Every Truth A Lie

Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. Them.

Warnings: Hysterical laughter, bad puns, possible death(s).



/You don’t really think Kaiba’s dead, do you?/ Yuugi asked.



/I neither know, nor care about his well-being,/ the Pharaoh answered. /His is a path too twisted for logic, and he is trapped within his own mind. Forgive me, aibou, but we have more pressing concerns than an unfortunate death./



/So you do think he’s dead!/ Yuugi wailed.



The Pharaoh winced. He hadn’t meant to sound so callous – not if it upset Yuugi. In vain he tried to calm his lighter self, but the hysteric teen refused comfort. His innocent, violet eyes were wide.



/How am I going to tell Mokuba?/ he demanded.



The Pharaoh shook his head. /I’m sorry aibou – I think he already knows./



Yuugi sank slowly to his knees. The smothered sobbing that had reverberated down their link faded to nothing. /He knows?/ he whispered, the shadowy echoes of his words making the Pharaoh’s heart ache.



/Think about it, aibou,/ the Pharaoh chided gently. /Mokuba has been looking, but not really looking.. He hasn’t even truly begun to search for his brother. Such token attempts as he has made – simply denial. He does not wish to believe Kaiba is gone any more than you do./ It seemed perfectly obvious.



Yuugi perked up. /That’s what you’re basing it off?/ the violet-eyed teen demanded.

The Pharaoh saw no reason to deny it. Yuugi broke into half-hysterical, half-relieved laughter, but refused to answer his dark as to why. Of course…his inability to stop the hysterics may have had something to do with that.



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“I still don’t get it,” Mokuba growled, throwing down another set of cards in disgust. Pair of Kings, trumped by triple Aces.



“What, me or him?” Bakura, buttering an English muffin, waved the knife in the general direction of the Pharaoh.



Mokuba growled again. “Both of you,” he spat. “Him for winning without trying and you for not being good at explaining.”



The white-haired male glared at him for a moment before shrugging and turning around to much loudly on his food. “I give up, Pharaoh. You can try to explain the specifics to the damn brat.”



Yuugi’s stranger glowered over Mokuba’s shoulder. “Someone finally invented a lock you couldn’t pick, Thief King?”



Bakura returned the look with a dirty one of his own and an unintelligible response – though he managed to spray both of them with muffin crumbs.



“Try again, without the food,” Mokuba suggested, brushing wet specks off his face with a grimace.



“I said, ‘A boy’s dense skull isn’t a lock.’ I work with finesse, Pharaoh – you’re the only one relying on brute force here.”



Maybe Mokuba could have managed to look offended, but if he did that, mighten the other two not explain things? I still don’t get what the mean by all this sacrifice and fate and items and war crap, he reflected bitterly. And for all their rattling on about it, it doesn’t seem to be connected to Seto in any way.



Yuugi’s stranger started to explain things…again. Mokuba tried to be attentive, but the same type of ‘destiny, fate and higher power’ soon had his mind floating in limbo – hearing but not listening at all, really.



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/I don’t think you’re going about this the right way./



/How would you do it, aibou?/ The Pharaoh was more uptight than usual, Yuugi noticed. He seemed to be taking Mokuba’s inability to grasp concept as a personal affront.



/Well,/ the violet-eyed duelist commented thoughtfully, /you may want to cut back on the big concepts. He’s not Kaiba, but he is a Kaiba; destiny, fate and magic go right over their heads./ Yuugi cocked his own head to the side for a moment, watching from beside the Pharaoh-in-his-body. /You may want to point out how the Items relate to Kaiba,/ the teen added, somewhat hesitantly. /It may help keep his attention./



/If you think it will help./



Yuugi nodded. /I’m sure of it./



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It was quiet. The silence broke Mokuba out of his daze. He looked up at Yuugi’s stranger, expecting to see the dangerous flash of scarlet that meant he was angry…but instead, he merely looked pensive.



“I haven’t explained this well, I think,” he said.



A snort from Bakura extracted a glare.



Mokuba made as if to say something, but Yuugi’s stranger kept speaking right overtop him. “I keep forgetting you aren’t like aibou and his friends.” Sharp eyes, with that faint red tinge. “I keep forgetting exactly who you are.”



Who I am? But I haven’t changed!



“Kaiba would never understand things the way I’ve explained them, and it’s foolish to expect you to be any more mature than your brother.” The cunning, underhanded insult left Mokuba glaring, but the other kept speaking, giving him no time to protest the besmirching of his – and his brother’s – name.



“The Items are beginning their own war once again. Kaiba felt it – he went after the Millennium Rod.”



“But Malik has the Rod,” Mokuba protested.



A grim expression stole across the face of Yuugi’s stranger. “That is, in part,” he said quietly, “why your brother is missing.”



If he went after Malik, he must have gotten the Rod. Nii-sama can out-duel anyone! Well, except for Yuugi, but that was beside the point.



“Kaiba may not – ” There was a disjointed, expressionless look that stole across his face at odd intervals. One did then, mid-sentence, leaving Mokuba hanging.



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/Don’t you dare tell Mokuba his brother might not be alive!/



The Pharaoh started in surprise. He hadn’t expected Yuugi to drag him out of the conversation so swiftly. /Aibou – the chance he’s still alive - /



/Still exists,/ Yuugi interrupted firmly. More gently, he added, /Kaiba is all Mokuba really has, mou hitori no boku. Would you take that away from him?/



The Pharaoh sighed. /You would offer him false hope, aibou?/



/Hope is never false./



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Mokuba cleared his throat again. Finally Yuugi stirred from that trance-like state. He half-expected Bakura to make some snide comment or other about the sudden absence of dialogue, but the white-haired mail seemed to have gone back to conversing with himself.



When the tri-colored duelist moved at last, Mokuba sat up a little straighter and bombarded him with questions immediately. “What were you saying about Nii-sama? He may not what?”



Red-flecked eyes blinked, and looked past him. “Bakura,” Yuugi’s stranger snapped irritably, “we’re going now.”



“Wait! But what about Seto?” Mokuba exclaimed.



“Mokuba, it’s really for the best,” Yuugi said, wide violet eyes twinkling. “We’ll come back for you. Don’t worry.”



“I’m not – ”



The door closed and it was quiet. The very air seemed to have lost the ability to transmit sound.



What’s going on?



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It was late when they came back. How late, Mokuba couldn’t tell. The lazily flickering, fluorescent lights didn’t offer much of a hint as to what time it was. And there were no windows. He felt caged, and had taken to pacing. One time, one hundred times – what difference did it make?



When the door cracked open, four people streamed through. Mokuba recognized them all. He stopped pacing, taking the opportunity to level a glare at the others. The faintest touches of a blush stained Ryou’s cheeks. Anzu seemed oblivious; her eyes were focused on Yuugi. Out of all of them, Honda was the only one to really acknowledge his presence – the only one to come over and break the stalemate. For that, Mokuba warmed a little.



Maybe this is what Nii-sama could have been like, if it weren’t for Gozaboru, he mused. Honda was similar in so many respects to Seto… Perhaps a little too similar, at least for Mokuba’s peace of mind.



“Where were you?” he asked Yuugi. His voice…it was so cold and distant. The comparison had to be made – he sounded like his brother.



It was Anzu who answered, but her flowery prose made no impact on him. His slate eyes remained locked on Yuugi. “Why did you leave me?”



The violet-eyed teen wouldn’t look at him. An uncomfortable silence descended, before Yuugi broke it. His voice was higher than usual and a bit breathy when he spoke. “Anzu and Honda are staying overnight.”



Mokuba tried pressing a few more ways, but Yuugi – damn him – wouldn’t answer either question, where or why. Eventually he gave up getting an answer and found a corner to sulk in while the others vanished up the stairs.



Time passed slowly again. Whether it was seconds or hours later when Honda reappeared, he wasn’t sure. The door clicking shut softly behind the brunet drew Mokuba out of his mental wanderings to focus sharply on the present.



“You’ve been down here a while,” Honda observed, standing a ways away.



From his vantage point on the floor, Mokuba glared up. He had no idea how long he had been down here…wherever here was, but he didn’t appreciate the subtle reminder – or was it an insinuation? – that he was a prisoner of sorts. “Why are you here?”



Honda took a few steps forward and squatted next to Mokuba. His presence wasn’t precisely comforting, but it was a great deal warmer than the company of cement walls.



“I didn’t feel like watching Anzu’s attempts at flirtation,” the brunet answered.



Mokuba blinked. “She’s flirting with Yuugi?” he asked, slightly astonished.



Honda shook his head. “Nah, she’s going after the Pharaoh and Ryou. But since the Pharaoh won’t come out while she’s around, she’s practically molesting poor Ryou.” The brunet shuddered slightly. “It’s not anywhere near grade A entertainment. Besides, I thought you might be a bit lonely. Just because Kaiba doesn’t know kindness from a murder attempt doesn’t mean the same is true with you.”



Mokuba just stared.



The biker seemed not to notice, leaning back to settle himself on the cold floor. “It’s like a dungeon in here.”



Mokuba frowned. “Why won’t he come out when Mazaki’s around?”



“Huh?” Honda looked momentarily confused. “Oh, the Pharaoh? Well, he and Yuugi haven’t said anything definitive yet, but I’ve got an inkling the two of them have hit it off pretty well.”



Silence followed as Mokuba took a moment to process that bit of information. When dawning comprehension crossed his face, Honda laughed slightly. “You’re getting it then. For a moment I was afraid I’d have to spell it out.”



“But – ” Mokuba’s head hurt at the implications. “How?”



Another laugh, this one much drier. “I have no idea. All I know with regards to those two is you jump when the Pharaoh tells you, and if you have to piss one of them off, you better hope it’s Yuugi.”



“That’s all you know?” Mokuba was skeptical.



Honda shrugged, hands out wide. “I’ve followed Yuugi for a long time, but I’ve never pretended to understand anything he or the Pharaoh do.”



“I guess you couldn’t tell me why Yuugi’s keeping me here then.”



The brunet scratched his head, looking thoughtful. “Actually, I sort of thought it was the same reason he was keeping Ryou here – just to keep an eye on the potentially dangerous parties.”



Mokuba sat up very straight. “‘Potentially dangerous’?” he echoed, disbelieving. “I’m not dangerous!”



A shrug greeted his proclamation. “Maybe you aren’t by yourself, but since Kaiba got the Rod from Malik, you’ve both become more problematic.”



“What?” My brother got the Rod? How doe she know? How does that make a problem? I thought Yuugi trusted Nii-sama. Bitter confusion seeped into the black-haired teen, but his questions had to remain, for the moment at least, unanswered.



“Honda – we need you up here.” Yuugi’s voice resonated down into the hollow concrete block.



With an exaggerated sigh and a wink, the biker rolled to his feet and left.



The more I try to learn, the muddier the water becomes.





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Author’s Notes: Since I’m actually restarting this story, it feels a bit choppy moving on from chapter four… I hope it doesn’t read like that, though.

On a note about the title, I thought barrie18 might get a kick out of it, seeing as how there are always questions from that end, and I never answer them. :)

At least...not directly.