Every Truth A Lie

The hand on his shoulder woke him. All the lights were gone. “Wha-?” he mumbled to no one in particular.



“Try to keep it quiet.” The voice, that voice…



“Honda?”



“Yeah, it’s me.” The hand didn’t leave his shoulder, but he had a feeling Honda’s focus was elsewhere. IT was confirmed a moment later when the biker asked in husted tones, “Can you open it?”



Bakura’s voice growled in response. “Of course I can. It’s only a single tumbler – even Ryou could open it.”



The hand on his shoulder tightened in annoyance. “Mokuba – Mokuba make sure to stay quiet. We’re getting you out of here.”



He blinked in surprise. Getting me out? That…that means -



“Hurry.” The urgency in Bakura’s voice was unnerving, bringing home just how desperate the situation had to be. For Ryou’s maniacal stranger to have a sense of focus about him must mean they were in desperate straits indeed.



Mokuba paused, his hand resting on Honda’s forearm. “Won’t you get in trouble?” he asked, feeling the unexpected concern well up inside.



“Never mind that,” Bakura hissed. “If we’re leaving, we’re doing it now.” The door of the basement creaked slightly on its hinges. Odd light flooded the darkness; it took Mokuba a moment to realize it was starlight.



Honda’s hand tugged lightly on his arm. “Let’s go.”



For some unfathomable reason, he almost wanted to protest, or hang back. Going out the door he would be free to continue his search, but from however long he’d been in there, his mind felt warped. Stagnant, as if someone had been trying to freeze his thought processes in their paths.



Once they were out in the open though, outside the confines of cement walls, he felt like he was alive again. And then it hit him, with such force he literally staggered into Honda’s arms.



You know where to find me. Come to me, Mokuba. Come. Now. Blue eyes blazed, obscuring everything else. Blue eyes. Blue. With a tinge of gold.



“Snap out of it!” Honda was shaking him, and the blue eyes faded out of his vision, but in that instant, they had imparted something he assumed he’d forgotten.



Mokuba brushed Honda’s hands away from him. “I know where my brother is.”



The biker nodded grimly. “Then let’s go. Bakura, are you coming or staying?”



The white-haired male hesitated for a brief moment. “Much as I’d love to vanish without warning, you do need someone competent to cover his escape.” A wicked smile floated over the male’s face. “Not to mention I want to see the Pharaoh’s face when he finds out you’ve slipped the coop.”



Honda nodded. “Come on, then, Mokuba. You said you know where Kaiba is. Let’s go. Take care, Bakura.”



Mad laughter seemed to echo from all corners as Mokuba and Honda vanished down one of the streets.



XXXXX



The destination was calling him, and he couldn’t think why he hadn’t thought of it before. It seemed so obvious now… Streets, streets and more streets, all humming with neon signs and fading street lamps. Alleyways sunk n darkness. Side avenuses laced in faulty wires. No…no…no…



Then yes.



The building was nondescript, cut from a carbon mold. It could be a million other places, be a million different things, but all Mokuba cared about was that he knew his brother would be in there on the top floor, waiting for him. He tugged Honda, the back of his subconscious mind noticing that sometime in the mayhem, their hands had connected and their fingers interlaced. “He’s here.”



Honda didn’t look so sure. “Are you positive? It really doesn’t seem like Kaiba to be in a dump like this.”



So there was trash and odd smells and creaking windows and walls. That didn’t make it a dump. Well, not really…



The sensation of knowing increased and Mokuba tugged on Honda’s hand again. “Come on - Seto’s in there.” Top floor, sitting in a corner, staring at nothing, waiting… Just waiting for him to come. He knew it. He could feel it.



Reluctantly, Honda acquiesced to his demands, and the two of them made their way into the building. Mokuba followed his suddenly-developed sixth sense. Honda followed him.



Is this what Yuugi feels like, having all his friends at his beck and call? he wondered absently. The pulling sensation was getting stronger. Growing, growing – until the tension was so vivid Mokuba wondered how Honda could be so oblivious to it. “Here – he’s here.”



“Mokuba, there’s nothing there.”



He blinked. Honda was right. Nothing. Nothing. A dead end in a hallway that seemed to stretch forever –



“That’s where you’re wrong.”



An icy sensation settled into Mokuba, sending chills down his spine. Dreams had been powerful, strong, but not enough. Never enough. They faded away too quickly, taking the last bit of voice, of image with them. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The sheer presence echoed through him. So possessive, so aggressive, so very individual.



“Kaiba!” Honda’s exclamation was one partly of awe and partly surprise.



Mokuba hid a smile. His brother just had that effect on people, was all. “I’ve been looking for you, Nii-sama,” he said quietly. He hadn’t bothered to turn around from the wall to face his brother. Half his mind was convinced this was only another dream and that turning to see Seto’s face would destroy it entirely. So he waited, staring at the cracked plaster wall as if it were a work of art too breathtaking to ignore.



“You’ve found me.”



That was when he couldn’t contain himself any longer and finally turned to behold his brother. Seto burned with a fierce light. He was attired in an unusual outfit that bore abstract designs of gold throughout, laid down over thin black fabric. But what really caught Mokuba’s attention was the thin scepter of glittering metal resting so innocently in his brother’s right hand. It seemed to pulse in time with some unknown rhythm – perhaps its bearer’s heartbeat.



And his eyes.



Seto’s eyes burned with a ferocity that was slightly frightening. Something behind those eyes wasn’t quite sane to say the least.



For a long moment, Mokuba simply stared, but then he threw himself at Seto, not caring how childish such an act might appear. He wanted the warm certainty of his brother’s embrace.



Kaiba rotated slightly, backing away. Mokuba paused, confused. His brother’s eyes still gleamed with that mad light. Amongst the blue, little flashed of gold appeared, shimmering merrily as a dramatic foil to Kaiba’s punishing gaze.



Slowly, the brunet moved back to where he had stood before, undoing the recoil as if moving through gelatin. Each motion was deliberate and painstakingly slow. Even as he dipped to his knees, it was like watching someone move a nanometer at a time. Tentatively, Mokuba let himself into those open arms. Just as slowly, the arms closed.



“Nii-sama?” he questioned softly, speaking directly into Seto’s ear. Not that he didn’t trust Honda, but some things were personal after all.



His brother didn’t reply, but the hug became a little less mechanical, a little more like touching a human being instead of a robot. Abruptly Seto released him and stood. The insanity was back in his eyes.



Again Mokuba focused in on the pulsing Rod his brother clutched so tightly. What was it about the thing that drew stares? What was it that radiated such malignant joy?



Seto’s eyes were half blue and half gold when he finally spoke again. But it wasn’t his voice at all. The tone was all wrong. Honda seemed to realize it too and moved closer, wrapping an arm protectively around Mkuba’s shoulders. “He’s channeling something,” the biker muttered.



Mad eyes focused in on the two of them. Kaiba’s mouth opened. “You must be Mokuba,” his brother’s voice rasped. Honda’s grip around his shoulder’s intensified. Anger flickered in emotionally deadened eyes. “Let go of him,” the voice that wasn’t his brother’s hissed.



“S-seto?” That command had enough of his brother in it that he had to wonder, however briefly if this was just a terrible joke and Seto really was this…thing.



His wonder evaporated a moment later when those eyes flickered back to him, and that voice – that godforsaken voice - whispered his name. “It’s been ages - ages. This is the beginning of your formidable band?”



Honda pulled him closer, away from the snarling, twisted words. There seemed to be internal dialogue of some sort going on, only half of which the two of them could hear. But what he could hear, Mokuba didn’t like in the slightest.



“He doesn’t look like much.” The voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “The dark one looks better for your purposes.” Twisted smirk. “No? But it would be so easy, and he’s already a friend of the Pharaoh – ” Pause. Bitterly, “Go ahead, then.”



Mokuba watched in startled horror as his brother’s eyes became fully blue again, and then Seto collapsed. The Rod still lay clutched in his grasp, but it no longer throbbed in an unnatural rhythm. Simple gold, that’s all it was.



“M-mokuba?”



“Seto!” He couldn’t contain himself. After wrenching his body out of Honda’s vice-like grip, Mokuba threw himself on the floor beside his brother. Seto’s head raised. The mad light had vanished as if it never were, and something like a hint of a tired smile touched the brunet’s lips.



“Nii-sama, are you all right?” Mokuba couldn’t keep from fussing over his brother, helping him sit up, though the look on Kaiba’s face clearly said he’d rather fend for himself.



Silently, Honda had moved to Mokuba’s side, staring down at the pair of them. Mokuba only became aware of it when he noticed his brother’s glare, arcing over his shoulder.



“Need any help?” The biker’s voice was flat. Mokuba wasn’t sure if he was offering to help Seto or…



“What are you doing here?” Seto’s reply was equally disinterested, though warning flashed in his eyes.



“Nii-sama, he was helping me look for you!” The tension didn’t dissipate; if anything, it seemed to increase as the two alphas stared each other down. Caught in the middle, far from comfortable, was Mokuba.



Kaiba’s glare did not ease at the reassurance, but oddly, Mokuba noticed, his brother made no attempt to stand and employ the height difference that would offer complete control of the situation.



“Nii-sama?”



Blue eyes flickered to him. Kaiba offered a terse smile, really only a twitching movement of his lips.



“Nii-sama,” Mokuba whispered, half-brokenly. Say something, please. He shut his eyes and clung to the shell of his brother. Seto seemed almost hollow, as if someone had gutted his spirit and hung it out to dry.



If only this was the dream, and the rest my reality. If only.