Zero lifepoints. The smoke needs to clear from the duel field, but I know the outcome already. I close my eyes, only for a second- I need to prepare myself mentally. I won't let my emotions show on the outside. Showing emotions is a sign of weakness, and I don't need my enemy interpreting my emotions for his next step. Always be prepared for the enemy's next step. My stepfather hammered that lesson into me; literally.
"It was a good game, Kaiba."
It's him. Not Yugi- him. It's out of sheer politeness that he compliments me; was it for Yugi, he would've launched into an analysis of the game with enthusiastic commenting, but it's him- him-- and therefor, his words are laced with arrogance that comes so natural to him. Yugi would've said: "It was a good game, Kaiba. I'm sorry that you lost." He says: "It was a good game, Kaiba. It's no wonder that you lost."
The Black Paladin disappears from the field, taking the last clouds of smoke with him. My three Blue Eyes White Dragons have been defeated by him, at the last moment, all the odds against him. I take out my deck from the duel disk. The ante rule clearly states that the victor may claim the most rare card from the loser's deck. Loser. I'm not a loser! I flip through the cards, finding Obelisk no Kiyoshinhen -Obelisk the Tormentor, how fitting- in an instant. The pain in my heart I'm feeling is not from losing this card, losing a game, losing to him, but from losing an opportunity.
"Brother..."
Mokuba's voice sounds strained, weak. The duel arena is lowered again and I take a few steps forward, card in my hand. He looks curious, amused even- waiting patiently for me to hand the God Card over. He still believes in his destiny. To defeat that maniacal Egyptian and to regain his lost memories. I wouldn't care for lost memories. I don't care for the past, period. Why should I? The past is something that drags you behind and keeps you from progressing. For the millennia old Pharaoh he claims to be, he's certainly adapted to this world well. I'm sure leather skin existed back in his days, but why he chose to dress himself in it in these days eludes me.
"Brother, are you all right?"
Mokuba still sounds from far away. Either I shut him out or the duel arena is larger than I imagined. I'm still not closing in to him. I feel ridiculous for keeping the God Card in my hand, outstretched, as if I'm going to offer it to him. And beg him to take it.
"Never," I growl, voice low. I refuse to look behind me and to search for Mokuba- I don't want to see the look on his face now. I'm holding on to my last threads of willpower to keep myself calm and composed, while all I want to do is scream. I want to wipe away his stupid, self-confident, annoying regal smirk on his face, grab his collar and rip it, yank that jacket down on his arms so he can't move and slide under that tight shirt and make him feel feel feel what I'm feeling. Pain, loser, pain, hate, loss, sadness, anger.
To my horror, I notice that my hand is trembling. Why doesn't he accept the card and we can get this all over with? He doesn't make a move, but waits patiently for me to hand the card over. Crimson red eyes focusing on me, a gaze drilling through my defences, stripping me naked to the core. Opposites attract? I don't think so. This other Yugi and me are frighteningly alike. His friends -Yugi's friends- see him for a helpless entity, depending on them to find his lost memories, his lost name. They cheer him on, support him, and think they are helping him. They fail to see what's deep inside of him; the roots and the convictions of a ruler, a winner, a dominator. Why can't they see what he really is, why do they keep this image of a friendly, nice and gentle being? He goes for the kill in every victory, just like me.
I grit my teeth. The fucking duel arena is huge! I feel like I'm wading through a swamp to reach him. I hear Mokuba calling me but I ignore him again. My younger brother is the only one who knows me, and the only one I allow into my soul. He's the one who breaks through my walls, just for being my little brother. I sometimes curse him for that- my walls are my own, and I don't want to resurrect them again and again. I want them firmly in place, defining me the way I am- and nothing of these feelings and emotions crap I can do very well without. Call me single-track minded for all I care. Because I don't care. Only for Mokuba. I don't care for him. I want my title back. I want him...to give me my title back. When he's tied to a bed and hasn't got a voice left from screaming. Pain or pleasure. You will feel what I feel.
He reaches for the card, a single, graceful movement, like a tiger that extends its paw to a prey. His fingertips touch the card. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. The "I-knew-I-would-win-this" smile.
One of his many buckles catches the sunlight and glitters, right into my eye.
"Congratulations." I manage to mutter. He knows I don't mean it and he looks up at me and blinks once at me, with those heavy black eyelashes.
"Thank you."
We're merely inches apart. The closest we've been since a long time, but not as close when you sat next to me in my helicopter, before he was forced into a duel. At that moment, he wasn't the goal...the target... the obsession in my life. If I was someone talking about having regrets, than I would've regretted that I didn't tell him about the new game we were playing.
Golden bangs frames his face, slightly rippled by the wind at this height on the tower. To my satisfaction, I notice he's sweated a little; at least it wasn't too easy for him. It still fucking hurts. He won't get away with this. No easy victory for you. I want to grab the leather collar, throw him on the ground and wrestle the God Card out of his fingers. Let him fight for it, while I rip his clothes and strip him of everything- his pride, his arrogance, and his confidence. I want him naked in more ways than one, and I want him to feel how losing feels- also in more ways than one.
No one can hear us. We haven't left the duel arena yet. His band of friends is standing on the right, looking expectantly, waiting for him to come down. He has his fingers on the God Card in hand, taking it millimetre by millimetre out of my grasp. You have to fight for it.
"You're oblivious. You're so fucking oblivious!" I don't swear in public. I'm really at the end of my rope to let that slip. Maybe all I want to do is to put my head down, sleep for a while and have dinner with Mokuba and sleep some more.
"You may hold the title of King of Games," I tell him, "but there's one game you horribly lose at." Smugness creeps back in my voice, but he doesn't look confused like I've hoped. I once, just once, want to see a look of helplessness on his face. Total, utter helplessness.
Wait- his lips part, he cocks his head a little...is this the moment? I bend over a bit because of our height difference, internally cursing that it might look like I'm bowing to him. He hasn't moved at all. Damn! Before he touches -or merely brushes- my lips, he turns his head to the side and whispers in my ear.
"There is no such thing as an easy victory, Kaiba."
The next second, he swipes the God Card out of my hand and turns around, jacket flaring dramatically, leaving me with a good view on his leather clad backside. With a few steps he's at the stairs and descends. He leaves me here. He's just fucking leaving me here!
His friends surround him, talking frantically, congratulating him with his victory. The referee looks a bit embarrassed; technically he hasn't announced Mutou Yugi the winner yet.
Mutou Yugi isn't the winner here. The other Yugi is. He wins today. Only today. No such thing as an easy victory, huh? I'll prove to him that I'm a difficult loser.
Footsteps behind me announce Mokuba's arrival and he looks up to me, almost frightened to find more bitterness and hatred. He won't find it. I won't let my heart clouded by those emotions any longer. I'm now only a spectator for the next final, and I will take that opportunity to analyse my enemy and prepare myself for the next step.
There will be another battle. There will be another victory.