that Mokuba and Seto were tied together with more strings than one, and that he was unable to cut it. His first victory was all but handed to him, after he had decided to keep tabs on Otogi. Finally, when the assistant had gone down to the lower levels to search for Seto, Noa had to do nothing but to send Marik and Bakura to apprehend him and dub him as a ‘traitor’. Now that he had convinced everyone that Otogi was a double-crosser, Noa had managed to trick both the Resistance and Gozaburo into doing what he wanted. Now Mahaado was out of the way, and the Pharaoh would soon follow. Noa started to smile, and he speared another piece of the steak to his fork.

After Mahaado’s capture, Gozaburo had called back the other Generals, dispersed all over the world. As soon as they would arrive at headquarters, Noa would create opportunities to dispose of them once and for all, one by one. He would strip his father of his power and influence, little by little – a painstakingly slow process, but very rewarding in the end. In the end, the world would bow to him, not to Gozaburo or his Generals. Noa was already planning on how to dispose of them, and he was saving the Pharaoh for last. That little piece of shit would go insane without his loyal bodyguards or caretakers around, and Noa would reclaim his own territory. He would torture the Pharaoh, harness the powers of his own beloved Gods and turn them against him. He would wail and cry and beg, the most powerful General stripped of everything he had, and he would be as a lifeless doll in Noa’s hands. His father, the Generals, the Pharaoh - they would all obey to him.

His smile turned into a wicked grin. Everyone was losing it but him. He would be triumphant in the end. In the end, there would be no Kaiba left but him, and he would set the rules with the virtual reality world, to do whatever he wanted. He didn’t notice Mokuba clenching his napkin, unnerved by the grin on Noa’s face. Everything was going perfect for once. Too bad he invested so much time in Mokuba- the kid couldn’t tell him anything about Seto’s system and had no idea about the passwords his brother had used. Noa knew he wasn’t going to feel bad when he ended up killing him. After all, Mokuba wasn’t a real Kaiba anyway. Only he was.

----------------------------------

Carefully, Otogi pressed his fingers against his neck and hissed when touching the tender skin. He should’ve known – Marik was strong, and he hadn’t exactly held back when he had grabbed him at the neck. Bruises were the least of his problems and Otogi got up from the floor again, stiffly, and wrapped his arms around himself. It was freezing cold here, and there was nothing comfortable in this cell; no food, no warmth, no electricity, no bed, no place to sit but on the hard floor. He was fortunate, however – they hadn’t shackled him like Kaiba Seto.

Otogi had been literally flung into the dungeon; he could still hear Marik’s wild cackle as he threw him. They had finally left him alone after hours and hours of interrogation and torture, forcing him into a broadcast to the Resistance to alert them of Mahaado’s arrival. The torture had been horrendous, and Otogi’s body had relented after the countless hours of physicial violence. Noa had made him confess the codes and frequency for the broadcast, admitting his involvement with the Resistance. Despite being beaten and tortured, Otogi hadn’t named Yuugi or the Game Shop; but he had made a broadcast, with Noa dictating his every word. He had lost consciousness after Marik had suggested having some ‘fun time’ with him, if only for a few minutes. Otogi had woken up in this cell, surprisingly without broken bones, but in excruciating pain, almost paralyzing his entire body.

Hunger and thirst were chipping away at the last of his energy reserves. He had to get out of here fast before he ended up the same as Kaiba… and before the entire Resistance would be wiped out. He wanted to smack his head into the wall and forget, just plain forget. He hadn’t been courageous enough to defy Noa, and he hadn’t been strong enough to choose death over life.
He slammed his hand into the wall. The pain increased tremendously, but he didn’t care. It was his entire fault, he deserved the pain! Because of him, the Resistance was going to be in grave danger, if they hadn’t been wiped out already! Otogi trembled. Noa knew that Gozaburo was going to send a General after them, and the only one available was Mahaado… the tyrannical ruler wouldn’t want his prize pet, the Pharaoh, to be exposed to such filth as the Resistance, so he would send Mahaado after them. And Noa… Noa was hoping for the Resistance to capture Mahaado, as he knew what was going to happen next - the Pharaoh would search them out, enraged and ready to unleash one of his Gods. Noa would end up with two of the most powerful Generals out of his way.

Damn him! Otogi gritted his teeth. This uncertainty, this not-knowing-what-was-going-on, was killing him! He needed to know how much time he had left! Otogi winced. The pain was unbearable, Marik had worked him over to his heart’s content. He had to ignore the pain and focus on getting out of here. He couldn’t live with himself, not if he didn’t try to reach the Resistance… Yuugi would more than probably forgive him, but Jounouchi, Honda, and the others..? Would they be as forgiving as their leader, because he couldn’t withstand the torture and pain?

Noa, goddamn Noa, he had set this all up! He wasn’t smarter than his father, but he sure knew how to manipulate people. By keeping an eye on him, for God only knew how long, Noa had managed to catch Otogi in the act. He had searched for the mysterious third Kaiba brother, Seto, to help him, and that had been his downfall. Noa had branded him a traitor, and Gozaburo didn’t care much for his assistant in the first place - he was going to end up forgotten, dying from starvation, with the knowledge that he had caused his friends’ suffering. He shivered violently. He knew strategies and how to execute them, and he already started to see Noa’s pattern. He wanted to weaken the headquarters by getting rid of his most powerful adversaries, and by playing one faction against the other. If Otogi were in Noa’s shoes, he probably would’ve played it the same way. Events were going to be triggered after this, like a snowball effect, and the only thing he could do was to get out of here right now. There was no way the Resistance could fight the Pharaoh. He swallowed thickly. He should’ve told Noa to kill him, to follow up on his threats, and to get it over with quickly. That way, he wouldn’t have caused more problems…

“Hey… hey, you’re awake?”

Otogi was startled out of his gloomy thoughts by the sudden voice. Cradling his hand to his chest, ignoring the bloodied knuckles, he recognized Kaiba’s voice and whispered in return:

“Yeah, I’m awake. How are you?”

“Just peachy.” Kaiba’s voice was still hoarse and raspy, but Otogi could make out his words just fine. Fortunately the walls weren’t soundproof.

“Did they shackle you?”

“No, I can walk around,” Otogi answered.

“Lucky fuck.”

He couldn’t help himself and snorted. This cell was small enough to develop instant claustrophobia: seven steps forward and he smacked into the door, three steps to either side and he smacked into a wall. The door had a very small window, providing him with a view on the dim lit hallway. He was grateful for that little bit of light – complete darkness would’ve driven him insane. On the floor, out of his reach, was the small package of food he had brought along when searching for Kaiba. It had to be moldy and spoiled by now. How long had he already been down here? Two, three days?

“They have worked you over good,” Kaiba suddenly spoke. “I could hear you screaming all the way here.”

“I don’t know,” Otogi answered. “I think I lost all my memories of it.”

“Smart guy,” Kaiba said. He moved a little, and the chains scraped over the floor. He remembered how he had been beaten all too well. He had refused to give Noa or his father the codes and passwords to his virtual world, and he had embraced the pain until he simply lost consciousness.

“My kingdom for my laptop,” he continued, tiredly. “I would hack every security system in this fucking building and take it down within fifteen seconds.”

Otogi snorted again. “That is, if you still have strength in your wrists.”

“Gozaburo is a nutfuck. He’ll never win.”

“That might be, but he’s nice and dandy upstairs, and you’re down here.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“No problem,” Otogi answered, but with half the sarcasm he would usually muster. His own chances of escape were minimal. He didn’t expect anyone to care for him down here. Noa would forget about him as soon as he lived out his purpose, and Otogi Ryuuji would rot away! He kicked at a clog of dirt, and went back to the door. Six, seven steps and he smacked into the door. Hopeless! He put his hand against the door and pushed, to no avail. The walls were seamless and smooth, no cracks whatsoever. The ceiling was too high to reach, and the floor was smooth as well; no old-fashioned bricks and mortar. Otogi doubted he could even jam a fingernail between the infinite small seam between floor and wall.

Slowly, he examined the door’s surface with his fingers, millimeter by millimeter. He hoped to find a lock on the inside, so he could pick it - Jounouchi had taught him how to do that. His friend had practically grown up on the streets…and thinking about Jounouchi made him think about Shizuka. He loved to see her again, he wanted to see her again. He had never questioned his love for Shizuka, but had put the needs of the Resistance above his own. Leaving her behind, even though she was in good hands, was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life…and now that everything had collapsed around him, Shizuka became his focus, his spirit, his hope. He would find a way out of here alive, and everything be damned, but as soon as he was out of here, he would ask her to be his wife. Jounouchi could whine and nag all about how he wasn’t the perfect husband for his sister all that he wanted, but he was going to survive, one way or the other!

----------------------------

Ever since he had been captured, Mahaado wondered why the furniture in the other rooms had been carefully covered with white sheets, turned gray from accumulated dust. There was something eerie about it, the silence, the sheets covering up any shape or color. The magician-General had kept his word and hadn’t used any heka. He stayed upstairs, resisting the temptation to walk down the stairs and see what was on the ground floor. He marveled at the odd structure of the building, with the kitchen and living room on the first floor, and so many nooks and crannies that you could get lost.

He used the bedroom and a bathroom, but he didn’t wander into the other rooms. It felt like he was breaching something, rupturing some unseen barrier, if he entered. Mahaado limited himself to walking up and down the hallway, to get at least some exercise, as he wondered why he hadn’t picked up and left yet. His heka wasn’t blocked or disabled at all, there were no guards in front of his room, there was no lock on his door. Nothing was keeping him here against his will. He should be on his way back to the KaibaCorp. building and immediately inform Gozaburo… but that felt wrong.
With a sigh, Mahaado sat down on his bed again. He had healed himself from the stinging ache in his jaw, as well as the giant headache he suffered. Soon thereafter, he had found his staff in the corner of the room – who was so incredibly trusting around his enemies? Didn’t this Yuugi know that he could destroy this entire building and kill everyone in it with just one blast of his heka? One spell, that was all it took? He wrung his hands, mulling over the questions he couldn’t find an answer to. It confused him. He had hoped to see and talk to Isis, but understood Yuugi’s reasons for not having them meet up, for now. This Resistance was strange, peaceful, and worked with an honor code based on a promise. A promise he could easily break if he wanted to, but somehow Mahaado felt compelled to honor his words – because he wasn’t a liar in the first place, nor was he someone to break a promise, and lastly… because the Pharaoh had asked him to. No, not the Pharaoh – Yuugi.

Their alikeness was uncanny and unsettling at the same time. He should be with his real Pharaoh, not with this Yuugi kid, who held him capt… no, he wasn’t really a prisoner. He couldn’t blame him. Mahaado didn’t know what he was waiting for. An opportunity, perhaps, to convince himself that he always had been right? That he was justified all along in his opinon that Gozaburo was wrong, and that he was going to pay for his crimes? Mahaado leaned forward and pulled the curtains a little to the side, staring up at the grey sky. It had been raining gently all day long, as if crying… he quickly pulled back from the window and folded his hands in his lap when he heard footsteps, expecting Yuugi to enter the room.

He was right – the small Pharaoh look-alike stepped into the room, carrying the familiar tray with food. Mahaado hadn’t complained, but the food was substantially worse than what he was used to – not because of bad cooking, but because there was so little available. Another gap between Gozaburo and the common people; the man kept everything to himself, even when he didn’t need it; the tyrannical ruler hoarded everything he could get his hands on.

“Yuugi,” he acknowledged his presence, then frowned when another person followed him into the room: Jounouchi.

Yuugi smiled at him and placed the tray on top of the dresser, poking at the covered dish.

“Our supplies are going down again.”

“I am sorry, I do not know the schedules of the supply transports,” Mahaado answered. “That was arranged far outside of my… ah, view.”

“Can the pretty words,” Jounouchi growled at him. “You’re a General, you’re supposed to know these kind of things.”

“I am sorry,” Mahaado repeated, keeping his voice low and neutral. “The organization of food and provision transports was never a part of my tasks.”

“Enough, Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi quickly said when he saw his friend open his mouth to retort. “Isis-san never knew such things either.”

“How about your friends, or your precious Pharaoh?” Jounouchi sneered. “They aren’t really coming to your rescue now, are they?”

“Whatever will happen, will happen,” Mahaado said. “I have faith in my friends.” He left it at that, avoiding to talk about the Pharaoh - he couldn’t keep his voice neutral when talking about him. Mentioning the Pharaoh always made it personal.

“We’re not afraid of your Pharaoh,” Jounouchi said, “or any of your friends. We’ve taken enough shit of Gozaburo and his Generals as it is!”

“He’s a General, why do they call him ‘Pharaoh’?” Yuugi suddenly asked, interrupting Jounouchi and taking Mahaado by surprise.

“I-it is the way I have always called him,” the magician-General answered, a little stuttering. “We do not know his name, and it is impolite to address a son of the Gods with his real name.”

“This isn’t the medieval century, you know,” Jounouchi said. Yuugi looked a little downtrodden.

“It must be sad, not knowing your name,” he said. “To be called only with such a distant title like ‘General’ or ‘Pharaoh’…”

“Not even Gozaburo-daimyo calls him General,” Mahaado said. "Always ‘Pharaoh’. He is one, and one day, my Phar… Great Pharaoh will be free from those false illusions Gozaburo has put into his mind.”

Yuugi cocked his head. “You care for him.” It was a small consolation that even in this desperate world, people still cared for one another. “You care for him a great deal.”

“I…” Mahaado averted his eyes. “I am loyal to him, not to Gozaburo. Wherever he goes, I go.”

Jounouchi raised his eyebrows. “You’re not loyal to Gozaburo?”

“No, only to my Pharaoh!” Mahaado was shocked by his own vehemence. “He is the only one deserving of my loyalty.”

“What do you mean by ‘the false illusions Gozaburo has put into his mind’?” Yuugi asked, sharing a confused look with Jounouchi.

“He did that to all of us,” Mahaado said, shaking his head. “No one knows what… and who we are, exactly. We are Generals, and we do what Gozaburo says, but still… we all know that we somehow are tied stronger to the Pharaoh, and we obey him until the end. That is all that I know, and that is all that I abide.”

“Weird.” Jounouchi grimaced. “It stinks.”

“Doesn’t the Pharaoh know, something, anything?”

“His armor,” Mahaado said.

“What?”

“It’s his armor,” the magician-General repeated. “It’s his strength and weakness at the same time.” He started to look angry, narrowing his eyes, lips twisting in an ugly grimace. “Gozaburo wants him to always wear it, and he gets upset if he doesn’t. I just know that he did something to Great Pharaoh, and I know it has something to do with that thrice-damned armor! Protection, hah - whenever he isn’t wearing it, he’s a completely different person.”

“Different how?”

“More focused, more… lucid.” Mahaado blushed deeply. He wasn’t used to saying anything negative or incriminating about his Pharaoh. “Like he used to be. Just, fair, and… nothing like the sluggish, incoherent, insa… less healthy person when he wears that godforsaken armor.”

“I’ve never heard such a silly thing before,” Jounouchi said. “Are you telling me that your Pharaoh hasn’t sided with Gozaburo on his own free will?”

“He is a prisoner,” Mahaado was quick to answer. “Gozaburo makes sure he is comfortable and taken care of, but in some way, he is subduing him, robbing him of his sanity. My Pharaoh would never, ever, allow such a cretin like Kaiba Gozaburo to hold any power over him!”

“That must be some incredible armor,” Yuugi said, pensive. Jounouchi flailed with his arms.

“Com’on, man! This is just some weird trick! You can’t believe all this armor shit yourself? He probably needs it as some kind of compensation!”

“Do not talk about him like that,” Mahaado snarled. “You will see what I mean when he comes for me!”

Silence. The magician winced. Both Yuugi’s and Jounouchi’s expression had changed.

“He comes for you… what?”

“As soon as he learns that I am being held captive,” Mahaado answered, conveniently ignoring that Yuugi had told him he could leave anytime he wanted. “He will search me out and find me. But,” he looked at Jounouchi, unable to pass up this opportunity to return the sneer, “as I recall, you are not afraid of him.”

“If he summons one of his Gods,” Yuugi said, “then all is lost. We can’t fight such a creature.”

“Yuugi, you can’t be serious,” Jounouchi said. He refused to look at Mahaado, and refused to acknowledge the knot in his stomach. His mouth was often faster than his brains, and Jounouchi wasn’t as stupid as to not acknowledge the power of a General. “We haven’t seen anyone ‘coming’ for him yet. He’s lying!”

“Believe it or not, but Mahaado-san has never lied to me,” Yuugi said, voice curt. “If he says that the Pharaoh will do this, he will do this, and we better strengthen our position before a God arrives on our doorstep.”

“Then we issue a message to Gozaburo,” Jounouchi answered stubbornly. “We tell him that we kill his General if that Pharaoh dude does something to us!”

“No!”

“You can threaten all that you want. I will gladly die for my Pharaoh!” Mahaado raised his voice.

“How about dying right now?” Jounouchi threatened.

“Very well,” was Mahaado’s answer, and Yuugi looked in absolute horror at him. For a moment, as the magician-General carefully sat down on his bed, he thought Mahaado was going to talk, intimidated by the threat – but he folded his hands into his lap again and simply sat down, waiting. It dawned Yuugi a few seconds later that Mahaado’s “very well” didn’t mean he was going to talk, but that he was prepared to die, actually awaiting the end, ready to give his life.

“You can’t forsake your life just like that, Mahaado-san.”

“For him, I will,” the General answered. “What value does my life have if I allow to be afraid of death? I will be his eternal servant, dead or alive.”

Jounouchi looked like he was about to drop his jaw, but then he pursed his lips and nodded. He realized his hands were clenched into fists; slowly, he unclenched his fingers, composing himself again. This man was not exactly as he thought he would be. Not only had Mahaado kept himself to his word, not leaving the first floor and not using his heka to escape, but he had also shown great understanding and compassion, and not any of the blood thirst or violence he associated with the Generals. Jounouchi frowned. Maybe this Mahaado was an exception to the rule – it was still a fact that his beloved Pharaoh was all but happy to use his incredible powers, summoning those strange Gods to destroy entire cities in search for the Sennen Items, in search for destruction.

He turned around on his heels and stalked out of the room. “Come Yuugi, we have lots of things to discuss.”

Yuugi nodded as well and turned around to leave, but he halted at the door post. He looked over his shoulder at Mahaado, who hadn’t moved from the bed.

“Does he return..?”

Mahaado looked up, but his voice was strained. “It is my honor to serve him. What he thinks of me or feels for me is not important.”

Yuugi’s lips curled into a wistful smile.

“If it is any consolation to you… if he’s going to risk everything to get you back, I’m sure that he cares for you very much too.”

With that, he left the room, and Mahaado remained frozen in his position on the bed, until the footsteps on the stairs had died away.

-----------------------------

“Is pretty Pharaoh asleep?”

Marik spoke very soft as he touched the other, shaking his shoulder a little. Bakura had always thought Marik was unable to whisper; his voice was usually loud, very loud.

“I think you managed to wear him out.”

Marik heaved a sigh and brought up his hand to tug at his own hair. The bruises on his wrist and arm were clearly visible, sporting a horrid dark purple color. Bakura didn’t move; his body felt sore and worn-out as well. His eyes were focused on the Pharaoh who was in their midst again, hands stuck under the pillow. His breathing was even, and there wasn’t a single flaw in his face.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Bakura looked up at Marik who sat upright, his hand still on the Pharaoh’s shoulder, his other hand ruffling the strands of his hair.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Bakura snorted. Marik had endured an extensive beating, and the Pharaoh hadn’t been mild to him either when he had learned the news about Mahaado. As promised, Marik was the one to tell him and as always, he had brought the news rather bluntly, enraging the other. Bakura mimicked his friend and heaved a sigh as well. His eyes darted over to the large window panes, offering the Pharaoh his much beloved view of the city. The middle and right panes were damaged, thick spider webs of cracks and cuts running from floor to ceiling. Bakura was aware of the thickness of the bulletproof glass, but this time the Pharaoh hadn’t used the power of his Gods to throw Marik against it. He’d been so enraged about Mahaado’s capture that he hit him on his own strength. Both Marik and Bakura had been surprised; nonetheless, the Pharaoh was still wearing his armor at the moment he lashed out.

It was strange how such a small, physically weak man like the Pharaoh could control so much power. Bakura had tried to find the source of that power, but he didn’t know exactly where to look. He assumed that wearing the armor helped the Pharaoh to overcome the lack of strength, but the summoning and wielding of the Gods was still a mystery to him. Bakura himself could use the shadows and Marik was insanely strong; compared to humans, it wasn’t normal. He was willing to accept the Pharaoh’s immense powers just because he was a Pharaoh - but Bakura was a thief, and it was in his nature to steal, be it golden artifacts or godlike powers.

Marik rubbed his back, stifling a yawn. His left eye was swollen, it was a miracle he could still see with it. The entire left side of his face was a horrid mess of cuts, bruises and abrased skin; there was even some dried blood on his cheekbone. His hair was matted and tangled; only because of his strong constitution, he was still breathing. Any other person would’ve died from similar injuries, but Marik strangely never seemed to break any of his bones, no matter how harshly he was punished. He noticed Bakura looking at him, and said: “What? Something the matter?”

“You look like shit,” Bakura answered.

“Yeah, guess why, smartass.”

Silence. Bakura closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep for a million years. He didn’t like physical pain, and despite his patience, he didn’t like waiting either. He wanted to see results, and above all, he wanted to know. He wanted to know why he existed, why Marik existed, why they were serving a Pharaoh.
Why he had physical feelings for the others and some kind of emotional attachment to them. Why Gozaburo was calling the other Generals back, and why this Resistance knew how to capture a magician-General.

“I think we have another spy in the building.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Bakura snarled, though he knew his anger was wasted on Marik. “How did that Resistance know how to incapacitate Mahaado? How did they know when we would arrive?”

“Maybe that Otogi guy managed to give that information out before he got caught?”

“No, no.” Bakura shook his head. Marik made a surprisingly good point, but the order for Mahaado to go after the Resistance was issued after the assistant had been apprehended and flung into one of the dungeons. Bakura had witnessed his torture, but wasn’t aware of the broadcast Noa had forced him to do. “He couldn’t have.”

Noa. He pursed his lips carefully, staring at the other. Marik stared back with one eye open, blandly.

“Someone here, and Isis.”

“What about pretty Ishizu-sister?”

“She knows all about heka, doesn’t she? She could…”Bakura lied back down, his thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. What if…

“If Isis has betrayed us and told the Resistance how to break his heka, I will make sure she will pay for it.”

“Pretty Pharaoh, you’re awake!”

“I will kill her,” the Pharaoh said. “No one deserves to live after what she did.”

Bakura moved up his hand and touched a few golden bangs, brushing them out of his face. The Pharaoh usually calmed down when his hair was being played with.

“We told you how sorry we are for screwing up,” he said. “We weren’t fast enough when he called for help.”

“You probably couldn’t have done much to help him anyway.” He tilted his head a little. “If the Resistance knew all of this, if they had information on his heka and how to break it, that means information has been leaked. You’re right - there must be another spy.”

Marik used this moment to drape himself all over the Pharaoh, and relaxed visibly when he noticed that he wasn’t going to get thrown off. He lowered his head a little and licked over the Pharaoh’s ear.

“Does that mean pretty Pharaoh isn’t mad with us anymore?”

“I am still very upset with all of this,” he answered. “I want Mahaado to be here with me again.” He looked from one to another. “And you are going to help me with that.”

“Pretty Pharaoh just has to say the word, and we’ll follow,” Marik said, all but cheerfully. Bakura nodded, pressing a kiss to the other’s neck. It more than probably had escaped Marik, but Bakura caught a good look at the Pharaoh’s eye color. He had never seen them so red before, liquid blood, and he was suddenly too afraid to admit that it scared him.

----------------------------

They almost looked like a large, harmonious family having dinner. Honda, wedged between his fiancée Anzu and Jounouchi’s younger sister Shizuka, sat next to Jounouchi himself with Yuugi sitting next to him, then Bakura Ryou, Malik Ishtar and his sister, alongside a few other people, all part of the Resistance, sharing the evening meal.

Yuugi had made sure that Mahaado also had been served some food. The Resistance leader was still amazed that the magician-general kept his word. He hadn’t used any of his heka, nor had made any attempt to escape. It seemed like Mahaado was reluctant to return to the KaibaCorp. building. He wanted to see his Pharaoh more than anything, but he didn’t want to return to death and destruction, following the orders of someone he despised, but felt forced to answer to.

It was a very simple meal of steamed rice, tempura, a few dumplings shared between the children, and a salad of leftover vegetables. Anzu and Shizuka had made dinner and the girls were still talking, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, instead of a few months. Jounouchi rolled dramatically with his eyes, teasing them about ‘girl talk’, which evoked a discussion about female and male rights in nowadays society, all in good spirit; even Isis was participating and laughing every now and then. Yuugi put his chopsticks down and looked around, satisfied. The hardships of life were forgotten at the moment, the danger they constantly were in couldn’t touch them, not right now. It might be a false sense of security for a moment, but it was their moment. Safe and sound, enjoying dinner.

His eyes darted over to Isis, who was smiling. She had finished her dinner and her hand was on Malik’s lower left arm. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her touch him. While he was talking to the soft-spoken Bakura, the woman suddenly turned towards Yuugi, catching his gaze. Her eyes narrowed, though her look didn’t hold her usual, distant haughtiness. She nodded at him, and he returned a rather confused look - did she want to tell him something, or not? However, she averted her head again and looked at her brother, with obvious sibling pride in her eyes.

Anzu nudged his elbow. “Something the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look a little sad.”

“Really?”

She tugged at one of his golden bangs. “Yes, silly. What dark and grim thoughts are on your mind this time?”

“Nothing,” he half-heartedly replied, but was thankful for her distraction.

He had never seen Isis so alive and genuinely happy before, and a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that something was… going wrong, something was off. He didn’t want to ruin the mood – even Jounouchi had a good time, despite sharing dinner with the former General. Shizuka suddenly laughed out loud, like small silver bells tingling, and it was so contagious that soon everyone was just laughing. It was a wonderful sound, delightful; just for this moment, everything seemed peaceful and perfect. Anzu tapped at his wrist when she calmed down.

“I think I hear the transmitter, Yuugi.”

Silence fell, and a few people turned around, towards the big metallic box against the wall. There was absolute silence for a moment, and then it started beeping again, rhythmically. Yuugi’s eyes turned even wider. Those beeps… that was Otogi’s code for calling in! That couldn’t be right.

Jounouchi quickly picked up on Yuugi’s frown, and recognized the code a few seconds later.

“Otogi,” he mouthed wordlessly to Yuugi.

It could be possible… after all, Otogi had send them a message before, even after he had told them not to trust his messages anymore. Otogi had feared that he had been found out, and had warned them to be very cautious. Not much later, he had send them a panicked, strained message about a General coming their way, who turned out to be Mahaado.

“Oni-chan?” Shizuka asked confusedly, as she was used to him running towards the transmitter with just the faintest echo of an incoming message. She knew how important the equipment was to establish and maintain contact with the several Resistance members all over the world.

Jounouchi didn’t answer, but moved towards the transmitter and turned a few buttons, securing the broadcast.

“Yes? Hello?” He asked neutrally.

“Moshi moshi?”

Jounouchi didn’t need to look at the others for confirmation. This wasn’t Otogi’s voice. It was a higher pitched voice, and he was unable to determine if it was a man or a woman. The voice resonated through the room again, albeit a little lower.

“Moshi moshi? Please answer me!”

“Who is this?”

“I’m a friend of Otogi,” the voice came again, slightly crackling due to the interference. “My name is…Namu.”

“Namu?” Jounouchi parroted. That was the stupidest name he had ever heard. “State your business, Namu. How did you obtain this frequency?”

“Otogi gave it to me. He’s in danger, in real danger,” Namu didn’t sound panicky, rather composed, but there was an undeniable urge behind his words. “I don’t know how I can help him. That jerk Noa has imprisoned him on the lower levels of the building; he’s out of my reach.”

“Otogi-san..!” Shizuka kept her hands in front of her face, smothering her shriek. Her mood had improved considerably after receiving Otogi’s previous transmission, confirming that he was still alive, but to hear now that he had been imprisoned… Anzu wrapped her arms around the girl, while Honda grimaced. If it were up to him, he would go straight to the KaibaCorp. building and free his friend with his bare hands.

“Is he still alive?” Jounouchi had to know.

“Yes, yes he is.” Another bout of interference, and they winced.

“Repeat that, please?”

“He’s still alive,” Namu spoke a little louder. “I don’t know for how long. I can’t help him. I would end up in the same cell… you have to help him! I can give you certain codes, so you can gain entrance to the building – but you have to be fast, because…”

“Because what?” Jounouchi yelled when an ominous silence fell. He smashed at some of the buttons to get a better, clearer frequency.

“…Generals,” the voice echoed again. “The Pharaoh has learned about Mahaado’s capture. He will attack soon.”

A collective gasp went through the room, and Isis closed her eyes. Yuugi didn’t know if she heaved a sigh from sorrow or relief, he couldn’t discern the expression on her face.

“How do you know? Where did you get all this information?” Jounouchi growled.

“I’m Gozaburo’s new assistant,” Namu finally spoke. “I know about Otogi and… his fate. I can help you, if you can help me. Leave your place, and come to the KaibaCorp. building.”

“And then what? Coffee with cake?” Jounouchi moved with his fingers over the buttons again, but there was no answer. The line was dead, though the electricity was still on – Namu had ceased communication.

Yuugi turned towards the others who had listened, maintaining his calm exterior. This was no moment to start panicking, despite the news they just received.

“Anzu-san, Honda-kun, Jounouchi-kun, I want to talk to you immediately,” he said. “The rest of you – I want you to start collecting food, water, candles, clothing, blankets. Wake the children and tell them to pack their belongings. Have them wear as many clothes as possible. Tell them that we are relocating, not that we’re expecting an attack.”

He looked at the people, seeing the first signs of panic. Hands were wrung, eyes were twitching, lips were curling… he pushed his own feelings of growing anxiety and terror away, reminding himself to focus on his group, on the people he cared for. He wanted them to survive – they were his friends, his family.

“Don’t allow yourself to panic,” he continued. “There’s no need to panic. Get your things and assemble at the entrance in rows of two. Don’t dawdle, but don’t panic either.”

At his gesture with his hand, everyone except for him and his friends left the room, even Shizuka. She protested vehemently, but Jounouchi told her to start packing. He would help her as soon as he was able to. Yuugi was about to say something when he saw Isis, Malik and Bakura standing next to the table, they hadn’t moved.

“I would like to have a private word with you, Yuugi,” the woman said, and she sounded pleading, urgent, instead of commanding.

“I understand, Isis-san, but we have a lot to discuss, and I…”

“Please,” Malik said. Everybody but Bakura and Isis looked at him, quite dumbfounded. They had never heard Malik say ‘please’ before, and certainly not as genuinely worried and urging like this.

“We can wait a few moments outside,” Anzu said, and before Jounouchi could protest, she grabbed his ear and started dragging him outside the room. Honda followed, snickering, and his comment got lost in the several “Ouch!” cries from Jounouchi. “Not the ear!”

Yuugi expected Malik and Bakura to stay as well, especially since the former had said ‘please’, but he left after a concerned look at his sister. Isis straightened herself, lacing her fingers together, patiently waiting until her brother and Bakura had left and they were the only two remaining in the room.

“What can I do for you, Isis-san?”

She didn’t hesitate for a second. “I have had visions,” she said, “visions of the future, intense visions. They were more than mere glimpses, and I need my Tauk to… confirm some of these visions.”

From all the things he had expected her to ask, this was the very last one of them. When Isis had defected and allowed herself to be captured, she had all but thrown the Item, wrapped in a cotton cloth, at him and had never asked for it again.

“You want your Item, Isis-san..? But…”

“It is not my Item,” she quickly interrupted him. “The Sennen Items are the instruments of good and prosperity, and they are officially the Pharaoh’s… not that he is the right person to have them right now, but…” She shifted her arms, hugging herself as if cold. “My brother and his friend are in grave danger, and so are you.”

Yuugi waited for her to continue as he ignored the sudden clenching of his stomach. They were having such a great evening together, why had it always to be ruined with darkness and despair?

“Malik knows about this,” Isis said. “The only reason why I don’t want him to hear this, is that it will upset and anger him, and when my brother is angry… you have to understand, Yuugi.”

“I understand,” he said, though he really didn’t understand it. What was she talking about?

“The Pharaoh has two… bodyguards,” she said, sounding dejected. “These two are the spitting images of my brother and his friend, and they even listen to almost similar names: Marik and Bakura. I met them a few times, and they are what is keeping the Pharaoh insane, even though they think the opposite. He is dragged down by their hatred, their lust for violence, their passion for darkness. You have to understand, Yuugi, that many things about us Generals are shrouded in mystery. We do not even know ourselves where we hail from and what our past is. What I do know, is that we owe loyalty to the Pharaoh, not to Gozaburo.”

“Mahaado-san told me something like that, yes,” Yuugi said. At least that was something he could understand.

“Mahaado knows, yes.” She looked sad and determined at the same time. “In one of my visions, I saw everyone of us at the Pharaoh’s court. We were filled with respect and honor for him, feeling grateful that we were serving him. I do not know how I came into Gozaburo’s service, and how those other two… Marik and Bakura… came to exist. I have no idea, but I do know that they are dangerous.”

“If they are his bodyguards, I’m sure they will accompany him wherever he goes?”

“They will.”

Yuugi scratched at the back of his head. “I don’t think I can follow everything, Isis-san…”

“It is not really necessary to understand everything,” she said. “All that you have to understand is that you are in danger, as well as my brother and his friend. I have told them, and they know what to do. They know the risk, and they are willing to take it. Marik and Bakura are their opposites, their dark sides, the violent part of their souls. If they confront each other, they will cancel each other out.”

“What? You mean that they will die?”

She shook her head. Her fingers dug into her own shoulders. “My brother and Bakura are stronger than those dark sides,” she said, and her eyes flashed something akin anger. “They have fought worse battles than this, and they have always won. Those bodyguards will not be the problem, the Pharaoh will be. Whatever happens, you must not allow him to summon a God – if he manages to summon one, all hope is lost.”

“Did your vision show you something about…”

“Nothing about a possible outcome.” Isis lowered her eyes. “Just a few things that I need to… verify. The Tauk must work... please let me have it.”

Yuugi remained silent. She was standing in front of him, a little taller than he was. An aura of grandeur and majesty was surrounding her, determination radiating off of her…but he could see the troubled fear in her eyes.

“Very well,” he gave in. “I will get it for you then, Isis-san. Just a moment, please.”

She seemed to have forgotten all about him as she stared blankly at him. Yuugi didn’t await her answer and hurried out of the meeting room. Malik and Bakura, who were leaning against the wall, immediately straightened themselves, Malik’s eyes blinking in curiosity. He went past them hurriedly. It wasn’t his intention to avoid them, but he couldn’t afford the time to stand still and discuss things. He managed to overhear some of the discussion between Honda, Anzu and Jounouchi, still waiting patiently outside.

“This Namu guy can get us in to the KaibaCorp. building,” Jounouchi exclaimed heatedly.

“I can’t believe you,” Honda looked like he wanted to smack someone, preferably his friend, upside the head. “Remember what Otogi has said? That we couldn’t trust his transmission? And now, suddenly a ‘friend’ broadcasts on his behalf? A ‘friend’ we never heard Otogi talk about, a ‘friend’ who is hell-bent to get us to come to the building to give us some codes, just like that? Wake up and smell the trap!”

“If we know it’s a trap, it’s not a trap anymore,” Jounouchi hissed in return, poking Honda at the shoulder. Yuugi’s troubled mind shut them out for now and he went into the house, leaving the basement behind him. It was eerily silent, as usual. It felt strange, because he knew a General was upstairs, a General who kept himself perfectly to his promise. Would Mahaado be pleased when he was told about the broadcast? That his Pharaoh was really coming for him, just as he expected… believed… wanted?

------------------------

Previous chapters: Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Yu-Gi-Oh!, Outside the Box, Delusionshipping (Pandora/Catherine)

Wed, 28 Jan 2009 08:19:25 GMT

Title: Outside the Box
Fandom: Yi-Gi-Oh!
Pairing: Delusionshipping (Pandora x Catherine)
Genre: angst, angst!
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Left alone, Pandora can do nothing but to think of the woman who once was so close to him.
Author’s note: for dindella's request and birthday. Happy birthday, dear!

------------------------------

Wait for me, Catherine.

I know I did horrible things. I cheated. I lied. I even tried to kill. I thought his life was worth nothing compared to yours, nothing compared to having you back in my arms again. To feel your arms around me, to hear your sound heartbeat, to caress your hair. I even allowed my mind to be invaded, to be controlled, just for you.

Just wait for me, please.

We had such a good time together. Travelling around the world, performing at the most marvelous theatres. I was the one and only magician for you, and you were everything to me. The way you moved, the way you talked, the way you laughed…

Cheap tricks. I, who used to be a respected magician, used cheap tricks to get you back. I never stopped to think that it was wrong. I never hesitated when offered the chance. I simply submitted, gave it out of my hands, only to get you back.

Wait for me.

You never asked why I called myself Pandora, did you, my love? It was so obvious, so cliché. The box… Pandora’s box. I once hoped to give you a much smaller box, a tiny little box, containing that special ring for your finger. France, we would go to France and start all over again. But I couldn’t see, the bandages were in the way, the world was in the way, and I felt trapped in that box I named myself after.

I was wrong in so many ways. Forgive me, darling. I was trapped, I was enclosed, and when I took off the bandages, you were already gone.

Wait, just wait.

I don’t have any more tricks up my sleeve. I’ve made so many mistakes. I pushed you away, I let you go. I rebuked you, while all you wanted to do was to help me. How could you help me, you, with your perfect face, your perfect body, your perfect skin? My face was gone. I look like a monster.

The explosion wasn’t your fault. I guess it was mine, or maybe it was Murphy’s law; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I never bothered to investigate the accident; I was too much caught up in my own pain, in my own pity, my own sadness. Little did I see yours, my dear, you who I drove away.

It was just a kid who approached me, clad in some weird dark purple cloak, but I couldn’t care less. He promised me the world - he promised me you.

You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you, Catherine? My dear, my doll, my perfect angel. I never forget how you stood by my side, and I never forget how I yelled at you to leave me be.

Wait.

I was out there in the cold, in the rain, and he promised I could get my sun and my world back. I was going to hold you in my arms again, after I defeated some kid in a duel. I knew the game, having played it myself before; not at tournament level yet, as I was far too busy with my show. Within a few weeks, I had mastered the level and had become known as “The Black Magician user”, fancying the card that reflected me - the magician. The former magician. With my face damaged like this, I had to hide behind a mask; no one would want to see a performer this badly scarred, this ugly…

…but I knew you would. You tried to touch me at the hospital, to comfort me. You were reaching for me, outside of the box. You never cared much for superficial beauty, or for money, my sweetheart… you cared for the heart, you cared for the person underneath the surface, you cared for what was inside.

I didn’t.

I cut the cards so I could cheat when shuffling my deck. I devised strategies to defeat this Yuugi kid who used the Black Magician just like me. I knew his deck, I knew he was going to protect his Black Magician at all costs. I build my deck to strengthen and fortify my Black Magician, and to sacrifice him if possible.

And so I did.

I sacrificed my Black Magician, just as I sacrificed my soul to this youngster who waited for me when I left the hospital. He latched himself onto me, the master controlling the puppet, waving some golden artifact around and the empty promise of being reunited with the one I loved.

It was all empty from the beginning. I should’ve known better, but I was still trapped in my box, the walls holing me in, preventing me from looking outside, from looking up. I could only stare in front of me, at another wall, where your name was written all over it. Catherine. I can’t forget you, I couldn’t forget you. I was only thinking about you. I still am.

Please.

I don’t know when the box collapsed. I don’t know when the walls crumbled. I should’ve taken a better look at my own name. Pandora. Pandora’s Box. After everything that was unleashed from it, only one thing was left behind.

Hope.

I’m going to find you, Catherine. I’m going to hold you in my arms again. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care if I have to cheat again. I will tell every lie in the whole wide world if that means I can get you back. I will kill everyone in the whole wide world if that means we can be together. I will reduce every population to one single person - you - if that means I can find you that way.

I will sell my soul once again if that means I can finally rest in your arms and hold you dear.

Just wait for me, Catherine. Just wait.

Please.

-------------------------

Gundam Wing, In These Arms, Heero/Duo

Wed, 28 Jan 2009 08:13:13 GMT

Title: In These Arms
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairing: Heero Yuy x Duo Maxwell
Warnings: Shounen-ai
Summary: Even in the darkest times in the bleakest future, there are still special days to celebrate.
Author’s note: birthday gift fic for clarediva Clare! ♥ ♥ *supersmooch* Happy birthday, dear! For those who are curious: “Dertig” means ‘thirty’ in Dutch, as a little hommage to the number system in GW ^__^

--------------------

I wish I had a moment to sit down. I wish I had a moment to think. I wish I had the time to indulge myself in something else but warfare. A simple bath, for instance. Or a nice dinner, with real, good food. To get up on a morning without wondering which nation has been invaded now. I don’t have much of a choice, unfortunately. No one knew that the future would turn out like this. After the Eve wars, we send our Gundams to the sun for destruction, to send a message of hope. We wanted to show the world that there would be no more need for firepower, for another war, for grief. It went well for another five years - and then a new Alliance rose to power, quicker and more fanatical than anyone could ever predict.

Relena disappeared immediately, and not to a safehouse. To this day, we haven’t found her, and I fear for her safety. Romefeller had her in their clutches once before, planning to use her as a mere sock puppet for their own gain. What’s keeping people from using her again? The current ruler, Colonel Dertig is a bastard, a man who’s not above manipulation. I’m sure he has a hand in Relena’s disappearance - and if necessary, I will force my way into his headquarters and ask him…man to man.

The scientists are all dead, and with them a lot of knowledge and competence is gone. We don’t have our Gundams anymore, or the technology needed to rebuild them. Our message of hope and peace has been trampled upon, discarded like trash. The only thing we could do, was to organize a resistance movement and to set up an underground communications network. All five of us have dealt with this before as experienced, former Gundam pilots, and so we weren’t really surprised when people started looking to us for salvation.

I snort as I knock on the heavy, metal door. I have secured a certain package that I wish to give to the recipient personally. Salvation? Idiocy, pure idiocy, but people were desperate. They were civilians, I couldn’t - and can’t - expect military structure or discipline of them. All that they needed was a strong leader, and when they found five, no one but the infamous Gundam pilots themselves, they were all but ready to fall down to their knees and worship us.

It’s bittersweet. I have never forgotten how society used to despise us, how we were used as gears in the machine of war. That’s not ever going to happen again. We have claimed our rightful position, and this time, the tables have turned. I really wish it didn’t happen for the third time. For all that people think of me as a ‘perfect soldier’, I’m abhorred by war. It’s not necessary. It’s grief and pain and death, and it could’ve been avoided… if people just believed in hope.

The men in the hallway salute to me, pressing their backs straight to the wall. I’m not even thirty and I’m a war veteran. I see men much older than me saluting me, and taking my word for as if I were God. I used to be a pilot, toyed between alliances, factions and movements, and now I’m the head of my own movement. We’re the resistance, and it’s pathetic that it took another war for everyone to value us as the people we are. We’re not freaks. We’re not sniffling, whimpering war orphans. We’re not cold blood killers. We wanted peace so bad, and it’s not our fault that it got wasted. That doesn’t mean that I’m happy with the situation.

“There you are, Heero.” Quatre looks up from a giant map, spread out on a large table top, corners taped down. He uses colored pins to mark the new Alliance’s movements, Dertig’s troops, and the locations of our allies, people who sympathize with us, people who actively work for us. Too many are afraid of being involved, innocent civilians who look to others to solve the problem. I can’t blame them. Heck, I rather want to be at a decent job and earn my money to pay my monthly bills too than to be the center of a resistance movement again. There’s nothing I can do about it now - and even if I weren’t involved right now, there would be the inevitable moment that people would come to my doorstep, asking for help…

Quatre smiles at me, albeit a little tiredly. He’s been working non-stop, but it’s reassuring to see him smile - the day Quatre Winner doesn’t smile is the day when another apocalypse is upon us. It’s human, and reminds me that it’s not our fault that war broke out anew, and that no one but Dertig and his cronies are to blame for this situation.

“Has Trowa returned yet?” I ask.

“I’m waiting for his message,” Quatre nods at a dark green pin in the northeast corner of the map. We divided the resistance into smaller cells, spread out over the continents and space colonies. Quatre’s the master planner and the main financer of the communications network, which he was fortunate enough to secure before all hell broke out. We are experienced soldiers, even in times of peace; Quatre only had a few years to rebuild his company, but he was quick to react when Dertig seized control. Not thirty yet, and a war veteran, just like the rest of us - it’s actually quite saddening.

He looks at the small package in my hand, clutched to my chest. Another smile, this time warmer, more brilliant. He knows why I did everything I did to get that particular package, and he nods, almost solemnly.

“Wufei called in this morning,” he says, not touching the subject of the package. Quatre barely talks about private situations anyway. This war has hardened him - he hasn’t lost his faith in humanity, in the strength of love and friendship, but he has seen too much to count on hope unconditionally. It’s actually quite sad, to see the one with the most emotions and heartwarming feelings getting numbed by the tragedies of war. I know we deal with it in different ways, but I hope Quatre will never lose his beliefs. It would be one apocalyps after another, that’s for sure.

“What did he have to say?”

“There has been an uproar lately,” he says, heaving a deep sigh. “The national parliament has been all but replaced with Dertig sympathizers. Wufei intercepted their communications, but it was nothing new.”

Wufei is leader of the resistance in the asian countries, concentrating on China. Economy had been booming there, and it was just a matter of time before Dertig would move his pawns there. I rake my hand through my hair. It’s not something I want to think of right now. Quatre makes a movement with his head, as if he wants to dismiss me. His lips form the words “He’s waiting for you”, and I blush. Oh yes. The great Heero Yuy blushes.

A little bit too brusquely, I turn around and leave Quatre with his map. Package secured in my hand, I go looking for him, the one everyone knows who belongs to me. I’m not blushing about that. I’m just as much his as he is mine.

“Where is lt. Maxwell?” I ask a man who holds a bunch of papers in his hands. He salutes and points to the hallway. There’s actually no need for military ranks, but we decided that we didn’t want to be addressed with our first names (too familiar) or our last names (too distant), so we simply tacked ranks to it to create slight distance, but still be approachable to our allies. Of course, only the five of us refer to each other with our first name, except for Wufei.

I should’ve known Duo is in his room. This day is special, and he deserves some time alone. He still is our stealth expert, and Quatre uses him for every scouting and data retrieval mission. There’s no one but Duo who can blend with the shadows so well and return with everything needed without being spotted. I knock on the door, but don’t wait for his permission to enter. He should know that it’s me. It always goes like this on this special day.

“Duo,” I say as I take off my coat and throw it on the bed. His room is devoid of any luxury and frills. He’s only here to sleep, and he often goes to my room. He doesn’t like to sleep alone. My room is just as small.. it’s not about the space or the bed. It’s about warmth and comfort, and we find that with each other. I don’t care how sparse or how gray my room is, if Duo’s there, there’s warmth and comfort.

He doesn’t answer, just sits on the only chair, his back turned to me. Ever since this war broke out, Duo dresses in all black. I miss the clerical white collar, and the bright red sweater he once wore…but I should never forget that this is the God of Death. I move towards him, and he turns his head around. His eyes have lost the typical roundness, they appear much smaller, much more cynical and harsh. It’s the toll of war, and it saddens me. I know I don’t look the very same either, but both Duo and Quatre didn’t deserve to change like this. They shouldn’t be tainted by war… but this is reality, the hard reality.

He breaks out in a smile, and he twists his body on the chair, turning towards me. Despite physical changes, Duo didn’t suffer changes in his personality. The master of stealth is loud in bed, loud in the hallway, and loud when he agrees or disagrees. The God of Death fights harder for any kind of life than anyone else, and his smile is still the most beautiful in the entire world, heaven, and hell.

“Happy birthday, Duo,” I say and I hand him the package. He looks confused, not knowing whether to accept it or not. Years ago, in a rare moment when we were all together, the topic of birthdays had come up. As the majority of us were war orphans, we assigned each other a date for his birthday, just for fun. Little did we know we would keep each other to it - only not always with cake, balloons, or presents. In the middle of a war, it’s pretty strange to see a carefully wrapped present in one’s hand.

He finally takes it from me, curiosity on his face. For a second, a very small second I see the traits on his face that he used to have - that heartshaped, almost childish face, with round cheeks and wider eyes, and the enthusiastic glee that made me fall for him. I love Duo Maxwell, my own Shinigami. He returns the feelings, and we’ve been together for quite a few years now; he’s the only one I need. Without him, I couldn’t do this again. Not another war. I need him by my side. I need his arms around him. I need to see him, hear him, touch him. I take a step closer and put my hand on his shoulder as he unwraps the package. He looks up at me, his tongue in the corner of his mouth, a small kid eagerly wanting to know what’s inside. It’s a small, rectangular box and he examines on how to open it. He finds the small button for the lid to pop open, and he presses it.

“Heero…”

I’ve seen him naked. I’ve seen him in tears. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him in despair. I’ve seen him laughing out loud. I’ve never seen him really silent, though. Duo Maxwell and silence aren’t exactly friends. I wonder if this gift…is maybe a little too much. A little too close to home. We’re all soldiers…we’re all humans…and we deal with things differently. Duo pretty much had the shittiest youth of us all, pardon my language. The church, death, the plague…

“I know you lost it during a scouting mission,” I say. My grip on his shoulder tightens. It was during the same mission that he took a bullet there. It wasn’t his fault, we had a traitor in the group. I personally took care of that…burden.

He stares at the jewellery.

“I can’t.”

I’m not Sister Helen. I’m not Father Maxwell. I’m Heero Yuy. A name that brought me tears, a name that brought me joy. A name that spills over his lips in a way that only he can - a name that only moves me when he says it.

Reaching past him, I take the necklace out of the small box. Instinctively, he lifts up his head, freeing up his neck. I brush my hand past the thick, heavy braid that seems to lengthen every year. Even for me, he won’t let it down, not even in the most intimate of our moments. Death. Destruction. Dertig and his men.

“Allow me.”

I put it around his neck, the silver crucifix that has taken me a year to find. It’s not his original, unfortunately - I immediately went to the spot after I dealt with the… liability of the group, but I couldn’t find it. The terrain was too rough, and there was a strong current in the river nearby. It was impossible to find it again. He was devastated, and I should’ve allowed the God of Death to take the life of the double-crosser. Duo didn’t think it was worth it, but I did. I don’t care for more blood on my hands.

The click of the clasp isn’t audible, but as soon as it’s fastened around his neck, Duo moves his hand and caresses it, a familiar gesture that he even continued after losing the original jewellery. He moves his head backwards, his smile radiating so brightly that it puts Quatre to shame.

“Thank you.”

The night we became lovers, was the night we became really adults. We were still kids, even when piloting ridiculously tall and heavy mecha. Kids in a war, and our hormones were suppressed by tactical use of weapons and fighting for peace. We were friends, even if I denied it in the beginning, not feeling very comfortable with the thought of ‘friends’. Duo was stubborn, and kept in touch with me during the short interlude of peace we had.

Ironically it took a third war to bring us really together. When Quatre called out to us to set up the resistance, he didn’t bat an eye when we walked in at the same time. He mentioned later to me that he was surprised though, that we weren’t holding hands. I never told him that even then, we still hadn’t made our feelings for each other known - that was a week after. Our first time was mechanical, awkward even, and the morning after we were both confused. Was this really what we wanted? Why did we even do that? There was no candlelight, no piano music, no roses. There was pressure of an upcoming and fast raging war, the need to fight, the need to survive once more.

It was at that moment that we decided to survive together, I think. We both didn’t want to face another war alone. We felt something, even if it was the thinnest thread holding us together. We silently took each other into an embrance, strong arms holding each other, and then we were ‘an unit’, as Trowa likes to say, and the people around us are used to see us together. No one questions it, no one blinks, it’s just completely normal. As it should be. During the years, we’ve grown closer, the awkwardness disappeared, melted away, and we finally admitted love…real, genuine love. After that, our nights together were far from mechanical, as we finally knew how to respond and react to one another.

He stands up and turns around, hand still on the crucifix.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he whispers. I know he’s thinking of Sister Helen and the first crucifix he had. It was hers… given to him in her very last moment. This is a new one, given to him on a very special day, his own birthday. I don’t know if it’s healthy to tie such intense emotions to an inanimate object, but I know Duo’s sadness when he lost the other one. I don’t want to see my God of Death sad. He does everything to make my life bearable, and so do I for his. We’re friends. We’re lovers. We’re together.

He opens his arms for an embrace, and I happily accept it, returning the gesture. It’s quite funny that Duo’s braid is still growing, but he isn’t; he fits perfectly under my chin. It doesn’t matter. I revel in the feeling of his arms around me. Warm, comfortable arms. A little bony at the elbows, perhaps - but that doesn’t matter either. With a soft sigh, I inhale Duo’s scent, I absorb his strength. In these arms I feel safe.

-------------------------

FFVII - Crisis Core - Take to the Sky, Zack/Cloud

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 21:15:10 GMT

Title: Take to the Sky
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII : Crisis Core
Pairings: Zack x Cloud
Genre: a little naughty, slight humor, some angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Winding down after a mission, Zack Fair takes his time to share a moment with his cadet.
Author’s note: dedicated to apollymi for reasons only known to her. *superhugs*

------------------------------

Life as a SOLDIER isn’t always bad. It’s not always good, either. It’s this strange mixture of hope, faith, anguish, honor, joy and anger. People often don’t attribute this kind of really deep thoughts to me, and I really don’t care enough to correct their opinion. I’m far too busy as it is, anyway. Life as a SOLDIER also means that you’re always busy.

This fancy hotel room is one of the few perks of the life I lead. If I had stayed in Gongaga, I’d never been able to visit this place, let alone afford it. A nice, kingsize bed, a jacuzzi, laundry service and a restaurant that serves the best and juicy steaks - what more could a man want?

The mission was supposed to be simple data retrieval, and I didn’t understand why they bothered me with it. Ever since the situation with Genesis and project G escalated, we’ve been continuously investigating leads, with and without success. They even performed an autopsy on one of the Genesis clones; fortunately I wasn’t present…I got the gory details from Tseng himself. Before we could pursue a lead to a certain dr. Hollander, Tseng gave me this unexpected order to pick up a package at Modeoheim. To my surprise, I wasn’t allowed to refuse, and he even made sure that I was accompagnied by this promising new recruit, who listened to the name Cloud Strife.

Genesis wasn’t my friend, Angeal was. Maybe Tseng thought that after his…departure and Gillian’s death, it was better for me to take a break. We’ve all been on the edge, but I didn’t feel like a needed a break. I’m not a toddler. I’m a SOLDIER damnit, ever since I was fourteen and started with the training program. I might not be as stern as Sephiroth or as strict as Angeal was, yes, I like to goof off every once in a while, and don’t get me started on ‘Loveless’- I hate that play with the passion of a thousand suns. I am who I am - and I am damn good.

The modest bouquet of flowers in the vase on the nightstand reminds me of Aerith. Flowers in Modeoheim…flowers at a hotel that’s too cheap and shoddy to rise above two stars, but still tries to reach above the average. It looks preposterous. Usually SOLDIERs are urged to finish their missions as soon as possible; Tseng however had made it clear that the data retrieval wasn’t that urgent. He just should’ve said that he thought I was in need of a break. Which I wasn’t. Honestly. Nonetheless… this bed feels mighty good. It’s soft and bouncy, not a hard, metal bunk with a thin blanket. It reminds me of Aerith too - the softness, the warmth. I wonder how she’s doing?

“Sir..?”

I look up, startled out of my thoughts. Bad, bad Zack - I shouldn’t have dropped my guard. I should’ve noticed him coming into the room.

“Yes, cadet Strife?”

“Sir, the shower is free.”

The data retrieval didn’t go as easy as Tseng or I had planned. It had been an ambush, set up by Wutai rebels. They weren’t exactly a match for me, but I was surprised when they made a summon out of nowhere - rebels with a hold of materia, just what we need. It makes me wonder how they knew of our arrival…but that’s something for Tseng to find out, or maybe even Sephiroth.

Cloud’s arm sports the bruises he sustained in the fight. He did well, disposing of a few rebels himself before he took a crippling hit to the arm. I couldn’t keep an eye on him as I was busy with the summoned monster, and when I was done, the rest had already fled. Rebels with materia but not enough firepower or strength to take us both out, fortunately.

I get up from the bed. I’m roughly his size and I have no difficulties staring directly into his eyes.

“Cloud,” I say and he shows no surprise when I address him with his first name. He should know better by now anyway.

“Sir?”

I lift my hand up and rake it through his wet hair. “You look absolutely adorable with your hair down. Just like a cute, wet little duckling.”

He takes a deep breath to say something, but I don’t allow him to. My lips are on his before he can answer; no surprise either when he immediately returns the gesture, parting his lips and responding to the kiss. He insists on calling me sir, even when no one is around, maintaining a perfect mentor-student relationship. After all, I’m not allowed to favor any cadet, and it’s pretty rare that a cadet accompanies a SOLDIER on a mission, even if it’s data retrieval only. We’re far away from ShinRa, SOLDIER and everyone else now, and I feel at ease. I know how I can make him feel at ease, too.

My hands go down, sliding over his back, and I don’t care that the front of my clothes are getting soaked because he hasn’t finished drying himself off yet.

“How often, Cloud?” I ask.

His arms are around my waist, but he doesn’t understand.

“Sir..?”

“How often?” I repeat, my fingers slipping between towel and bare skin.

“Not often enough,” he breathes and it comes out chortled as he tries to cough to cover it up. I can’t help but laugh, my chest heaving against his. I remove my hands and before he can mourn the loss, I give him a whack on his firm ass. He can stand it. More so, he clings tighter to me, unabashedly grunting.

“Sir…”

“Zack,” I whisper in his ear, tilting my head and leaning into him, my teeth grazing his earlobe.

“Zack,” he finally says, sounding relieved. I don’t think he was afraid during the rebel attack, or that he’s afraid now. He just needs to relax, to realize that we’re safe. You can’t train people the thrill and the adrenaline rush during and after a fight. You need to come down after you physically exerted yourself, fighting for your life, facing a monster - and it’s not only that. We’re still searching and exploring, trying to adjust ourselves to one another. It’s not that easy. It’s not like we declared undying love the first time we met.

That was during our first mission to Modeoheim, by the way. Our helicopter crashed due to an incoming monster, right in the mountain range. We bonded over the fact that we were both from the countryside, and I was impressed how he held up while trekking through the bitter cold landscape. We couldn’t get a signal trough to the rescue team, and we couldn’t make it to the city in time. A storm surprised us, forcing us to improvise while setting up camp. We were stuck together in our makeshift tent, and I suggested to share bodyheat. Cloud murmured something under his breath and quite demurely, hugged himself. I made fun of him and pressed closer, jokingly. He never protested, not even when I started nipping at the base of his neck. Our clothes came off that night and needless to say, we weren’t bothered by the cold at all. His touches were hesitant at first, as were mine; honestly, I didn’t mean to go all the way immediately.

I’m his superior. I can easily force him to do things he disagrees with, just by abusing my rank. I know it happens, there are always bad apples around. I don’t want to be an imposing asshole who takes advantage of power differentials. Cloud showed me that he enjoyed it and didn’t think of me that way; moreso, he took the initiative to kiss me soon after, and we rolled on top of each other again, almost taking the entire tent with us. I know Tseng and the other army dudes didn’t notice; it was extremely bad weather and not to mention, completely dark. I love the mountains.

Now is the first time that I see him naked in the light of day. I considered joining him in the shower, but decided against it. Like I said, I’m a SOLDIER. We don’t do fluffy romance - even if it’s efficient to share a shower - and we don’t do long-term relationships. Not with what we are. Monsters or heroes, I’m still not very sure.

I know what made me change my mind to think of SOLDIERs as lovers. It was because of Cloud, who leans against me. He’s touching me, checking for injuries - now that does take the fun out of an embrace like this, doesn’t it? I bite down on his earlobe. He gasps.

“I’m fine.”

“That monster…”

“It wasn’t a high-level monster. Leave it be.”

“Sir… Zack…”

People will ask questions if we refer to each other too familiarly in the ranks of SOLDIER, but here, at a hotel room in Modeoheim, we can forget what and who we are. What future does our…interaction have? I don’t know. I thought when I crashed through the ceiling of a church and heard the voice of an angel calling “Hello? Hellooo?” out to me, I had found love. I thought I had found friendship with my mentor, who turned out to follow Genesis’ path, or so it seems. I thought that being a SOLDIER first-class was my ultimate goal, and when Lazard granted me that rank, I felt emptier like ever before.

Cloud doesn’t make me feel empty. He’s a handful, literally - I untie the towel and let it fall down, to pool around his ankles. He’s in perfect shape and condition, except for those bruises, and I see a particular nasty one on his back. Cloud’s done with checking me over as well, and I know what he wants to say, because he can’t let it go.

“You can say it one more time,” I interrupt him before he can start.

“Zack,” he says and I can hear from his voice that he surpresses a laugh. His hand is in my hair. “You stink.”

“Well excuse me,” I protest. “I had to protect you from a big, bad monster.”

“You should’ve showered with me,” he says and I notice his grip has become even tighter.

What are we searching for? Protection? Reassurance? We’re supposed to stand on our own two feet, independent, able to take care of our own business. Does that mean we have to be alone for the rest of our lives? Relationships aren’t forbidden for SOLDIERs, but like this, blurring the line between superior and subordinate… my hands are caressing his bare skin, touching his naked flesh. He feels warm, soft, and he smells good. I know his fingers are calloused, I see small scars, his hair starts to dry. He’s Cloud, and he’s…the sky.

“Let me hear it one more time,” I say, teasingly, hands on his hips again.

“Zack,” he repeats my name like a good little soldier, like the first-class cadet he is. Distance and proximity, naked lust and demure chastity, sun and sky, dark and moon, night and rain. I know he’s inhaling my scent, despite my less-than-clean appearance. I allowed him to shower first, because I like looking at his body. He’s strong, he’s going to get far in the ranks of SOLDIER. With or without me, but as far as I’m concerned, I see myself by his side. Comrade, brother and lover in arms.

He starts plucking at my clothes, his fingers grasping the fabric. I start tugging as well, shifting and pushing a little, to move him towards the bed. He brushes his lips past mine, I can see the smile on his face. Yes, he’s the sky. My sky. I wanted to be a hero, I wanted to follow my dreams, but now all I want to do is to take to the sky, where my Cloud is.

-------------------------------

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 08:33:15 GMT

Title: Duo Maxwell and the Never-Ending Circle
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings : to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa
Genre: action, adventure, light romance
Warnings : shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise, Shotsu Agency. Fic written for entertainment purposes only. No money is made off of this.
Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father’s name. Soon, Duo’s to find out that there’s much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined…
Author's notes: Fic influenced by the “Tomb Raider” concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Extra Author's note: This was the original entry to the GWyaoi.Org Novella Challenge 2006. Since then, I have severely edited and re-written the fic (especially the ending, as several reviewers pointed out it was rushed and not satisfying. I agree).
Extra Extra Author’s note: I tried to construct a Japanese equivalent to God of Life as opposed to Shinigami, God of Death. I asked someone with greater knowledge of the language, and settled for Inochi no Kami = Inochigami. This is strictly my interpretation and more than probably not grammatically correct, but it fits the story. *hides artistic license*

Key: ----------- = scene change

----------------------

It was late, very late when the police car drove up to Maxwell Manor. Duo, wrapped in blankets, was dozing on the back seat. His ears were still ringing from the screeching sounds of metal on metal, his eyes were still showing him the memories of what had happened, like a CD playing over and over again. His body couldn’t quite stop trembling. Paramedics had examined him after arriving at the scene, telling him that he was in shock - it had taken Duo quite some smooth talking to not be brought to the emergency room. He insisted that he was okay, that he could deal with it. He wasn’t injured but for some cuts and scrapes from the broken glass, and he finally managed to distract the paramedics by focusing their attention on his chauffeur. The man had gained consciousness, only to lose it immediately again; he wasn’t in any state to answer the questions of the police, and he was taken to the hospital right away. Duo was exhausted and wanted to go home. He didn’t have an explanation for the disappearance of the other drivers either, and when the police questioned him, he could only repeat that he wanted to go home. Through the years, the Maxwell family had always been on good standing with the local police force and their commissioner and much to Duo’s relief, nobody gave him a hard time and offered him a ride home.

While they were driving, Duo was thinking about what happened, but aside his ringing ears and the flashing images in front of his eyes of the car hitting the limousine, full impact, there was nothing his mind could come up with. He was drawing a total blank here, not even thinking of Khushrenada or Merquise…strangely enough, he was thinking of Heero, of being held, of being protected. He looked at his hands - still trembling - and wished that he was home already.

As if the man had psychic powers, Hillary was waiting for him on the large steps of the Manor, every light on, the large oak door wide open. Genuine concern etched his face, and he quickly descended the steps as the car came to a halt.

Hillary all but yanked the door open. “Master Maxwell, you are so late…what happened?”

“Nothing much,” Duo answered too lightly, as he got out of the car. He looked completely dishevelled and his voice dropped a little when he asked: “Any news?”

The butler heaved an overly dramatic sigh. When both the Maxwell brothers still were going on expeditions, he was used to get news from all over the world about the trouble they got themselves into, be it with any political force, the law or bad people in general. Duo apparently still had that perfect nose for trouble, judging from the police car that had brought him home and the state he was in. Duo already started to climb the steps, and after a quick “Thank you” to the two officers in the car, Hillary hurried after his master.

“Master Maxwell, I will call the shiatsu therapist to see you as soon as possible, and you need a bath, and your suit…!”

“Any news?” Duo repeated stubbornly, shedding the jacket and dropping it unceremoniously on the hallway floor. Hillary shook his head and closed the door. The loud echo made Duo jump. The butler pretended not to notice and turned around to pick up a few files from the small mahogany side table.

“Miss Schbeiker identified the Chinese man for you,” he said, handing Duo the first file. Hillary cringed when Duo flopped down on one of the large sofas, shoes scraping over the fragile fabric.

“Chang Wufei, presumedly the last descendant of the infamous Chang clan in charge of the L5 colony and their subsequent self-destruction,” the butler supplied.

“That happened ages ago, during the First War between Earth and the space colonies,” Duo murmured. “He’s far too young to have witnessed that.”

“Exactly, but the Chang clan was not eradicated with the tragic self-destruction of L5. Apparently there have been some…stray, or estranged, clan masters and descendants in the rural, more secluded areas of China. Wufei is believed to be one of those, raised in the most ancient and fanatic traditions of the Chang clan. A dragon is their sign, of course - and their gi is a variation on the gi we know from the Japanese culture, only theirs is longer. Slightly impractical, but well…that is their tradition, I guess.”

Duo leafed through the papers, not bothering to read the small text. “No criminal record, no education or job records...not even an official identification, nothing! This guy is a ghost! How in the hell was Hilde able to find him?”

“You will have to ask Miss Schbeiker yourself,” Hillary said, grinning uncharacteristically. “I am sure she will be very pleased with your...ah, compliments.”

Duo laughed, regretting it the next second as his ribs started to ache. He’d been damn lucky to survive such an accident with only cuts and bruises. His body was aching all over, but that was nothing compared to the injuries of his chauffeur. It had been fairly obvious the man had broken ribs and a concussion, maybe even a skull fracture - he made a quick mental note to check up on the man soon. The driver of the car that had rear-ended them should’ve been dead by force of the impact; how could he have gotten away? Duo shivered and swung his legs over the sofa. He stood up and swayed a little to the left before he found his balance again. Yes, he really needed to go to bed.

“What about the other file?”

“Master Howard wants to talk to you about the artifact, the staff in particular,” Hillary said. “He has found something in late Master Winner’s notes and was able to find some legends on the subject. He also managed to expand on late Master Winner’s notes. He spent the entire day studying them.”

“Good ol’ Howard,” Duo muttered. “As soon as possible, or…?” Knowing Howard, he appreciated being called immediately, no matter what the hour.

“As soon as you got home, Master Maxwell. He didn’t mind the time.”

“I thought so. Oh, one more thing, Hillary…”

“Yes?”

“Have my office extensively swept for bugs of the tiniest and most annoying kind,” Duo said, though his voice lacked any vehemence. “That’ll be all.”

“Of course, Master Maxwell. Thank you, and have a good night.”

“Good night,” Duo replied, not bothering to stifle a yawn as he tugged at his shirt. He had forgotten that he had thrown his jacket on the floor earlier. It was morning already, he could see the sun rising through the large windows. He didn’t need another reminder that he needed some sleep. He was exhausted.

Lost in thought, Duo crossed the large hallway, his steps smothered by the thick carpet. The same carpet was put in all the rooms on the first floor, except for the music room. His father had installed a wooden floor there to heighten the acoustic experience. Duo never played on the grand Bösendorfer, he had loathed the boring music lessons. Solo had adored the piano, and that was the only reason it was still in the house.

There was no sound but the ticking of the large clock in the hallway. It was so loud he could even hear it all the way up here, on the first floor. A small shiver ran down his spine. The clock was one of the many heirlooms of the Maxwell family, a monument still standing century after century, simply ticking. Duo shivered again. The clock reminded him that he was living all alone at this huge mansion. Sometimes it gave him the shivers as if his time was running out, literally. No more time to be with someone, no more time like the time he spend with Heero. His feet moved, one in front of the other. Hillary had his quarters on the ground floor, and even though Duo valued him as a friend, he wasn’t family.

Duo opened the door to his bedroom, trying to steer his train of thoughts towards more pleasant things. A hot shower for example, with some of that new shampoo he recently discovered? This Armani suit was itching, he felt like a dressed up chimp. He took off his watch and dumped it into a copper bowl on a sidetable. Snapping the tie on the end of his braid, Duo walked over to his bed, yawning again. He picked up the phone, a small smile gracing his features as he had no trouble finding Howard’s pre-programmed number. Even after everything that happened, he hadn’t dared to erase the number of one of his best friends. As the phone rang, he unbuttoned his shirt and sat down on the bed, taking off his shoes.

He heard some faint mumbling and grunting on the other side of the line and said: “Howard? You’re awake? Do you want me to call you back at a decent time?”

“No, no, Duo, it’s fine, I wanted to talk to you,” the man answered gruffly, and Duo overheard the creaking of bedsprings as well as rustling of fabric - Howard was probably putting on a robe.

“What is it you got?”

“All right, listen to this. I have searched everywhere for information on the Never-Ending Circle - the two parts, the staff and the artifact in general, comparing everything to Winner’s notes. We’re very lucky that he has been so meticulous in documenting his research; he had scanned pictures and drawings of the staff, and I used your equipment to magnify and study it.”

Duo nodded, listening to the other man. He didn’t object to him using whatever he needed.

“And?”

“I managed to track down the first and oldest of legends concerning the artifact. It mentions a certain power that broke the scythe in two, and that same power will awake when the parts are reunited again. Apparently, the God of Life and the God of Death ruled together the Earth and the universe as we know it. The God of Life initiated the circle of life of course, and the God of Death ended it, and then it started all over again. Death was never painful, and never feared. More so, death was welcomed at the end of one’s life, knowing that dying was simply the beginning of another life.”

“Sounds like some kind of utopia to me…”

“However, the people…ah…‘invented’ murder. Like Cain killed his brother? But death was only granted by the God of Death himself, that was the power he had. For whatever reason, people discovered they could take each other’s lives. As such, they devaluated their life’s worth in the eyes of the Gods, as it was never meant for people to decide when their time had come, or when to start a new circle of life. The God of Death broke his scythe in frustration because people ended lives of their own, instead of him.”

“Bitchy,” Duo said.

“The scythe being broken in two doesn’t influence its working when it’s reunited again,” Howard continued. “Thanks to Winner’s hard work, we know how he managed to locate it. For instance, he kept an eye on all kinds of rods and staffs when they were offered at auctions or black markets, and he had a lot of contacts in the field. He was the first to presume that the artifact was broken - a complete scythe was far more conspicuous and would be noticed.”

“Go on,” Duo said, standing up from his bed and wandering around aimlessly while shedding his shirt. Finally, he sank in one of the large chairs, hand trying to undo his belt.

“I studied the staff to the very detail. Khushrenada and Merquise managed to lift it from Cuba’s seabed, off the coast of the Guanahacabibes Peninsula, thanks to Winner’s preliminary research.”

“Oh yeah, the ‘lost city’,” Duo said. “That was marvellous to explore.”

“Indeed,” Howard agreed. “Winner has written about how he was able to trace it exactly to that location, but that’s far too elaborate to tell you right now. Believe me, it took him years and quite a bit of money to get so far.”

“I can imagine. And?”

“Like I said, I studied the staff itself to the very detail and noticed some very interesting, almost familiar markings. Makings that Winner wrote off as being unimportant, thinking it was the ravages of time.”

“Markings?” Duo perked up.

“Some kind of inscription,” Howard explained. “I haven’t been able to identify it, let alone translate it. I’ll come by in the morning… hmmm, make that the afternoon, to show it to you in person. Duo, I think it has something to do with the Sanq Kingdom.”

“What?” he shot up straight in the chair.

“No shit Duo, this is really real. I studied Sanq religion and mythology for years, and I used some of my own research to compare the markings. I was at least able to trace it back to the earliest discovered scriptures, but I think this incription even predates those.”

Duo was silent. Sanq was almost the same as the Holy Grail in his field of work. The country itself, so small that it hardly deserved the name, had been abandoned by its population since decades. Once, it had been a wonderful nation with an independent capital, basking in wealth and prosperity…but war had taken its toll when the land was manoeuvred and crushed between several conflicting political ambitions and factions, and Sanq’s persistent pacifistic point of view had led to its downfall. Its rich history however, was a source for continuous excavation and research. If anything, many agreed that the former kingdom of Sanq was a hidden treasure and unexplored archaeological area.

The royal family, the Peacecrafts, had been living in exile for decades as well, meanwhile making their way up in governments and political functions. Relena Peacecraft was their most prominent -and prolific- descendant. Relena. Holding Heero’s hand.

“How the hell did it end up in Cuba?”

“How the hell should I know?” Howard retorted. “That’s a question you never ask, Duo. Artifacts always pop up at the worst and strangest locations possible, you know that. It’s our sport to track them down and uncover them.”

“Your sport, maybe,” Duo snorted.

“No, your sport too,” Howard immediately shot back. “You’re good on your own, but as a team you’re unstoppable. Solo, Heero...”

“Solo ended up dead because he waited too long, and I was a young pipsqueak who thought he could take on the whole world,” Duo answered bitterly. “Heero left because of God knows what, and I haven’t even considered going on an artifact hunt ever since…”

“Then why did you accept Winner’s commission? You must’ve felt that you were ready for it, Duo, otherwise you would’ve said no, without hesitation.”

“I only accepted it because if I succeed to find the fucking thing, Winner would donate a substantial amount of money to a trust fund of my choice,” Duo answered, a little snippy. “A fund that doesn’t have anything to do with the collection or the Maxwell family.”

“You have an impressive heritage to bear, don’t keep adding to it,” Howard said. “Sooner or later, your back’s going to break.”

“My heart’s already been broken, I think my back can take it,” Duo snorted. “I’ll talk to you first thing when I wake up. Thank you, man.”

He quickly disconnected before Howard could answer, all but throwing the phone on the floor - the plush carpet would break its fall - and he buried his head in his hands tiredly. He wasn’t trembling like before, but he still couldn’t shake the images of the crash. He wanted to sleep, sleep for an entire night and day, but his body wasn’t allowing him to, no matter how exhausted he felt. It was silent, blessed silence, and he was just about to get up and move over to his bed, when a soft voice suddenly spoke:

“I’m sorry.”

“Jesus fuck!”

“That’s another way of putting it…”

“Quit sneaking up on me,” Duo said as he turned his head frantically around. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Here,” Heero said and disentangled himself from the dark bedpost - nothing but a mere shadow moving. Duo hadn’t turned on the lights in his room but for a small lamp next to the chair he was sitting in.

Duo shook his head. “Christ, Heero, it’s been a very rough night. I don’t feel like…What are you doing here anyway? We’ve only seen each other a few hours ago. You’re trespassing, by the way.”

“I know. I came here because we have…no, we need to talk,” Heero said, raking his hand through his hair, tousling it even more. “By the way, your alarm system still is in perfect condition. It took me at least four tries - impressive.”

“We are finished talking,” Duo answered him curtly.

“Goddamnit Duo, will you shut up and listen to me!”

He cowered in his chair, curling up foetus-style. Hearing Heero swear was something akin to the world coming to its end, and he protectively drew up his knees to his chest.

After a few seconds of silence, Heero closed the distance between them and sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged as if he was a casual visitor, just dropping by. He heaved a sigh before starting to talk.

“Duo…I don’t know where or how to begin. I know that with saying ‘sorry’ not everything is forgotten and forgiven, but this…this is going to tie in with everything that happened in the last years. I care for you, Duo, I lov…Duo, I loathe everyone who’s hurting you and I’ll do anything to protect you.”

As Duo remained silent, he continued: “This… case with the Never-Ending Circle is too much for one person alone, Duo. You have no idea about the things that have been going on, and it’ll grow above your head soon.”

“You said that before… how about indulging me?” Duo said, wrapping his arms around his legs. He tilted his head a little. The dim light cast shadows on Heero’s face, expressing the intensity of his blue eyes - Duo felt that pang in his heart again, that familiar feeling of…longing and wanting. He had heard the little slip-up as well and reminded himself not to see or read into things that weren’t there. Maybe it was an honest slip-up. Maybe.

Heero raked another hand through his hair. He never made repetitive movements - to Duo, it was the unmistakable sign of severe trouble brewing.

“Duo…at the same time your brother died, Relena was kidnapped.”

Duo’s eyebrows went up. “What? Really?”

“Really,” Heero nodded. “She was invited by Duke Dermail of the Romefeller Foundation to talk about her father’s legacy. Before he died, he had established the first peace treaties with the colonies. When she arrived at his mansion, she quickly found out that she wasn’t going to leave…Dermail wanted her to be a spokesperson for the Romefeller Foundation, to turn her into a puppet and use her charm and influence for his own ambitions. She could either agree, or agree- he left her little choice.”

“Spokesperson? Since when does Romefeller have any political ambitions, and how does that tie in with the Never-Ending Circle?”

“She’s a Peacecraft,” Heero said soothingly. “A descendant from a royal bloodline, a family that has played a prolific part in world history. Her name and her appearance are equal to trust and peace in this world. Dermail simply wanted to use her for propaganda purposes, as he had plans for Romefeller to become an active political party.”

Duo shifted his legs a little, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. “What kind of political party? Why do they want to venture into politics? Romefeller’s just a stuck-up club for spoiled kiddies…”

Heero showed a weak smile. “There’s much more to Romefeller than that, Duo. Why else do you think Khushrenada is such a prominent member? They have influence everywhere - the corporate world, the entertainment business, even porn and gambling - you name it, you can find a link back to Romefeller. It was only a matter of time before they would end up in politics.”

“And why the pretty princess?”

“You’ve met the guy next to Khushrenada…”

“That Merquise guy?”

“His name isn’t Zechs Merquise, but Milliardo Peacecraft.”

“Holy fuck!”

“Exactly,” Heero said, stretching a little. He threw a longing look at the comfortable chair, but remained sitting on the floor.

“Milliardo Peacecraft works for Treize Khushrenada? I still don’t see what it all has to do with the artifact.”

“Dirty business,” Heero muttered. “I don’t know to what extent, but a dirty game’s being played. Milliardo Peacecraft participated in the war, as an active member of the resistance when Sanq was trampled by the military. He has blood on his hands, blood that doesn’t belong on the hands of the heir of a family that is such an advocate for peace that they choose to have their country invaded by foreign forces and who reject any form of fighting or weapons.”

“So he fought for the survival of his country,” Duo said, a little grouchily. “At least he fought, instead of surrendering like his family. How many people know of this?”

“He was smart enough to not fight under his real name, choosing to go by Zechs Merquise instead, complete with mask and cover-up of his true identity. Still, there are people who know who he really is. If his secret comes out, it will immediately be connected to Relena and her prominent position in the world’s peace order.”

“The brother of the Queen of the World has taken up arms and killed, going against everything his family stands for,” Duo nodded. “It would be a huge scandal.”

“Massively,” Heero agreed. “Not only would it affect her, but the entire family as well. You know they hold high positions in power, and when the Peacecrafts are forced to resign, entire governments are going to be overthrown. They’re the ones responsible for keeping the peace - without them, there’s immediate war upon us. No one, but absolutely no one can maintain the foreign relations between the colonies and Earth like them.”

“Christ…is Romefeller deliberately pushing for another war?”

“Sort of,” Heero replied. “Like I said, I don’t know the full extent of everything, but I do know that there’s something very fishy going on. Both Relena and Milliardo are forced into doing things they don’t like as to avoid international conflicts. Relena is silent and won’t say anything to discredit her brother, and as long as Milliardo works for Khushrenada, his secret is safe, leaving his sister unharmed. Milliardo used to be a playboy who was tearing into his heritage faster than anyone could say “Black Jack”, but he wasn’t a criminal. He fought in his younger years for something he thought was good and just at that time. There was a war going on, and he saw his country going under because his father refused to defend the borders and couldn’t keep the foreign army from invading. How he ended up working for Khushrenada is a mystery to me, but they’re both protecting each other; brother helping sister, sister helping brother.”

Duo was now the one to rake through his bangs, ruffling his chestnut hair. “What a mess…but I still don’t see the connection between the Peacecrafts and the Never-Ending Circle.”

“I’m not really sure about that either. Fact is, Khushrenada wants to have it more than anything. I’m afraid he’s going to try to really use it. Duo, we both have seen many strange things, we both know that legends and myths can be true, and we both know that certain powers are not meant to be trifled with.”

“Tell me about it,” Duo shivered. He wished he had left his shirt on…it was chilly in the room. He had planned on immediately going to bed after calling Howard. Lowering his eyes a little, he looked at Heero.

“So the artifact ties somehow in to the Peacecraft family and Khushrenada, or is that a coincidence?”

“I’m not really sure what the exact connection is,” Heero repeated. “Khushrenada has Milliardo working for him, and he follows him around. I don’t know how Khushrenada found out about Milliardo. Thanks to Winner Sr., they discovered the artifact and managed to uncover the first part. Khuhsrenada plays the part of a greedy archaeologist who wants it simply for the thrill of having it, but I know better. He’s far too smart, and if there’s any power tied to the Never-Ending Circle, he’ll be sure to find a way to unleash it.”

“The power of life and death in his hands. He can start or end a war simply by swinging the scythe. He can hold the world in the palm of his hand just by the threat of war.”

“Controlling life and death isn’t a power that should be in the hands of a mortal…”

“It should be in the hands of a God.”

“Shinigami?”

“Any God of Death who knows how to handle a scythe. This artifact is dangerous, and with so many people chasing after it, each and everyone of them with different motives…”

“Very different motives,” Heero admitted.

“Why did Khushrenada hire you?”

“He wanted me to localize both parts of the Never-Ending Circle. He couldn’t get his hands on the staff anymore since Iria Winner had sealed it into the safe. I wanted to retrieve the staff myself from the safe, but you were ahead of me.”

“What about Chang Wufei?”

“He’s not a killer,” Heero immediately said. “He works for Khushrenada as well, it has to do with his honor. I don’t know why, but he’s taken some oath, a vow to work for him because he was defeated in a swordfight once. He believes strongly that the Never-Ending Circle belongs to his clan and should be returned to the Changs.”

“For revenge of the destruction of L5.” Duo hugged his knees to his chest, getting chillier by the second. “Wielding the power over life and death over millions of colonists who didn’t do a thing and only watched when L5 chose to self-destruct.”

“Chang has too much honor to be blinded by simple revenge, Duo.”

Heero suddenly rose to his feet and walked towards the bed, tugging at the large blanket lying on it. When he returned, he draped it around Duo, careful as if tucking in a child. Heero’s fingers briefly touched his bare skin when putting the blanket around him, and this time his shiver wasn’t from any chill. Heero took his time, putting much more effort than needed to drape the large piece of fabric around Duo’s shoulders, making sure he was completely tucked in.

“So, Chang works with you?”

“I barely know him,” Heero said, voice soft. “He comes and goes whenever he wants to. I’m not sure about his connection to Khushrenada, and maybe there’s no other connection than the moral obligation he’s feeling. I didn’t know that he went after you until I saw the Winner notes and the staff in Khushrenada’s office.”

So Khushrenada has the first part after all. “You have placed bugs in my office, right?”

Heero was silent.

“How else could you have known that I accepted the commission and was going to be at the charity ball?”

“I have placed bugs in your office,” Heero admitted.

“Fuck you,” Duo answered, though it lacked any anger.

“I just want to keep an eye on you. I kept tabs on Winner as soon as he approached me for the artifact - I knew you were the next he was going to.”

“Why did you decline his offer?”

“I was hard to approach,” Heero said, “indisposed as I was, climbing in the Himalayas.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing much but snow,” he answered.

“Liar.”

“Duo…You have every right to be upset with me,” Heero said. “I wanted to be at Solo’s funeral. I knew how devastated you were with his loss.”

“If people...close to you get kidnapped, the priority is different,” Duo said, voice flat.

“She’s very close, yes.”

“I didn’t know you were so thick with royalty.”

“We studied together at the Gabriel’s Institute.”

“Classy,” Duo said. Of course, it would make more of an impression if he knew how prestigious the school was. He had received private tutoring after he had been expelled from several schools. He just wasn’t the type to still still in class and obey boring teachers.

Heero was silent, studying Duo from the angle where he was standing. Duo wasn’t tense around him, he was rather at ease with his eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his cheeks, his head tilted a little. He didn’t know if it was from plain exhaustion or that Duo was simply feeling so relaxed no matter the situation.

“Why don’t we talk about this after you have rested,” he said, nudging Duo gently. “You’re tired, and we have much more to discuss. I overheard you talking at the phone, and…”

“We’re not going to work together, forget about it,” Duo answered grumpily. “Get out of the house, Heero. You gave me an explanation as to why you failed to show up at my brother’s funeral, and I accept your apology for it. You could’ve told me earlier, though. If I knew, it wouldn’t have hurt so much as it did now. I never knew Relena meant so much to you. You could’ve avoided lots of pain and hurt.”

“I know,” Heero said, matter-of-factly. “It was a mistake I’m not going to repeat. You taught me so much, and I threw it all overboard the moment I was...separated from you. I forgot about important things in life because you weren’t there…”

“It wasn’t like I dropped from the face of the Earth, you know.”

Heero placed his hands on Duo’s shoulders, the fabric of the blanket preventing him from touching bare skin.

“I made a mistake, Duo,” he repeated. “A very big mistake. After what you’ve been showing me, after what you’ve taught me, I still made a mistake. However, I never stopped loving you…I never stopped caring for you. What I did, was wrong…I deserve to be scolded - but please listen to me, Duo. This is going to be too much for one person. I want to help you, I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“I know,” Duo answered drowsily. “I’m a jerk. I’m sorry. It’s just that I keep grudges.” He barely realized he was leaning into Heero’s touch, shifting around when his fingers started moving in lazy, massaging movements.

“You have a big, warm and open heart,” Heero said. “It was my mistake for breaking it. That’s not going to happen again, never. I don’t want to see you hurt again,” he whispered, continuing the massage. “I’ll personally take care of that,”

“Hmm-mm,” Duo muttered, revelling in the comfort and warmth of the blanket, the relaxing sensations of the massage lulling him into sleep. His breathing evened out and his head sank on his chest. He didn’t notice Heero lifting him up from the chair and carrying him over to his bed, lying him down as his fingers clutched at the other’s shirt.

----------------------

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |