The Path of Vengeance

“Hey, Tristan, can I talk to you for a minute?”

The brunette in question looked up from his task of preparing a bath for his lover to see Kenji standing in the doorway. “Sure,” he replied. He stepped back into the bedroom, the guard following closely. “Seto, I’ll be right back, okay? Why don’t you start getting undressed?”

“M’kay,” Kaiba replied with a laugh. The pain medication that the doctor had prescribed was making the CEO sort of loopy.

Tristan shook his head and followed the man downstairs. “What’s going on?” he asked when they reached the study.

“Mr. Kaiba’s assistant manager at the corporation just called. He wants to know why Mr. Kaiba hasn’t been in to work.”

“Shit,” Tristan muttered. “What did you tell him?”

Kenji smiled. “That I’d have to call him back after I rescued Mokuba from the top of the swing set in the backyard.”

The teen grinned. “Good thinking. What do you think we should say?”

“Well according to the doctor it will be obvious that Mr. Kaiba was in some sort of accident. Even if you were able to keep him from going in to work until after his face has completely healed, which you won’t by the way, there will still be a nasty scar to try to explain.”

Tristan nodded. “Just tell them he was in a motorcycle accident,” he decided. “For all his bragging, Seto isn’t that great a rider.”

“That should satisfy them,” the guard agreed. He paused a moment. “How is Mr. Kaiba doing?” he asked tentatively.

“A little better,” Tristan assured him. “He’s still pretty fucked in the head but he’s getting stronger. If I know my Dragon he won’t be down for much longer.”

Kenji smiled. “He sure is lucky to have you, you know.”

“I could say the same about you,” Tristan replied respectfully.

“I’d better make that phone call,” the guard said with a slight bow. “I’ll let you know of any other issues as they arise.”

“Thank you.” Tristan watched the man leave, ever grateful for his presence. Kenji had been at the Kaiba Estate ever since the shooting, much to the upset of his wife and two children.

Heaving a sigh, he started back up the stairs. Exhaustion was starting to take its toll on him. He’d not slept more than two hours in the past five days. He needed a shower in the worst way. Sickeningly, his shirt still bore the dried blood stains it had gathered when he’d found Kaiba.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

The scream nearly caused him to lose his footing. He took off at a dead run to Kaiba’s room, coming to a stunned halt to see Mokuba standing over his brother’s prone, half dressed form on the floor. The young Kaiba looked worse for the wear as tears streamed down his face, his small hands clenched into fists.

“Mokuba, please,” Kaiba defended weakly, trying to focus through the pharmaceutical haze.

“How could you do this to me, Seto?!? Don’t you care about me? Don’t you care what happens to me?! What about the promise we made to each other? Doesn’t that matter to you?!”

Kaiba struggled into a sitting position. “I do care about you, little brother. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. I’m sorry. Please, calm down.”

“And what about Tristan? Don’t you know what you put him through? You’re so selfish, Seto!”

Tristan watched the exchange with morbid fascination. This was the first time Mokuba had spoken since the shooting and he wasn’t about to deny him his peace.

Kaiba reached out a hand to his brother but Mokuba stepped back, out of his reach. “Mokuba don’t do this, let me explain.”

“WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHING!?!” Mokuba screamed. His entire body shook with rage, his eyes glaring daggers.

“Mokuba,” Tristan called. The boy didn’t even flinch. “MOKUBA!”

Kaiba turned at the sound, relief washing through his eyes at the sight of his boyfriend. “Tristan,” he pleaded.

“Don’t turn away from me, Seto!” Mokuba yelled. “SETO!” When his brother didn’t face him again, he felt something snap within. His fist pulled back and shot forward before he even had a chance to register its movement.

Kaiba screamed as the ferocious blow landed on his bandaged cheek. Light exploded behind his right eye and he fell back again, blood quickly soaking through the dressing and spilling down his face.

Tristan darted forward and grabbed Mokuba before the boy could deliver another strike. “Come on, Mokuba,” he said firmly, pulling him from the room. “KENJI!” he yelled.

The guard came on the run. “What is it?” he asked frantically.

“Go in there with Seto, do what you can to stop the bleeding.”

Kenji’s eyes widened. “Yes, Sir,” he said before quickly darting into the room.

All the fight left the younger Kaiba and he clung to Tristan for all he was worth, sobs wracking his small frame. “I’m sorry,” he wailed.

Tristan picked him up and held him tightly as he walked into the boy’s room. “Its okay, Mokuba,” he soothed, sitting down on the bed.

Mokuba wasn’t able to understand what had just taken place. All he knew was raw emotion. Fear, anger, doubt. They had all built to colossal heights within and he had been unable to contain them any longer.

Tristan battled similar emotions. The most dominant at the moment being worry. “Mokuba,” he stated. The boy didn’t respond. With horror he remembered frightening words of Dr. Tochigi:

“Have you ever heard a gun go off?” Dr. Tochigi asked the brunette.
“No,” Tristan admitted.
“It is extremely loud. Loud enough to cause permanent damage in some victims.”

“Oh, my god,” he uttered. “Mokuba!” Nothing. He pulled the crying child off of his lap and stood him on the floor. “Can you hear me?”

Mokuba didn’t reply. His eyebrows knitted together as he watched the brunette’s lips move. “What?”

Tears pooled in Tristan’s eyes and he pulled the boy into a crushing hug. After a moment he released his hold and stood up, holding his hand out in a gesture to Mokuba to remain where he was.

He stepped back into the hallway and rushed into Kaiba’s room. “How is he?” he asked.

Kenji had removed the bandages and was holding a cloth firmly to Kaiba’s cheek. “He’ll be okay,” he said. “The bleeding’s all but stopped. You’ll probably have to put more of that ointment on it though.”

“I’ll do that,” Tristan replied. “Um, can you come here for a minute?”

Kenji heard the barely restrained hysteria in the teen’s voice and stood up. “Hold this,” he instructed Kaiba, who grasped the cloth. The man stepped into the hallway. “What now?”

Tristan coughed. “Get Dr. Tochigi here now.”

Kenji’s brow furrowed. “I really don’t think it’s necessary,” he said. “The bleeding has pretty much stopped.”

“Not for Seto,” Tristan stated. “For Mokuba.”

“What happened?” the guard asked, alarmed.

Tristan choked back a sob. “He can’t hear.”

“What?” Kenji stammered.

“Call the doctor.”


Dr. Tochigi arrived within the hour. He was ushered up to Mokuba’s room and had been there ever since. Tristan and Kenji alternated between checking on Kaiba and pacing the hallway. Every so often a loud banging would come from behind the closed door but beyond that the room was silent.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Kenji asked, the uncertainty completely out of place coming from him.

“I don’t know,” Tristan replied nervously.

Twenty minutes later Dr. Tochigi emerged from the room, closing the door behind him. “He’s falling asleep,” he cautioned, a finger to his lips.

Tristan led them into Kaiba’s office. “Will he be okay, doctor?” he asked as soon as they were closed in.

Dr. Tochigi sighed heavily. “Well, he is able to hear loud, sharp sounds in his right ear,” he began. “But nothing out of the left. He says that there is a constant ringing in his right ear, no doubt from the gunshot. Tristan, you saw the security tape, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Can you demonstrate to me where Mokuba was in proximity to the gun?”

Tristan nodded. “Kenji, come sit here,” he instructed. The guard perched on the edge of the desk. “Okay, if he’s Seto then Mokuba was here.” He bent down to the boy’s level and leaned close to Kenji.

“So he was right next to it?”

“The gun was maybe six inches from his left ear.”

Dr. Tochigi nodded sadly. “Well, I’m not a specialist,” he stated. “But my professional opinion is that the hearing loss in his left ear is likely permanent. The ringing in his right should eventually subside and until it does we won’t be able to determine the extent of its damage.”

“Oh, god,” Tristan gasped.

“He needs to see a specialist,” the doctor continued. “I’ll make a few phone calls and arrange for someone to come by to see him. It will probably be tomorrow morning.”

Tristan nodded. “Thank you, doctor. Is there anything we should be doing for him in the meantime?”

“It’s probably a good idea that he not be left alone. He’s understandably very frightened and upset. I’ve given him a minor sedative to help keep him calm.”

Tristan stopped listening. His mind was running on automatic. How many tragedies could he weather in the course of one week? He’d already missed out on Yugi’s big homecoming. If he was unable to ration his time between his lover and one of his best friends then how on earth would he be able to remain at Mokuba’s side as well?

“Tristan?”

He blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

“Hey, come here and sit down,” Kenji said, taking the brunette’s arm to keep him from falling.

Tristan flopped down into the leather armchair. “I can’t fucking do this,” he muttered.

“Hey don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Kenji said calmly. “There’s two of us, Tristan. We can manage.”

“But what about Yugi?” he stammered, more to himself than anyone else.

“What’s that?” Kenji asked.

Tristan stood up quickly. “Nothing,” he said uneasily. “It will have to wait.” He made a move toward the door but something caught his eye. It was the envelope that contained Yugi’s dueling deck. Shaking, he picked it up, tearing it open and holding it upside down. He caught the deck box as it slid out and grasped the piece of paper that came out with it. With trembling hands he began to read.


Yugi,
I’m sorry. Please tell Tristan to come home.
S. Kaiba


“Kenji,” he said.

“Yes?”

Tristan handed him the deck box. “Take this to Solomon Mutou’s game shop. Make sure no one sees you.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Yugi Mutou’s duel deck.”

“Why was it here?”

Tristan met the guard’s eyes. “It’s probably better that you don’t know.”

Kenji nodded. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Tristan smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” He turned to Dr. Tochigi. “Call the specialist. Set everything up as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Mr. Taylor.” He gathered up his supplies and left the office.

Tristan took a few relaxing breaths and rubbed at his burning eyes. Though his body cried out for sleep he knew it was unlikely that he’d be getting any again this night. There were too many people counting on him. He’d already let one down. He’d be damned if he’d let it happen again.



Evening came and went and still Yugi slept. Occasionally Ryou or Yami would hear a tormented whimper but it was gone as soon as it had sounded. The couple had spent the afternoon in the living room watching movies and talking quietly. At nine-thirty Ryou stood up.

“I should really get going,” he said with a yawn.

Yami raised an eyebrow. “Going where?”

“Well, home.”

The pharaoh grasped his hand and pulled him back into his lap. “You really want to leave?” he asked, nuzzling Ryou’s neck.

The dark haired teen leaned back into the touch. “No,” he admitted. “But I can’t stay away forever.”

“No,” Yami agreed. “But Yugi needs you here.”

Ryou smiled softly. “Is Yugi the only one?”

Yami’s arms crept around Ryou’s waist, pulling him even closer. “I need you too.”

“Then I’ll stay,” he replied. “But I do have to go home sometime tomorrow to make sure that my father hasn’t called.”

“That’s fair,” Yami relented. “You can sleep in my room if you want. I’ll make a bed on the floor out here to sleep on.”

“I’d rather lay with you,” Ryou admitted boldly. “If, um, if you don’t mind.”

The pharaoh grinned. “Not at all,” he replied. “I’ll just go get some blankets and pillows.”

Ryou stood up, allowing Yami to do the same. “Can I help?” he asked.

“Sure,” the spirit replied. He led the way through the hall to the linen closet. “There should be a few blankets in here.”

Ryou opened the door and pulled out the only two. “We can lay on these,” he said. “They are pretty soft.”

Yami took the blankets. “I’ll take these to the other room. Why don’t you go get the pillows off of my bed?”

Ryou nodded and walked into the pharaoh’s room. He’d been in Yugi’s room a thousand times. The teen’s room was filled with posters, clothes, books, and duel monsters paraphernalia. Yami’s room was definitely not.

There was a plain double bed in the far corner with an empty nightstand next to it. A small dresser rested against the door, also devoid of any sort of decoration. The walls and floor were bare. He couldn’t imagine living under such drab conditions.

“Ryou?”

The teen turned to see Yami standing in the doorway.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” The pharaoh looked around for anything that may have upset his boyfriend.

“You…sleep here?”

Yami’s brow wrinkled. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t understand.”

Ryou made an all-encompassing gesture with his hands. “This room doesn’t even look lived in. You’ve been here over a year.”

“I don’t require much,” Yami said, mystified by Ryou’s reaction.

“But what about your dueling medals and awards? Where are they?”

“In Yugi’s room.”

“Yugi has them? But wasn’t it the both of you who won those tournaments?”

“Well, yes, it was.”

“Then why don’t you have some of them?”

“What would be the purpose? I didn’t duel for the recognition. I did it to help Yugi.”

Ryou stepped up to the pharaoh and pulled him close. “And you call me selfless.”

Yami kissed the top of Ryou’s head. “I do indeed.”


Several minutes later they were lying down together at the foot of the pullout sofa, Ryou resting his head in the crook of Yami’s shoulder. For his part, the teen had managed to gawk unnoticed when Yami shrugged out of his shirt and climbed beneath the blankets in only a soft pair of flannel pajama pants.

“I know it’s the floor but I haven’t been this comfortable in the better part of a week,” Ryou commented.

Yami chuckled. “I agree. Now if we can just get some sleep before Yugi wakes up we’ll be doing great.”

“I feel so bad for him,” Ryou sighed.

“I feel for the both of you.”

“What does that mean?”

Yami tightened his grip on Ryou’s shoulders. He had an unsettling feeling as to why Ryou insisted on wearing his sweat shirt to bed. “You’ve suffered a lot at the hands of the tomb robber.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh?”

Ryou put his finger to Yami’s lips. “Stop talking and close your eyes,” he whispered. “You need your sleep.”

Yami shook his head. “You can’t run forever, Ryou. I hope you know that I’m here for you when you decide to face it.”

“Shh.”


Ryou woke up just before the sun rose the next morning. He rolled onto his side, his gaze falling on the sleeping spirit next to him. A smile graced his lips as his eyes roamed the pharaoh’s bare, muscular chest. One pale hand reached out and ghosted over the taut flesh, delighting in the feeling of warmth that radiated outward to meet him.

He still could not believe the events of the past week. Though he did have to admit that Rose’s words rang true. He’d made the decision to enter into a relationship with Yami and now, as his gaze lingered over the spirit’s sleeping form, he felt that he’d made the right choice.

Not wanting to disturb the man, he forced his hand back and sat up, rubbing carefully at his eyes. After a satisfying yawn he rose to his feet and wandered down the hallway into the bathroom, his backpack in tow. Upon glancing at his reflection in the mirror he jumped about three feet before laughing to himself. It was going to take quite some time to get used to his new look.

He brushed his teeth and combed his hair before changing into a pair of loose fitting jeans and a grey sweater. He folded his discarded clothes and put them in the bag along with his toiletries.

Instead of returning to the living room he went into the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast for everyone. He gathered all of the ingredients for a light meal and set about boiling water and gathering dishes.



Yugi awoke to the sweet aroma of cinnamon wafting through the living room. His stomach rumbled and he unearthed himself from the gargantuan pile of pillows and blankets, carefully stepping onto the floor. He padded on Kuriboh clad feet into the bathroom where he quickly used the facilities and washed his hands before teetering down the hall and into the kitchen, using the walls for support.

He smiled to see the raven-haired Ryou bent over the stove, an oven mitt on one hand, pulling a fresh rack of cinnamon rolls from the oven. “Morning,” he said.

Ryou looked up. “Well, good morning to you, too. Come on, sit down. How are you feeling?” He sat the pan on top of the stove and took off the mitt before rushing to the small duelist’s side and assisting him into one of the kitchen chairs.

“I feel okay,” Yugi replied. “Hungry.”

“Well you’re in luck. I made cinnamon rolls from scratch and fresh squeezed orange juice.”

“It smells good,” Yugi complimented. “That’s what woke me up.”

Ryou winced. “I woke you up?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m starving.”

“You, um, sound a lot better this morning.”

Yugi nodded. “It feels good to be home.” He accepted the glass of juice that Ryou offered him. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday,” he said suddenly.

Ryou raised his eyebrows in question. “What do you mean?”

“You know, when I, um, screamed at you.”

“No, Yugi, don’t be. I understand. Why do you think I did this?” He gestured to his hair.

Yugi smiled. “It looks really good if it’s any consolation.”

“Thank you,” Ryou replied politely. “I about jumped out of my skin when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror this morning though.”

The smaller teen laughed. “I’d love to have seen that.”

“Me too,” came a tired voice in the doorway.

“Morning Yami,” Yugi said. “Ryou made cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”

Yami stumbled to Yugi and squeezed his shoulder affectionately before turning to Ryou and kissing his lips gently. Before the teen could respond, he shuffled to the coffee pot, swaying slightly. “Coffee,” he mumbled.

Ryou snickered. “Is he always like this in the morning?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” Yugi replied. “Don’t worry. In twenty minutes he’ll be on his second cup and sitting in Grandpa’s spot pretending to read the paper.”

“Pretending?” Ryou laughed.

“He likes the comics,” Yugi whispered conspiratorially. “It’s hard for him to understand written words so he looks at the pictures.”

“I heard that, Aibou,” Yami grumbled. “Ugh, I’ve got the worst pain in my back. Ryou tonight we’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Yami,” Yugi chastised.

The pharaoh turned and caught sight of Ryou’s blush. “No, I didn’t mean that,” he corrected quickly. “I meant that the floor is hard and we’d probably sleep better if we were, you know, not on it.” He frowned. “Coffee,” he said again, turning back to the counter.

Yugi snickered. “Smooth, Yams,” he said.

Ryou moved to stand beside the spirit. “Why don’t you sit down,” he suggested. “I’ll bring you your coffee. Yugi, are you ready to eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” He nudged Yami in the direction of the table.

Yami stopped midway. “I’m going to get the paper. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was out of earshot Ryou leaned heavily against the counter. “What a faux pas,” he laughed.

“You’re not kidding,” Yugi agreed. “That’s the closest I’ve ever seen him to being flustered.”

Ryou brought three plates to the table and sat next to Yugi. “I hope you like them,” he said.

“They smell wonderful.”

They ate in companionable silence for about five minutes. Ryou couldn’t be happier with Yugi’s demeanor. It seemed that the familiar surroundings were just what the doctor ordered.

Yugi ate about half of his breakfast, his stomach a bit upset still from not having eaten in several days while he was in the hospital. “I can’t finish it,” he said regretfully.

“That’s fine,” Ryou replied. “Don’t force it.” He took both of their plates and carried them to the sink. “You should probably take your medicine,” he surmised.

“Yeah,” Yugi replied. “I’ll meet you in the living room?” Ryou nodded. He stood up and carefully shuffled out of the room.

Ryou sighed contentedly. It was a pleasant feeling, having someone to take care of again. Especially someone who appreciated it. He looked down at Yami’s full plate and frowned. He walked into the hallway and down the stairs into the game shop. “Yami?” he called.

“I’m here.”

Was that anger in his voice? Ryou followed the sound out onto the front porch where Yami leaned against the outside wall of the store, barely contained rage apparent in his features. “What’s wrong?” he asked uncertainly.

Yami held out his hand. In it was Yugi’s duel deck.

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Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. The plot is about to get really thick in the next few chapters...hope it ain't too dark!