“This world was once known as Earth. We still call it Earth, those who have memories of how it used to be. Those who remember freedom. Those who remember peace. We cry in silence; angry, indignantly, desperately. We live through the day to survive… for what? For life itself? At night, we gather together and share stories of how one day, one happy day, everything will be all right and wonderful again, and how much we hope this day will come soon.
A silly hope, perhaps, but it is all the hope we have. We look up at the sky and wonder what color it will be at dawn. Blue, the color of total devastation. Red, the color of blood. Gold, the color of fiery destruction and death. Too often, it is a red dawn.
Welcome to the world of Kaiba Gozaburo.
After seizing ultimate power, he appointed seven Generals to ensure this world will remain under his control. These Generals are all gifted with incredible mystical powers; in the course of time, the lines between truth, myths and facts about these powers have been blurred. Fear of these Generals has settled into the bones of mankind and dominated the world since Earth as we knew it ceased to exist. The Generals are tied to certain items – the so-called Sennen Items, artefacts who can bring either peace or destruction to mankind, but their working and whereabouts are unknown, as are their original or respective owners.
Nowadays, there are only five Generals left. One died of old age, and one is held in captivity by us… the Resistance. Of the remaining five, the strongest one is referred to as ‘Pharaoh’. He is also rumored to be in the possession of the Sennen Puzzle, the equally most powerful Item of the seven in total – the very same Items I am trying to find to restore the Earth to what it once used to be.
One day, children will run free, adults will speak freely, everyone will live life as it was intended to be – free from hate, free from fear. Until then, we have to fight, and hold on to our hope.”
Recording of words spoken by Mutou Yuugi, date unknown
“Ouch, damnit!”
Jounouchi Katsuya cursed loudly, grabbing his foot with both hands and hopping comically around, cradling his foot limberly against his chest. Without thinking, he let go of his foot again and kicked the rock that caused him to stumble in the first place, yelling another string of colorful curses when the pain increased.
“Ow ow ow!! Stupid rock!”
“Onii-chan!”
A young girl’s voice was carried by the cold wind, and Jounouchi turned around, extending his arms. He didn’t need to – as quick and agile as a bird, his sister hopped from stone to stone, climbing down from a large pile of rubble that obstructed the road.
“Shizuka, be careful!”
She found his arms after all, and happily flung herself against his chest. Despite being blind, she knew the road and its obstructions better than her brother, perfectly avoiding every pothole, pile of rubble or broken tile in the pavement. Her face was obscured by a woollen, dark grey scarf wrapped around her head, leaving only her eyes and cheeks - red from the cold - visible. She shivered in his arms. It was too cold to stay outside, and he hadn’t found a suitable coat for her yet. This one was fortunately made from a thick, isolating material but it was too short; it barely reached her midriff. Her colorful dress flapped around her ankles, the fabric flimsy thin. She had to be freezing, but as always, no complaint ever left her lips.
“I know the way,” she mumbled. Her eyes stared at nothing, not blinking at the strands of hair blowing in her face. She brushed a few strands away, heaving a mildly annoyed sigh.
“Just another few blocks, onii-chan.”
“Yeah, I know. Com’on, let’s go.” He had dropped his bag when he had hit his toe – actually quite pathetic as his foot barely hurt. Shizuka would laugh at him if she knew he had made such a fuss over tripping over a stupid rock.
“Did you almost fall or something?”
It was wrong to assume that Shizuka, visually impaired, wouldn’t notice a thing – she just knew from the sound of his movements, the intonation in his voice or simply from the way he sighed, everything that he did and how he was doing it. Jounouchi grimaced, then ruffled his already tousled dirty-blond hair and chuckled.
“I stubbed my toe. Nothing serious,” he quickly added, when he saw a frown appear on his sister’s face. She could go from protective to scolding and back again in five seconds flat when it concerned her brother. Now she was looking torn between giving him a stern lecture and worrying about a possible injury.
“We have lost enough time as it is,” Jounouchi continued. “We have to go now, before Kaiba’s troops find us here. And I don’t know about you, but I’m getting mighty cold.”
Shizuka nodded. “I hope we can get hot chocolate!”
He refrained from barking a disdainful laugh. The chance that hot chocolate would be served upon their arrival at the Game Shop was less than zero. Shizuka kept bringing it up every now and then, and he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or charmed. Annoyed, because it reminded him again of how different he and Shizuka had grown up or charmed, because despite the bleakness of this world and the foreseeable future, she still retained a sweet, almost childish-innocent positive outlook on everything.
Breaking up the hug, he reached for her hand and tugged at it. He would protect his sister, for as long as he lived – and in case of the inevitable, his friends would take care of her. There hadn’t been any money to pay for the necessary surgery to keep her from going blind when she was still a small child, but he would do anything to protect her, and his friends loved and cared for her as well. She would be safe, always… he was sure of it.
They broke out in a calm jog; it was almost past curfew. If they could keep up this pace they would be inside on time. Jounouchi made sure to avoid any obstacle in the road, and Shizuka never hesitated when following him, her footsteps confident on the cracked pavement. The evening was starting to fall and the bag weighed heavy on his back. All he wanted was some warmth and some rest, not to mention food; he was dying for something to eat.
The Game Shop appeared as an abandoned and rundown building at first sight. It had lost all of its color; only a few flakes of red, green and yellow paint were still visible on the north and east walls, the rest had worn off. The letters that spelled the word “GAME” on the rooftop used to be lit, in days where people would come to visit and actually buy games. Mutou Sugoroku had been the last one to remember this from his youngest years until the world was taken over by despair; when he passed away at age seventy-seven, the lights had been dead for more than six decades.
Jounouchi ignored the front door facing the street. It had been closed for decades as well, the locks rusty and impossible to move. It was boarded up, and someone had spray-painted the painfully obvious “Closed” word on it. There was no glass in the two small rectangular windows next to the door either; no one would ever be able to peek through them to gawk at the merchandise inside, if the store had still been selling. The wood was starting to rot; if it hadn’t been for the very long nails driven into the planks to keep them in place, people would’ve torn them down to use for fuel.
“Can we go inside?”
Shizuka tugged at her shawl, the sound of her chattering teeth muffled by the garment. Jounouchi nodded absent-mindedly and quickly took her with him into the alley on the west side of the building; there was the door to enter properly. Before knocking, he looked up at the small, wooden lean-on above the door. The barely visible camera would scan him and Shizuka, verifying their identities. Rapping against the door, Jounouchi hopped from foot to foot. His own coat wasn’t that warm either. Within seconds, the door opened, rattling loudly as it slid through the rails. Those needed to be oiled, and soon – when was Honda going to be back?
“I don’t know, onii-chan,” Shizuka answered and he realized he’d been thinking out loud. “The door’s going to be stuck one day.”
“Hopefully he’ll be back soon,” Jounouchi said. He really missed his friend. Honda, Anzu and Yuugi were the only ones he trusted for the full 100 percent; undoubtedly, unconditionally. The four of them were the core of the Resistance, bound together by something deeper than just friendship.
The door closed automatically; both siblings stepped forward so it wouldn’t hit their ankles. A small hallway, dominated by a large staircase, led towards a door that separated the former game store from the living quarters. It was another oddity of this building to have the kitchen and the living room on the first floor, and the bedrooms on the second floor. Last but not least, there was even an attic – quite some room for a small family like the Mutous.
None of the above floors were accessible, not without Yuugi’s permission. It was widely known that he didn’t allow anyone to go upstairs, let alone to the bedrooms. Nobody questioned his decision, and it was rumored he had kept the bedrooms and the living room exactly the same from the day his parents and grandfather had died. An eerie, silent witness of a moment in time where he had found himself, as many other people, without family, fallen at the hands of Gozaburo’s Elite Troops. Not many people spoke about the tragedies in their lives in this world – not even Mutou Yuugi.
“This way.” Jounouchi reached for a door handle, obscured by a coat rack. Shizuka huddled against him, rubbing her hands to keep her fingers warm. Jounouchi muttered something under his breath as he fumbled around for the light button. He flipped it, immediately squinting his eyes against the sudden influx of bright light – it didn’t make any difference to Shizuka, of course.
He pulled her into a small bathroom – barely larger than a square meter. The crème colored tiles were spotless clean, faintly scenting like a cheap cleansing product. A sink with a large mirror and a tall cupboard took half of the room, the rest being occupied by the shower cabin.
Jounouchi hopped into it, crouching down as to count with his fingers row after row of tiles, muttering a victorious “A-ha!” as he pressed one – only a soft click was audible. He straightened himself, taking his sister’s hand again as they waited for the wall to move. Honda had really outdone himself on this construction. From the outside, this looked like any other ordinary shower cabin; only a select few knew what was hiding behind this wall. Jounouchi waited patiently for the wall to move, revealing a big, gaping dark hole.
“I’ll go first,” he said and before Shizuka could answer, he had stepped through the opening, turning around and balancing his feet on the stainless steel ladder that was mounted on the wall. He took a few steps down before allowing her to descend as well; the wall was already moving back into place so they needed to hurry. Shizuka had gone down this ladder a million times before; still, Jounouchi hovered over her until she reached the last step. It was pitch dark after the wall had closed itself; after half a minute, the light in the hallway was automatically lit.
Shizuka shivered again; cold temperatures outside, cold temperatures inside. This basement was one and all solid rock and concrete, trapping the cold. Generation after generation of the Mutou family had worked hard to realize this underground shelter. It was hard to imagine the friendly and good-natured Mutous to have the foresight that Kaiba Gozaburo’s reign wouldn’t end anytime soon, but she was glad they had. Shizuka didn’t know how long and how hard the family had worked on this – but it had proven its worth ten times already, probably more than hundred times. This was the heart of the Resistance, and she never felt safe anywhere but here.
“Onii-chan, wait up..!”
“Sorry,” Jounouchi mumbled. His eyes were finally adjusted to the sparse light, and he helped her down another ladder, descending deeper and deeper into the basement. He hoped that at least some coffee was ready; he really could use something warm now. The bag over his shoulder was starting to weigh heavy.
Another few steps down, until they reached the metal door. They stood still as to allow another camera to scan them – it only took a minute. The door slid open without as much as a sound.
“Hey, Jounouchi!”
“Jounouchi! It’s Jounouchi!”
A bunch of young refugees, huddled together in the hallway jumped up when seeing him, greeting him abundantly. He flashed a V-sign to them. He regretted that he didn’t have some extra food with him to share with the kids; the provisions in his bag were scarce enough already. They looked at him expectantly, eyes showing disappointment when they realized he had nothing on him; he ruffled their hair, muttering an apology. Their lives were already hard enough as it was, and it was heartwrenching to know that he couldn’t make their situation any better.
The children covered themselves with blankets, ironically quite colorful compared to the gray walls. Shizuka went past them as well, trying to lift their spirits; judging from some of the giggling and smiles she elicited, she managed it well. Jounouchi waited for her to catch up with him.
Doors on either side of the hallway led to several rooms; the underground complex had a sick bay, several meeting rooms, guest rooms, even a confinement room (though Jounouchi couldn’t recall someone had ever made ‘use’ of it) and a kitchen. The Resistance was like a sanctuary to those who were a victim of Gozaburo’s reign; Yuugi wanted everyone to feel welcome here, and did everything he could to help, regardless of anyone’s faith, skin color or past.
“Where’s Yuugi?” Jounouchi asked. The kids put up wide eyes, huddling more into the blankets. They were quite impressed by Jounouchi asking casually for the leader of the Resistance, and they mumbled that he was in the ‘large room’. Stealing glances when he and Shizuka passed by, Jounouchi caught them muttering, but he couldn’t make out their words. Taking Shizuka by the hand again, they continued their path.
‘The large room’ was exactly what it was – a large room, the exact center of the underground basement, connecting the various hallways together. Jounouchi had been here so often that he knew the layout by heart. Hell, he all but grew up in here – after his father died, he didn’t have much to stay home for. Not until he finally found Shizuka again, and…
“Jounouchi-kun!”
“Yuugi,” he grinned and closed the distance between them, giving his friend a brief, but bone-crushing hug. Yuugi groaned a little, poking at Jounouchi’s sides to let him go.
“What took you so long?” Yuugi didn’t sound worried or suspicious, more curious. It was very close to curfew, and anyone out on the streets after that specific time would fall prey to Gozaburo’s Elite Troops… though they didn’t need the excuse of breaking the curfew to go around harassing and terrorizing people. Yuugi had lost his parents to their actions, just like many others – in the eyes of those soldiers, nothing or nobody held any value or respect.
“Sorry I couldn’t find everything,” Jounouchi answered, showing Yuugi the bag. He put it on the large, rectangular table in the center of the room. “It’s not exactly like fun happy go-around-shopping-and-get-everything-yo
“I know,” Yuugi answered in all earnest. “Thank you, Jounouchi-kun.”
He gave him a slap on his back. “Don’t worry! It’s a-okay.”
“Yuugi-kun,” Shizuka greeted him, measuring her steps infallibly until she reached the table without bumping into it.
“Shizuka-chan,” he returned the greeting. “You’re cold, aren’t you? There’s some tea…”
Jounouchi went to the north corner of the room to the pitcher of water. They had to be careful with water, as with the rest of their provisions. A water heater was next to it – he carefully poured some into it and flipped the switch. Yuugi opened the bag and emptied its contents on the table top. Cans rolled over the smooth surface, and more cartons fell out, along with a box of candles, a bundle of matches, a bottle of oil and a piece of rope.
“Good work, Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi reached for a can of peas that almost rolled off the table. He studied each and every can, examining the labels.
“No baby formula?”
“Too hard to get,” Jounouchi muttered. It was frustrating to be so dependent on what the black market had to offer. Gozaburo condoned trade to a certain degree – for exorbitant prices. Commercial trade had been limited for years, and everyone knew Gozaburo picked out the best of everything for himself and his Generals. Smuggling was lively, despite the man’s efforts to catch the culprits and control the black market himself – people were quite inventive when it came to survival. However, it made any choice limited, and kept the prices high.
“Fucking tyrant,” he mumbled and waited until the water boiled. No coffee tonight; they had run out on the last can a few days ago. Tea was cheaper, but not quite his taste. Heaving a sigh, Jounouchi hung the teabag in a large pot and added the hot water.
“You want some too, Yuugi?”
“No thank you,” the other answered.
He put the pot and some cups on a dented tray and brought it over to the table. Shizuka wrapped her fingers immediately around the cup Jounouchi gave her, sighing in relief. She pursed her lips a little; it was too hot to drink yet.
“Maybe Isis-san wants a cup too, Jounouchi-kun.” Yuugi’s voice sometimes held the same childlike innocence to it as Shizuka’s – but there was nothing childlike or innocent about his words. Yuugi knew very, very well what he was talking about. Jounouchi almost dropped his own cup, and turned his head brusquely to his left.
In the far west corner of the room sat a woman dressed in sleeveless, beige-colored robes, hands folded solemnly in her lap. Her face and hair were covered by a veil in the same color as her dress, leaving only her eyes visible. She was adorned with golden jewelry; large, heavy bands around her bare upper arms and wrists, an intricate crown holding the veil in place, and earrings catching the faint light whenever she tilted her head a little. Strikingly, her neck was bare. She was the epitome of calmness, simply sitting into the corner on a wooden chair.
She was a General. Jounouchi’s lips twisted in a bitter, disdainful grimace.
“What is she doing here?”
“Jounouchi-kun, Isis-san wanted to enjoy a different environment,” Yuugi said. Jounouchi didn’t know the reason why Yuugi kept the old speech pattern his grandfather had taught him; he himself had stopped using honorifics a long time ago, if he already had bothered using them in the first place. Shizuka used honorifics out of sheer politeness, and he had heard other people pick op on it too – it was fine by him, but hell would freeze over before he would address a General with anything remotely resembling an honorific.
He snorted. “She should be in her room.” The same room Yuugi far too often left far too unsupervised. Really, one day or the other his friend would get bitten in the ass hard because of his good-natured trust in people. Jounouchi scowled.
“Isis-san hasn’t been out of her room for days.” Yuugi arranged the cans and cartons, writing down their numbers and contents on a scrap of paper. His handwriting was incredibly tiny – paper was scarce, too.
“That’s her problem, not ours,” Jounouchi immediately shot back.
“Onii-chan,” Shizuka piped up. She had found a small chair in the other corner and sat down, fingers still wrapped around her cup. “That’s enough, onii-chan.”
“Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said. “It’s all right. She’s not a General any more. She left that behind her when we… found her. We mustn’t forget that she sought us out.”
He stiffened. Isis had sought out the Resistance, that much was for sure – and the woman had simply allowed herself to be captured. Jounouchi relented that the Resistance had easily overpowered her; she had barely put up a fight. Everyone knew that Generals disposed over incredible powers. Jounouchi hadn’t witnessed her use any, but still… he expected her to turn her back on the Resistance as easily as she had done on her fellow Generals. The only time Isis showed any emotion but her usual aloofness was when she talked about her brother. Once, she had been very upset about someone named ‘Mahaado’, but he didn’t know the details about that – and he certainly didn’t want to know.
“Yuugi, I don’t understand,” he said, unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice. “She’s not of any value to us.”
“Isis-san has given us very valuable information,” Yuugi immediately objected.
“Some, but not much,” Jounouchi continued. “She has never given us any information about the names and powers of the other Generals. She keeps referring to one of them as ‘the Pharaoh’ and mentions every time that he looks like you. You should be totally creeped out, man – a General looking like you! Did she give us any information on Gozaburo’s headquarters? On how to attack him? On how to defeat him?”
It dawned to him that his voice was raising with every other word he spoke, and he was shouting at the end of his sentence. Jounouchi felt his face flush, and he fell silent, a little taken aback by his own vehemence.
“We need every little bit of information we can get, even if it’s not much.” Yuugi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Even if it doesn’t mean anything to you. Whatever intelligence we gather, thanks to Isis-san, thanks to others… it’s all important. And for everything good in this world, Jounouchi-kun… we aren’t going to lower ourselves to the level of someone like Kaiba Gozaburo. Nothing will happen to Isis-san as long as I am still around.”
Yuugi wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t telling how much of a great leader he was, or how much power he held by spearheading the Resistance. Jounouchi was reminded once again why Mutou Yuugi led this group of rebels; not because he could keep a good overview and had a knack for organization and intelligence, but because he was kind. Kind enough to allow a former enemy to stay with them, to give her shelter and offer her protection, kind enough to see the best in every bad situation and make it work – the Resistance didn’t need a person with big weapons or a massive ego; they needed someone with their heart in the right place.
“There are five of them left,” Jounouchi said. He had all but forgotten about the tea. “Five, and among them this ‘Pharaoh’ dude.”
“We’ll find them.” Yuugi put away the scrap of paper he’d been scribbling on, and pulled out a map of the city. “We’ll find them and defeat them, Jounouchi-kun.”
Heaving a sigh, Jounouchi walked over to the table and came to stand next to Yuugi, gazing at the unfolded city map. He stole a quick glance at Isis, who hadn’t taken part in the discussion at all. Her eyes were focused on him; dark, slightly slanted eyes that drilled right through him. He couldn’t read them – but he shivered, unnerved by her intense look. He quickly leaned over the map.
“That woman gives me the creeps,” he muttered, soft enough to be overheard by Yuugi only.
“Jounouchi-kun, every woman gives you the creeps,” his friend deadpanned and ducked immediately for the inevitable swat, laughing out loud.
The view of the city was magnificent from this altitude. Majestic. Calm. Beautiful. Breath taking. Night or early morning, it didn’t matter to him. It was amazing how far he could see from here, and it reminded him strangely of… something. A memory that was just… out of his reach, unable to grasp, a black spot floating through his mind, a memory that just didn’t want to surface.
He heaved a small sigh and pressed his forehead against the thick glass. The windows couldn’t be opened; it was bullet-proof glass. Such a marvellous view – but he couldn’t reach out for the sky, not even get a whiff of fresh air or hear birds sing. It was nothing but a glass cage, the windows reaching from floor to ceiling. The whole idea of bullet-proof glass was ridiculous; he didn’t understand why Kaiba Gozaburo had been so adamant about it in the first place.
The door on the other side of the room opened; the familiar soft ‘swish’ sound of the door panels sliding apart announcing the arrival of a visitor. It was the only sound – footsteps were immediately muffled by the rich, thick carpeting on the floor.
“Pharaoh, you know I don’t like it when you stand so close to the window.”
The raspy voice should by all means grate on his nerves, but after hearing it for so long he had simply grown used to it. He didn’t look up, eyes still glued to the city. It was bathing in the sun, and he could see people moving about from here; just like ants, extremely tiny ants. His visitor walked with a cane – its sound was also muffled by the carpet. Lighter footsteps followed the elderly man; a slender young man, boyish, his raven black hair tied back into a ponytail, huddled behind the first man as if he wanted to make himself invisible, cradling a black clipboard to his chest.
They passed a large, oval table; the wood was thick and carved with a curly pattern, its tabletop was pristine glass. A silver tray was exactly in the middle, with a few bowls and a large jug on it, all made of silver. The displayed food was obviously untouched; the warm dishes had cooled off.
“I don’t like it either when you don’t eat,” he said, sounding grumpy. The young man behind him scribbled something on his clipboard.
He finally turned around, away from the window, looking at the other man disdainfully. His crimson red eyes never failed in making people feel uncomfortable, no matter how often he looked at them. Narrowing them slightly, he had brought rulers to their knees with his eyes, presidents, monarchs and dictators – all in the name of Kaiba Gozaburo. The same Gozaburo, who shifted around nervously in front of him. Everyone felt unnerved by his eyes.
“Are you feeling all right, Pharaoh?” Gozaburo inquired, as he received no answer. “I know I requested your return from Africa rather abruptly – however, I want to do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable. I can give you anything you want: your favorite dish, your favorite entertainment. You name it, and I’ll make sure you’ll get it.”
“I do not care for cheap superficial desires as ‘favorite dishes’.” His voice was low and curt.
“Pharaoh.” Gozaburo motioned for the other behind him to step forward. “You know your health and well-being are very important to me. I want you to feel appreciated and respected, like you know we all do – please tell me what’s wrong, and either I or Otogi will do anything we can to help you.”
The Pharaoh’s hand went to his chest, stroking the front of his silk bathrobe as if he was searching for something. Gozaburo narrowed his eyes – the other wasn’t aware of his gesture, but he understood it very well. The Pharaoh would not shame him by asking to give him the only thing he couldn’t get – even for Kaiba Gozaburo, the Sennen Items were hard to find.
Before he could speak, he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening again. Two people entered, sauntering lazily over to where everyone were standing. Gozaburo narrowed his eyes even more, obviously annoyed by the unannounced arrival of the other visitors. He didn’t miss the subtle change in the Pharaoh’s features, however – his eyes, framed by unnaturally long dark lashes, softened just a little. Just a little enough to make one feel the tiniest bit less uncomfortable.
The elder man refrained from showing a smug grin; it had been a good idea to assign these two to the Pharaoh. If there was anyone who could make him feel better, these two could do it.
“Such a pretty sight, Pharaoh.”
“Good morning, Pharaoh-sama.”
The first one who had spoken was tall, the impression of his height even stronger because of his wild, gravity defying platinum blond hair, spiking in almost every possible direction. His tan body was wiry and strong, and sported an overdose of golden jewelry, notably on his arms, wrists, neck and ears. Dressed in a simple black shirt and khaki cargo pants, he was a strong contrast with his pale companion, clad in denim jeans with a blue and white striped shirt, combined with a light blue, long jacket.
“Good morning Marik, Bakura,” Gozaburo answered though his voice held no veritable joy. The two bowed to him, the movement short. “Is there any reason why you are here?”
“We’re here to see pretty Pharaoh,” Marik said. “After all, it’s been two whole days since we last saw him.”
“You know that he needs to rest after having summoned the Gods, Marik,” Gozaburo snapped.
“Bakura?”
The other looked up with a murderous look in his eyes, immediately shifting
to a more neutral one as soon as he saw who had addressed him. Long, bone-white hair fell over his shoulders to his mid-back, framing a pale, face with bloodless, thin lips and dark brown eyes. He, Marik and the Pharaoh had the same dark, long lashes, but that was the only physical trait they shared.
“What is it?”
“Do you have anything to say? Mind your manners.”
Bakura bowed to the man again, albeit grudgingly. “I have nothing to say.”
“Very well. I see I don’t need to remind you… yet.” Gozaburo dismissed the two from his mind as soon as he focused his attention on the Pharaoh again.
“Think about it,” he said, voice smooth and suave. “I will let you know when I need your services again. Until then, rest up and enjoy.”
The Pharaoh nodded, lips pursed in a slightly disapproving scowl. Gozaburo turned to leave, Otogi mimicking his movement, but not after he stole another glance at the Pharaoh.
As soon as they had left, Marik stepped up to the Pharaoh and unabashedly wrapped his arms around his waist. The Pharaoh responded by removing his arms, batting at his hands.
“Don’t be so distant,” the other said, mock-hurt. He leaned with his face on the Pharaoh’s shoulder, even though he had to slouch – the Pharaoh was considerably shorter. “Are you looking at the city again?”
“Stupid humans,” Bakura snorted. He had ventured towards the table with the food, and was rather unceremoniously eating with his fingers from the dishes.
Marik pulled the Pharaoh even closer, his arms once again around his waist, moving up his hands.
“I like it soo~ooo much when you are still in your pajamas,” he breathed, slender fingers trailing over the silk, dark purple fabric.
“Marik, stop it,” the Pharaoh answered, but didn’t remove his arms this time.
“Pharaoh is pretty in his armor, but Pharaoh is even prettier in his pajamas,” Marik said, nodding enthusiastically as he started unravelling the knot in the sash that held the bathrobe in place. Bakura looked up from the dish he was snacking from; as he saw how the scene turned interesting very fast, he smacked his lips and closed the distance between them. Marik already shoved the bathrobe over the Pharaoh’s shoulders.
“You’re not wearing your pajama top,” he purred contently, “you can get me so hot when you’re not wearing your pajama top.”
“Marik, no, stop it,” the Pharaoh repeated, his voice sounding angry, dissolving into a short gasp when Marik grabbed his face and forced him to look at him. He kissed him roughly, pressing his lips fiercely on the Pharaoh’s. Bakura continued taking off the bathrobe and with one more movement, the garment ended up on the floor, pooling around the Pharaoh’s bare feet.
“I have to get dressed,” the Pharaoh mumbled. “Get dressed and get something to eat…”
“It can wait.” Marik could be very determined if he wanted to. Bakura brought up his hand to stroke the Pharaoh’s hair, fingers tangling in the multi-colored strands.
“Why the hurry, Pharaoh-sama?” He smirked. His eyes went just a little wider when he received a smile in return, and he leaned forward to press a kiss on the other’s neck.
“Bed,” he said, “or on the floor?”
“It’s just early morning,” Marik answered, fingers sliding over exposed skin, going lower until he reached the waistband of the pajama pants, scratching lightly. “Bed for now.”
“Stop talking as if I am not here,” the Pharaoh protested, and yelped when Bakura suddenly tugged at his hair.
“Fight us, Pharaoh-sama,” he said, eyes flickering in a mixture of anger and excitement. “Fight us, if you really don’t want this!”
“Call out our names.” Marik breathed heavily in his ear, nails tearing the fragile fabric. “Call them out just like you call your Gods,” he hissed, digging his fingers into the Pharaoh’s skin. He groaned and tried to free himself, but to no avail. Marik was the strongest of them, a brute, physical force who would only stop after being satisfied.
“Bakura..!” The Pharaoh turned his head to him to see if he could expect any help – which was rather futile in itself. He knew what was going to happen, his body was already preparing for it, anticipating, his breathing erratic as shivers ran down his spine, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
“That’s a start,” Bakura grinned, and those were the last words spoken.
Gozaburo usually didn’t wait for the screams to begin – or to stop. He could’ve just as easily ordered Otogi to bring Marik and Bakura to his office if he wanted to. Instead, he waited outside, grateful for the doors being thick enough to not let every sound pass. He didn’t need a mental image to go with it; the ones who were screaming in pain, probably begged for it. The ones screaming in pleasure… that was another train of thought he didn’t want to pursue.
It didn’t take long, this time, just as expected. He checked his watch – he had more things to do than waiting until some primal desires had been satisfied. He ignored Otogi standing behind him, clipboard in hand. He hopped from one foot to another; he didn’t like waiting either.
The door opened and Gozaburo straightened himself. His eyes darted over Marik and Bakura, checking for injuries – it wouldn’t be the first time they had bitten off more than they could chew. Though dishevelled, and Marik sporting a deep scratch under his right eye, they both seemed to be relatively unscathed.
“Marik, Bakura,” Gozaburo called their names as they grinned to each other and talked in an ancient language – a language he didn’t master. Another minor annoyance.
“Hello Gozaburo-daaai~myoooo.” Marik’s voice mockingly went up several octaves. He and Bakura were pretty surprised to find the man outside of the room, apparently waiting for them. This didn’t bode very well. Bakura didn’t greet him, and drew his lips into a tight line.
“How is he?” the man barked.
“Pretty Pharaoh is taking a shower,” Marik said, still grinning. Bakura snickered.
“You look like you could use one yourself,” Gozaburo growled. Maybe his earlier thought that assigning these two to the Pharaoh had been a good idea, was a bad thought after all. He was too lenient with them, allowing them too much freedom. Maybe he should remind them of their place in the hierarchy once again. They were only here to make things comfortable for the Pharaoh, his prize possession. However, if by some coincidence the Pharaoh would order them to be killed, Gozaburo wouldn’t hesitate for a second. It would mean destroying his own work, though… which always pained him, in a rather uncharacteristic manner.
“He’s going to be all clean and shiny again,” Marik continued, a besotted expression on his face.
“Very well. Make sure that he eats his breakfast,” Gozaburo said while looking at Bakura. He showed a watery smile in return.
“How? He doesn’t eat that much anyway.”
“Then figure out something to work up his appetite!”
“I rather work other things up,” Marik deadpanned. He was rewarded with a hit to his stomach from Gozaburo’s cane, the man driving it into his abdomen full force.
“Idiot,” he snarled, using the cane to lean on it again as Marik wheezed, taking a small step back. “I created the both of you. I can easily un-create you as well, remember that! You are of no value to me, nothing!”
“We are the only ones who can keep Pharaoh-sama sane,” Bakura spoke up, his voice calm but eerily dark. “You don’t want your precious Pharaoh-sama to go batshit and use his Gods to burn you alive, do you?”
“You insolent piece of trash,” Gozaburo said, trying to keep his voice just as calm as Bakura’s, but failing. “You’ll both be reminded of your little value, and I’ll supervise your punishment personally! Otogi!”
“Yes?” He shot up, pressing the clipboard against his chest as if it were his last lifeline.
“Have everything prepared for their punishment,” the man barked. “Within the hour!”
“Yes, Gozaburo-daimyo,” Otogi said and bowed.
“And another thing,” Gozaburo growled at the two in the hallway. “Make also sure that he wears his armor. That is an order! He has to wear his armor!”
He glared at Marik and Bakura one more time, before stalking off angrily. Otogi didn’t hesitate for a second to follow him.
“You fucking stupid piece of fuck,” Bakura snarled as soon as the others were gone. “Look at what you have gotten us into!”
“I believe it was you who opened his big yap to the old fucker,” Marik answered dryly. “You remind him, he reminds us. It’s the circle of life!”
“You’re fucking nuts,” Bakura grumbled.
“Of course I am,” Marik cackled. Despite his eyes being narrowed to mere slits, Bakura could still see the hint of excitement in them – anything involving pain had the utmost interest of Marik Ishtar.
Sometimes, Bakura wondered if he was the only one really sane around here; Marik had already lost it a long time ago, the Pharaoh was teetering on the edge, and Gozaburo was a dubious case. But at least, as long as he himself was sane and maintained the overview of the situation, and he was patient. Oh yes, was he ever patient. It would be even better if he knew more about what he was, but his memory wasn’t all that clear. He did know one thing, though: when the time was there, he would strike, and everything be damned to every hell, but Bakura was going to be the one hauling off with the ultimate prize.
Jounouchi blinked. His eyes tired after a while – staring for hours on end at a city map gave him a headache. It was getting late and nobody had made any preparations for dinner yet; his stomach was rumbling.
“We have searched all over quadrants A-1 to E-6,” Yuugi said, using a marker to draw a cross over the squares on the map. The tip of the marker squeaked on the paper.
Jounouchi straightened himself and rubbed in his eyes, his vision troubled.
“Yuugi, we should really give this a rest, don’t you think?”
Even Shizuka had fallen asleep. She had been following their conversation attentively, enjoying her tea, but as both men had been studying the map for quite some time now, she had dozed off, slumped in her chair.
Yuugi screwed the cap back on the marker and put it on the table. He looked tired as well, and as if to demonstrate, he stifled a yawn.
“Yes, you’re right, Jounouchi-kun. We’ll continue later. Let’s have something to eat first.”
He turned away from the table, only to be held back by Jounouchi. He put a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Jounouchi-kun?”
“I mean, to give it really a rest, Yuugi.” He was dead serious, and from the look in his friend’s eyes he knew that the other understood it. However, it didn’t surprise him at all that Yuugi immediately shook his head.
“We can’t stop now, Jounouchi-kun. Our greatest hope is to find those Items; we can only achieve that by systematically searching the city and eliminate quadrant by quadrant.”
“We don’t even know if they are in Domino City. What if you’re chasing ghosts?”
“I’m fairly sure we’re on the right track,” Yuugi said, face set in determination. “Not long from now, we have eliminated all poss…”
“Damnit Yuugi, we don’t even know what they look like, what they do and how they work!” Jounouchi interrupted him, slamming his fist on the table.
“We already have two of them. The rest of the Items must be found as soon as possible to complete the set of seven.” Yuugi’s voice left little to no room to argue.
“Gozaburo is looking for the Items as well, and he has his Generals by his side.”
“I doubt he’s looking for them to bring peace to this world, Jounouchi-kun. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“In the wrong hands, the Items will do exactly the opposite.” Jounouchi gritted his teeth. “That’s how the story goes, isn’t it? I’ve heard it a million times before and still-”
“The Items in the wrong hands will bring death and destruction,” a female voice spoke up, loud enough to interrupt him.
Jounouchi and Yuugi turned their heads towards Isis. She was still sitting in the same corner, not looking back, and simply staring at the wall. A slender hand touched her bare neck as if searching for something.
“Anyone can use them for evil, only a few can use them for good. The one who uses them for good will have more power than the one using them for evil.”
“Stop talking in riddles,” Jounouchi said, impatiently. He blew a few strands
of hair out if his face.
“Do you know where the Items are, Isis-san?”
She shook her head, still avoiding any eye contact.
“I only know of one, and for the ones I… had with me.” She heaved a sigh, as if speaking was a tremendous exertion. “No one knows the locations of the other Items, that is why Gozaburo has us… his Generals looking for them too.”
“Damn,” Jounouchi groaned. He didn’t have much faith in those ‘Sennen Items” as Yuugi and Isis referred to them. It was about seven gold, tacky objects, fancy jewelry supposedly called Ring, Rod, Eye, Puzzle, Tauk, Scales, and Ankh. They were rumored to be able to restore peace… or to plunge the world in eternal darkness. It sounded all too far-fetched according to Jounouchi; he couldn’t believe that items were able to restore peace in a world dominated by one person. One person and five exceedingly strong Generals with creepy powers.
When the Resistance had captured Isis, she had two of the very same Items with her – the Tauk and the Eye. The Tauk had been wrapped into a piece of cloth, but she had refused to wear it when Yuugi offered it to her, despite her claims of the Item being hers. She couldn’t care less for the Eye and had all but thrown it on the floor after her capture, also refusing to tell where or who she had gotten it from.
“You will never be able to fight all of them,” Isis suddenly said. She even stood up from her chair, hands still folded in front of her. “The Generals will protect whatever Items they manage to find, and Gozaburo will have an army to protect the Generals.”
“You are one of them – tell us more about them!” Jounouchi shook his fist into her face. “Tell us their weaknesses, their strengths, their powers – anything that could help us defeat them!”
“Jounouchi-kun, stop it!”
“I have told you all that I know,” Isis answered him, her voice holding a hint of irritation. “It wasn’t like we were best friends or had much in common. Sometimes we didn’t see each other for months, and interaction was limited.”
“We talked about this before,” Yuugi said, glaring at Jounouchi. They often clashed when it came to Isis; this wasn’t the first time that Jounouchi tried to force more information out of her, whereas Yuugi tried to be more diplomatic. The woman had been very sparse with her words, and they both knew that she had to know more – one wasn’t a General for so many years without picking up a lot of intelligence.
“Even if you manage to defeat the Generals one by one, there is still the most powerful one,” Isis continued.
“Yeah yeah, that Pharaoh dude,” Jounouchi snorted.
“He is not a ‘dude’,” Isis answered, voice chilly. “He commands the Gods.” Her eyes expressed smoldering anger at Jounouchi’s disparaging words. “They answer his call. Not Gozaburo’s - his and his call only. The God of Destruction, the God of Annihilation, the God of Golden Death. Their divine powers surpass every imagination possible, and he commands all three of them.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Yuugi said, downtrodden. “How can we ever deal with this..? How can we ever defeat such a person? We don’t have Gods on our side. We have to find the Items. Only if we find them, we can bring peace to this world without a fight.”
“Impossible,” Jououchi said. There would be no such thing as a victory without a fight, without casualties, and he had suggested several times to have Gozaburo killed. He didn’t know how they were to enter the tyrant’s Tower and get past all the security, but he was willing to work on plans if Yuugi hadn’t outright veto-ed it.
Isis relaxed her hands; unbeknownst, she had grabbed the fabric of her dress and wrinkled it, hands clenched into fists. She heaved another soft sigh.
“My brother is a fugitive in this world,” she said. “He can never settle down, he can never build up a life and live his dreams. It is Fate, it is his destiny, even though he tries so hard to resist it. One day he will settle down and enjoy a sunrise in freedom… until then, there is Darkness and hate around him.”
“We’ll find him, Isis-san.” Yuugi sounded confident, but the looks he exchanged with Jounouchi weren’t. The world was a large place, and Isis’ brother was a master at keeping himself hidden. He had the Rod with him – a Sennen Item they were looking for, just like Gozaburo and his Generals. No one sane would voluntarily come to Domino City, the center of Gozaburo’s empire, handing over the Item on a silver platter.
Jounouchi crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He could’ve send you a postcard with his whereabouts, though.”
“Jounouchi-kun, she left everything behind to join our cause,” Yuugi said. “She doesn’t deserve any scolding...or sarcasm.”
“She’s a General, and she didn’t ‘join our cause’. She walked away from her previous boss for reasons Gods know why, and leaves us with the mess she made.”
He frowned. Out of all the qualities Yuugi possessed, he still clung to that naïve-good-natured trait of his, that infuriating attitude to see everything on the positive, trustful side. He needed to toughen op, or at least slam with his fist on the table a few times. Yuugi chose to be soft at the most inconvenient of times - he had never even asked for Isis’ reasons to join the Resistance.
Jounouchi figured it had to do something with that elusive brother of hers, and because of that, several valued members of the Resistance traveled all over the world trying to find him. They left cryptic messages here and there, asking him to contact Isis; only in the way he knew how to reach her. The former General had worn a certain type of armor when she had been captured, but she had a dress with her and after taking off the armor, she had never worn anything else. She avoided talking about her life as a General as much as possible and Yuugi, of all the foolish things he could do, simply accepted that and didn’t impose on her.
“Not anymore,” Yuugi said. “Let it be, Jounouchi-kun. It’s time for dinner anyway. Let’s see what we can scrunch up around here, shall we?”
Isis’ eyes seemed a little bit warmer, just a little bit. It was impossible to tell if she was smiling behind the veil or not.
“Thank you, Yuugi.”
Jounouchi was the one to grumble something in return, but he turned away from her, erasing her from his mind for now. Shizuka had awoken from the ruckus, and he felt guilty.
“Do you want something to eat too, sis?”
“Of course, onii-chan,” she said and smiled brightly. That made him feel incredibly better, and Jounouchi whistled a nondescript tune as he went to the kitchen.
Chapter 2