Three Days Grace

Maybe the hall was a bit too quiet of a place to have this particular discussion. Though, it was less of a discussion and more of a discourse, or revelation. AN unpleasant revelation.



He. He.



Yami was fairly certain he knew exactly which “he” Jounouchi was referring to.



Kaiba.



Damn him. Kill him. Destroy him.



Save him.



He hadn’t meant to remember the insane light in Kaiba’s eyes in front of the stone tablet. The humming in his blood, chanting a song just below his ability to hear.



Jounouchi looked horrified and bewildered. Betrayed.



But betrayal is nothing new.



Slowly, deliberately, Yami recalled the events of the tournament two years past. Watching denial, hurt and rage brush across Jounouchi’s face kept him speaking. If he could tell the story, he could absolve himself of guilt at having been unable to help.



But a little part of him watching brown eyes fill and spill tears felt a twinge of satisfaction.



This is how I feel, it whispered. This is how the world should feel. Because I hurt, so will you.



The story didn’t take long to tell. It only felt like forever. He expected that to be it, but when his monologue ended, the blond began a choked recitation of the version of events Kaiba had given him. And the life Jounouchi had been living for the past years.



When it was over, he couldn’t decide if he was horrified or enraged or disgusted or…beginning to accept.



Yami stood. He had meant to ask Jounouchi for help, but now that the broken shell of a duelist that had once been his aibou’s best friend needed him, he couldn’t refuse.



“Stay with us, Jounouchi. We have one more day. Stay with us.” His thoughts turned to the odds the blond had taken on at ever turn in duels. “We could use your luck.”



Behind him, he thought he heard Jounouchi mutter something dispirited. With a humorless smile, he reentered the apartment, Yuugi’s old friend trailing after him like a lost dog.



xxxxx



The ringing of the phone woke him. With a growled oath, he lurched towards it, yanking the screaming thing off the hook to answer.



“Good morning, Moutu-san. This is just a reminder that by eight o’clock tonight, all you belongings must be gone. Anything remaining on the premises will be confiscated and destroyed. Have a nice day!”



Disgusted, Yami shook his head and hung up the phone, wondering how a person could sound so damned cheerful in the process of evicting someone else.



“Yami? Who was that?” Yuugi was sitting up, brushing sleep from wide violet eyes.



He drudged up a smile. “Just the landlord, aibou.”



Yuugi frowned. “It’s Friday already? I thought – ” a yawn, “ – we had another day.”



“Go back to sleep, aibou,” Yuugi suggested. “I’m going to go out for a bit. Jounouchi will be here with you,” he added when Yuugi’s eyes grew slightly wider in alarm. It took a moment, but Yuugi relaxed and nodded. His violet gaze wandered over to Jounouchi stretched out on the other side of the room.



Yami watched his aibou crawl over and curl up like a cat right next to the blond. He nodded, and left.



xxxxx



He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t know where he was going. Along with giving the true story of Shizuka to Jounouchi, he’d also managed to extract enough about the blond’s time at the Kaiba mansion to be incensed.



The best solution after the attack on Yuugi had seemed to be to disappear. It had worked, too, Yami reflected bitterly. They had vanished altogether too well. But with Jounouchi showing up, bearing scars courtesy of Kaiba, Yami had to wonder if Yuugi’s sudden absence had just prompted the CEO to hunt out easier targets.



Maybe Anzu hadn’t actually made it wherever she was going. Maybe Honda hadn’t left out of choice. Maybe…



He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d decided, but it seemed now that the only option available was to confront Kaiba. Yami wavered passing the museum, feeling the stirrings of the siren’s song again, through so softly it only warmed his blood.



He knew where he was going – had known ever since he’d truly looked at Jounouchi and seen the haunted look in the blond’s eyes.



The Kaiba mansion loomed, imposing and frozen on the outside. A huge, black iron fence surrounded the grounds except for one opening barely wide enough to let two walk abreast.



The meaning was clear enough: stay out.



Yami crossed that unspoken, unlabeled barrier without a second thought. His feet followed the carefully laid brick path between perfectly manicured lawn segments up to the porch.



To the front door.



Inside.



He didn’t bother knocking. As advanced as Kaiba’s security supposedly was, he’d expected to be accosted the moment he stepped through the door. Eerily, the entryway was silent.



A fine sheen of silvery dust hung over everything. The floor bore a broken path of footsteps, leading directly towards a set of stairs.



Yami followed them, but paused at the base of the stairs, glancing up. Where was everyone? He shook off the slight chill that went through him and proceeded to begin exploring the first level of the mansion.



Everything was decorated with that same silvery luster. After brushing his fingers though it, he decided it wasn’t dust. Not in the typical sense, anyway. It didn’t dull the shine of mirrors or tabletops – merely blended the whole of the landscape into an even tone, broken only with shadows and where his feet touched.



The altered landscape was serene, but at the same time, inspired of sense of intrusion on a long-dead presence. Yami felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he continued, moving slowly through the lower level.



He was the kitchen, shimmering. Here was the living room, glowing gently. There was the bathroom. He didn’t need to go in it to see it too was saturated.



Eventually his footsteps returned him to the stairs, where the faint glittering of silver still sparkled. Slowly, Yami began to climb. It wasn’t until he reached the second floor that he realized it was easier to breathe here. The dust, probably.



Because, the first thing that struck him about the second floor was color. So maybe wandering around in a monochrome landscape didn’t make colors slap him in the face, but still… There was something more – alive – about the second floor. Something that breathed.



A high pitched electronic noise startled him until he recognized it as the battle phase of a video game. Still with heart beating fast, he stepped towards the sound.



The trail led him to a door painted blue grey in shades designed to negate the shadows caused by the door’s carving and the lights.



Yami decided it was eerily similar in some way to the first floor, and knocked. He was still surprised that no one – no security, no staff, no Kaiba – had come whizzing towards him demanding to know what he was doing.



Maybe Kaiba relied on his reputation to keep away intruders, Yami mused. Certainly no one in his right mind would choose to infiltrate the Kaiba mansion. Not without significant help, at any rate.



The odd door swung inward and Yami found himself face-to-face with a black-haired child. Eyes the exact shade of the door narrowed.



“Is your brother home?” It felt odd to have just walked into the mansion, now. But, as Yami reminded himself, this was Kaiba who held neither by rules nor convention. To be noticed, one had to make bold moves.



A think mane of black hair shook with the boy’s head. Blue-grey eyes stared at Yami accusingly.



“Do you know when he’ll be back?”



A nod, but no words.



Yami waited, but the boy made no effort to offer a time. He took the silence as opportunity to study the other. Black hair fell to about mid-back, raked carelessly away from the face. Blue-grey eyes – the color of slate – shifted through emotion with fluid ease, but the expression on his face never altered.



He dropped the door without warning, backing into the room and motioning for Yami to follow. Yami watched in bemused silence as the black-haired child dug through the contents of a drawer to come up with a pen and notebook. The boy settled himself on the ground and looked up expectantly.



Yami gracefully sat down, wondering what this peculiar child was doing.



The pen raced across the paper of the notebook, and then it was offered.



Confused, Yami accepted, then began to read the smooth writing.



Nii-sama is coming home in about an hour. You can wait for him. He’s always home early on Fridays.



Yami looked up. “Can you speak?”



A firm nod.



“Then why,” he raised the notebook a bit, “this?”



The boy snatched the book back and scribbled again, passing it back with a small smile.



My words are for Nii-sama. If you could only say one hundred words, would you waste them on someone you hated? Or save them for someone you love?



Yami opened his mouth.



The notebook disappeared briefly, then returned before he said anything.



Besides, Nii-sama talks enough for both of us.



A mischievous smile accompanied the comment and Yami decided he liked this boy very much.



xxxxx



An hour passed rather quickly. They were in the midst of a video game when Mokuba sat up, rigid, eyes straying from the first time from the screen to the door.



Yami paused, wondering what it was.



Something made a sound downstairs and the boy sprang to his feet, skidding out the door. Yami followed at a more sedate pace, catching sight of Kaiba as the CEO neared the bottom of the stairs.



“Nii-sama! Nii-sama!”



It took Yami a moment to realize the voice belonged to Mokuba. Somewhere in the hour of conversation over paper, he’d unconsciously labeled the boy as mute, even though he’d been told differently.



“What is it, kiddo?” Kaiba’s voice sounded less raspy and more gentle. The insanity had gone out of it, replaced with tenderness.



Yami watched Kaiba drop to his knees to be enveloped in a hug.



“Welcome home, Nii-sama,” drifted up to Yami’s ears. He felt like a voyeur of sorts, watching where prying eyes might not be appreciated.



As if he could feel the intrusion, Kaiba’s eyes snapped up to Yami’s at that moment, glittering dangerously at the bottom of the stairs, amidst the dead landscape.



But he didn’t release his hold on Mokuba, Yami noticed. Then slate eyes gazed up at him too, laced with pained pride and determination.



Kaiba stood, drawing Mokuba’s small body up, cradled in his arms, glowering defiantly still.



Yami watched the pair ascend the steps, wondering why he had thought this was a good idea. Anger from Jounouchi’s mistreatment and the attack on Yuugi flickered dimly, but somehow could ignite properly under that ice glare.



Air vanished from his lungs and his chest constricted. Something maddeningly familiar and yet alien drifted so close, but just out of reach. The desire for closeness was overwhelming.



He stepped back.



Kaiba set Mokuba down and stepped forward, placing himself between the boy and Yami.



Yami recalled one of the more poetic of Mokuba’s notes, seeing Kaiba step forward as if to protect Mokuba. A gladiator of sorts.



Mokuba’s face had been deadly serious when he wrote it, so perhaps that was why Yami remembered it so well.



Nii-sama and I belong together. I’m his angel, he’s my demon – but together, we are human.



____________________________________

Author's Notes:

So Yami’s not supposed to be in the Kaiba mansion, he's a little jumpy, and silver dust is playing tricksies with his head. Mokuba isn't exactly as active in my 'verse as he is in the actual anime, so while Yami may recognize him, Mokuba remains an uncertain quantity

Other than that...not a lot to say about this. I've been gone for a while... Summer is not a good time for me to write, I have decided. I'm just prone to vanishing fits. 0.o

Reviews welcomed with open arms.