Otogi remained silent as he walked with Marik through the hallway, trying to ignore the other as much as possible. Like many other servants, Otogi was afraid of him - the man was known for his volatile, violent temper and unpredictability. If he were the Pharaoh, Otogi would’ve chosen for someone more stable and reliable, but it was a well-known fact that somehow the powerful General didn’t mind Marik’s company at all.
It wasn’t the first time, and Otogi suspected neither the last time, that he guided Marik to Gozaburo’s office to recieve punishment. Sometimes he wondered if Marik was truly aware of what he was saying; the way he went around calling everyone ‘pretty’ accompanied by a noun that he thought was most fitting for the person in question, was more often than not unsettling. He couldn’t remember if Marik ever called anyone by his or her true name, not that it really mattered. There was barely any interaction between Marik, Bakura and the other servants, let alone Gozaburo’s personal assistant, and Otogi preferred to keep it that way.
No one really knew for certain how to deal with these two, Marik and Bakura. They were only around for the ‘Pharaoh’s benefit’, whatever that was supposed to mean. Some servants thought the two had some sort of control over the Pharaoh, but no one knew exactly what or how. Otogi had hoped Gozaburo would’ve gotten rid of them somehow; but it was futile. Gozaburo wouldn’t do a thing to upset his strongest General; and taking away Marik and Bakura would make him really, really upset. Otogi itched to talk to Yuugi, Jounouchi or any other member of the Resistance. They had to be informed of the arrival of another General, Mahaado, at the Kaiba Corp. Headquarters. The presence of two Generals, and ‘coincidentally’ the two most powerful, led him to think that Gozaburo was up to something.
The door to Gozaburo’s office opened soundlessly from a distance. Otogi didn’t know where the pressure switch was. With the door wide open, Gozaburo could exactly see who was entering his office and he looked up from his massive desk. Except for a large bookcase and one chair, the desk was the only furniture. Otogi didn’t know either where Gozaburo’s private quarters were located; he assumed they were somewhere at this floor, probably next to the office.
“Marik, there you are,” the elder man spoke. “I will deal with you later.”
“Gozaburo-daimyo, Mahaado has arrived,” Otogi said while Marik went to the corner and stood lifelessly still, his blank, pupil-less eyes focused on… nothing. It creeped him out.
“Ah, already? Excellent, excellent.” Gozaburo didn’t look at Otogi. Instead, he eyed a stack of papers, neatly arranged on his desk. “Is he available?”
“He’s with pretty Pharaoh,” Marik answered before Otogi could. Gozaburo grunted.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak!”
“So sorry,” Marik answered cheerfully. ‘Cheerful’ was something that really didn’t go well with his personality, and Otogi cringed at the obvious insincerity in his voice. He quickly bowed to Gozaburo.
“Tell Mahaado that I want to see him as soon as he is… finished,” the man said. “Don’t make me wait.”
“As you wish, Gozaburo-daimyo.” Otogi bowed once more and turned to leave. His clipboard weighed quite a lot; despite all the available technology, Gozaburo relied on hand-written orders and refused to communicate by computer. The clipboard was holding an impressive amount of orders and to-do-lists. Otogi tried to get his hands on as many chores as possible, collecting orders and lists to search for anything that could help the Resistance. Unfortunately, he could only get small bits and pieces of information, but it was better than nothing. He gritted his teeth, straightened himself and broke out in a jog.
Turning around the corner, Otogi bumped into someone else. He smothered a curse as he fell ungracefully on the floor, dropping his clipboard. Groaning, he reached for it as he sat upright again, turning to face the other. To his horror, it was Kaiba Noa on the floor, muttering a similar curse as he rubbed over his chest. It wasn’t strange to find him so close to his father’s quarters, despite their strained relationship. KaibaCorp. Headquarters held many secrets, but the difficult father-son interaction wasn’t one of them.
“My apologies, Noa-sama,” Otogi immediately said, keeping his voice as well as his eyes low. He quickly got up and reached for Noa to help him up. Stay humble, offer your apologies again, he reminded himself. Getting mad or snippy with Gozaburo’s son would surely get him thrown into the containment cells at the lower floors.
Noa accepted his help however, and took precious time dusting himself and his white suit off, meanwhile muttering something under his breath. Finally, he looked at the one who had the nerve to knock him over.
“Otogi, right?” Noa gauged his reaction. He’d never considered any of Gozaburo’s assistants to be of any value, but Otogi had managed to stay longer in his father’s service than all the previous assistants combined, which was very interesting.
“Yes, Noa-sama,” Otogi confirmed and wanted to apologize again, but Noa stuck up his hand, silencing him.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, voice suave. “You’re not in any kind of trouble.” Though you did run me over, you twit. “This could’ve happened to anyone,” he continued, seeing Otogi relax visibly.
“You must’ve had either extremely good or disturbing news to be running this fast.” Noa narrowed his eyes, leering at the clipboard in Otogi’s arms. He was dying to read the orders Gozaburo had issued, and he could command Otogi to hand over the clipboard…but the assistant would undoubtedly tattle to Gozaburo, and Noa didn’t want his father to know about his profound interest in the man’s orders.
He wasn’t aware of the bitter scowl appearing on his face, tugging the corners of his lips down in a sour, disapproving grimace. Until the day that Seto had arrived, Gozaburo had shared every order, every command, every thought, every little bit of his strategy and his vision with him, Noa, the one and only true son. Not some adopted street rat. Ever since Seto had entered his life, Noa had seen everything slip through his fingers, unable to stop it all.
Gozaburo had withdrawn into himself and had refused to tell him anything. His meetings with Seto were far more frequent, longer and intense than the time he spend with his true, legitimate son.
“General Mahaado has returned,” Otogi immediately said. Noa startled a little, his train of thoughts interrupted, and he scowled again.
“So soon?” He refrained from growling. Mahaado was one of the Generals he hadn’t been able to sway to his side. Unless the Pharaoh choose to do so, as Mahaado would follow the Pharaoh in whatever fate or decision he would take. It was infuriating. So much power at his fingertips, and he couldn’t grasp it. Instead, it seemed to slip through his fingers, just like everything else. His entire life. His entire life. Everything that made him Noa.
“I’m not sure why,” Otogi kept his eyes low as if still ashamed, “I didn’t talk to him personally, but he’s visiting the Pharaoh.” He hoped that Noa would let him go soon. Surely Noa knew about how much leeway the Generals were allowed, as long as their own decisions didn’t conflict directly with Gozaburo’s orders. Mahaado’s return implied that he was either done with all his work in the North or that he knew of an Item and was going to report it to Gozaburo himself. Otogi hopped from one foot to another. He had to tell Yuugi and the Resistance about all of this. It had been too long that he had spoken to them anyway.
“Interesting.” Noa rubbed his chin. Mahaado had been assigned to Northern Europe; why had he returned so fast? Did he return on his own or had his father commanded him to? Sometimes it was hard to keep track of all of them.
“As soon as my father finishes talking to him, send him to my quarters,” he said. Otogi paled. None of the Generals would acknowledge an order coming from anyone else but Gozaburo, not even from his very own son. Otogi swallowed. If Mahaado wouldn’t show up on Noa’s doorstep, he would more than probably pay for it..
“As you wish,” he said meekly, having no other choice, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Noa barked. Otogi stiffened. “I want to be updated on my father’s decisions. I want to have insight in his orders.”
“Gozaburo-daimyo will never allow me to do that,” Otogi stammered. Doesn’t he realize what he’s asking of me?
Noa’s grimace slowly turned into a grin. His father’s own method of having everything written down manually was going to be his downfall.
“It’s not that difficult, Otogi-kun. Did he ever tell you not to share his orders with others? His own son? You only have to open that clipboard and let me take a look. You’re not in any danger at all.”
Otogi took a step back. If Noa had intended to reassure him, he certainly had missed the point big time.
“You better do what I say,” Noa hissed, noticing the other’s hesitation. He lacked more than just his father’s strategical insight. “Otherwise you’ll soon find out that a fall from this height can’t be survived.”
“Yes, Noa-sama, yes,” Otogi bowed again and again, his stomach clenching and his heart pounding against his ribs. How could the man ever maneuver him in a position like this? Kaiba Noa was just like a child, his behavior strikingly like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Noa had been satisfied for so long doing whatever he did, why did he suddenly have so much interest in Gozaburo’s plans? Otogi knew a few things for sure: this was getting dangerous, and it wasn’t going to end well.
Shizuka moved around silently, almost sneaking like a thief. She knew the layout of the basement by heart, and she wanted to avoid waking people up with any brusque or noisy movements. She had kept one roll for herself from yesterday’s dinner and nibbling on the bread, she padded over to the kitchen, intent to make tea for her brother.
There was no one in the kitchen and she reached for the small fridge in the corner. It still amazed her how the Mutous had had the foresight to build this basement. The family had thought of everything; the fridge was running on a separate generator, so no food was spoiled when the energy suddenly was cut. This entire basement was a refuge and a sanctuary at the same time. Yuugi never made a problem of people staying here, friend or enemy… Shizuka didn’t know if her heart was as large or as forgiving as Yuugi’s, but she loved her friend the more for it.
Her excellent hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. Soft swishing sounds, rustling, heavy fabric…
“Good morning, Isis-san,” Shizuka said.
“Good morning, Shizuka.” The woman sounded surprised, though her voice was neutral, flat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’m not startled, I heard you coming,” Shizuka answered. She took a bottle out of the fridge and shook it a little to check how full it was.
“You have amazing hearing,” Isis said.
“That’s the first thing you learn when you don’t have any eyes to see,” Shizuka replied, and it sounded brusquer than she intended.
“It’s all about surviving, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, Isis-san?”
“What you do. What you all do here. Surviving, making it through the day to face yet another day of terror and despair.”
“There’s not only terror and despair, Isis-san. As long as there’s hope and joy left…”
“Hope? Joy? How can you feel hope and joy when the world is like this? When someone like me is around?”
“You didn’t make the world like this, Isis-san,” Shizuka said and took a glass from one of the cupboards. “It was Gozaburo who used you and the others.”
“It was my own choice,” Isis muttered. “I hoped to find my brother… you have a brother, Shizuka, you must know how I feel…”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without him,” Shizuka nodded. She bit her lip, tasting some of her hair - the large red strands framing her face, shifting with every movement. Making a mental note to find a ribbon or a piece of string to tie it together later, she turned towards Isis. “He means the world to me.”
“So does Malik,” Isis said. There was something … joyous in her voice, as always when she spoke about her brother. This was the first time though, Shizuka thought, that Isis referred to him with his first name. “He’s very important to this world. The Item he carries, the importance of the message he carries…”
“Message?”
Isis hesitated and stuttered. “I have… I have seen it in my vision,” was all that she said.
“Isis-san…”
“I am a General,” the woman spoke harshly. “I do not have a first name.”
“Isis-san, are you all right?”
“I do not have a first name,” she repeated and fell silent. It was uncomfortable, and Shizuka realized that she had such a tight grip on her glass that it could break any moment. She forced herself to put it away, and she struggled with it - as soon as the glass was on the counter top again, she released the breath she was holding.
“Good morning! Is tea ready?” Jounouchi was loud as usual, unaware of the tension. He went to Shizuka and completely glossed over her pale face, as he plucked the bottle of milk away from her.
“Mmm, milk!” he said and helped himself to a glass. One glass only, milk was for the little ones taking refuge at the basement. Yuugi, who had followed his friend into the kitchen, looked from Isis to Shizuka and back again. He was glad Shizuka couldn’t see his own red, slightly puffed eyes, and Isis… Isis was staring at nothing.
“Good morning Isis-san,” he greeted her. Visibly startled, Isis sketched a bow to him, using her hands to even fan out her robes, her knees almost touching the floor.
“Good morning, Pharaoh,” she said, her voice melodious. “Such a great day this is, Son of the Gods.”
Everyone in the kitchen stared dumbfounded at the woman, Yuugi’s cheeks turning red in embarrassment. Jounouchi almost dropped his glass, and Shizuka held her hand in front of her mouth.
“I-Isis-san? Are you all right?”
“I ask for permission to retreat to my quarters, Your Majesty,” she said. “The day has been tiring for me.”
“Tiring? It’s only ten in the morning!” Jounouchi exclaimed. Shizuka elbowed him.
“If you wish to do so, Isis-sa.. Isis,” Yuugi said and the woman smiled at him. She wasn’t wearing her veil, and her smile was warm and… touching. Confused, he stared at her retreating back as she left the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Jounouchi asked. Shizuka put her hand down and searching for comfort, she hooked her arm into her brother’s.
“I think Isis-san is a little confused,” Yuugi said, still staring after her. She turned around the corner and was out of sight. He heaved a sigh. On top of all the problems they already had…
“Onii-chan,” Shizuka piped up. “I hear the transmitter!”
“What? That can’t be! I turned it off yesterday!” Jounouchi protested, but stopped talking when Yuugi made a ‘silence’ motion with his hand. It took only a few seconds for them to hear the soft, but distinguishable beeping of the transmitter.
“Good hearing, Shizuka-chan,” Yuugi said, albeit a bit wryly, and he left the kitchen, followed by Jounouchi.
“I really turned it off yesterday,” Jounouchi stubbornly repeated, though he didn’t sound as convinced as before. They needed to be careful with energy, and conserve it wherever they could. The spare generator they had, wasn’t powerful enough to supply the entire underground basement. In the living room, Yuugi hit a few switches on the transmitter and loud, crackling static filled the air, and he turned the noise quickly down.
“Hello? Hello? Moshi moshi?”
“Yuugi-kun,” a voice came through, a little distorted.
“Otogi-san!” Shizuka had followed them and startled her brother with her enthusiastic cry. Yuugi had already recognized his friend’s voice, and smiled. Hopefully Otogi had good news..!
“Listen you all, I don’t have much time,” his voice crackled, “but after this message, don’t trust a broadcast from me anymore! I can’t go into details now, but things are getting difficult. The Pharaoh is here, as well as another General, Mahaado, and Gozaburo’s son is up to something too. They’re all entangled in their own plans, and I’m not sure what’s exactly going on, and whether I can find out… I’m sorry, but I can’t promise-”
“Otogi-kun? Otogi-kun!” Yuugi frantically turned at the knobs, a horrid feeling clenching his stomach. Had they lost the connection or was something else going on? What if… what if Otogi had been caught?
“Otogi-kun, please acknowledge! Otogi!”
“…I’m sorry, but it’s getting difficult...”
“Otogi-kun, get out of there,” Yuugi said, face frowned in worry. “We’ll think of a solution, we don’t want you to be in any danger. Otogi-kun?”
Only silence answered them. He turned at the knobs again.
“Otogi-kun? Answer me!”
“Oh... oh Gods…” Shizuka buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Jounouchi wrapped his arms around her, looking dejectedly at Yuugi. He might not like Otogi for personal reasons, but he still counted him as his friend – and he didn’t like his friends hurt or in trouble.
“It… it might be the connection,” Yuugi said, voice uncharacteristically low. “It was a bad connection.” His fingers left the knobs as only silence reigned; the line wasn’t even static anymore. Just perfect, terrifying silence.
Jounouchi held Shizuka in his arms as she started to cry. He really, really hoped that nothing had happened to Otogi, but the sudden, aborted transmission wasn’t a very hopeful sign. He looked at Yuugi who simply stared at the transmitter as if he could will another answer out of it. They remained silent, interrupted every now and then by one of Shizuka’s sobs.
Rusty shackles. Rusty shackles. If he wasn’t dying of thirst, he would have laughed out loud. Damn you, Gozaburo! He tilted his head a little, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. It was dark in his cell, and he wondered how long it had been since Noa had visited him. It had to be a few days. Two, three, tops. If he lost his grip on reality, on rationality, he was lost completely. The truth was: he really couldn’t remember how long it had been. Mokuba. I won’t let you down! Where are you?
He listened to the name of Kaiba Seto, but not for as long as he could remember. His name had been different, very different – he had always known that one day, one day when the opportunity would present itself and he would take it, his name would be known and spoken with great admiration and respect. Life had been hard for him and his younger brother, but sadly, his life wasn’t that much different from the many others – people, parents, young and old, who suffered from the tyranny, chaos and disorder that ruled the nation. It hadn’t been that long since he’d just been a streetrat, an orphan, scraping to get by. However, no one called him ‘Seto’, even if it was his rightful first name. Not even his younger brother Mokuba called him by his first name. He always used ‘nii-sama’, an honorific from a language mauled beyond recognition, just like the country itself.
Snorting, he shifted a little to find a more comfortable position. He ignored the pain in his lower backside. There wasn’t much room to move, and the shackles were chafing his skin. If he was left here to starve to death…he snorted again. Noa was only keeping him alive to torture him into giving him the codes to his files. The kid – even though Noa was officially older than him - would never be able to crack the codes himself, that was for sure. And as long as his father… no! Gozaburo was more intelligent than Noa, and had already started his research work on the virtual reality world Kaiba had created. Noa was too stupid to understand. He would never be able to create and develop a world like Kaiba had, the same world Gozaburo was building upon, shaping the existent world into a mirror image of the virtual world he deemed so much more perfect. Those blasted Generals were just a first step to assure him of his own, so-called perfect world, where Kaiba Gozaburo was the one and only authority.
The Generals. They were Gozaburo’s strength and weakness, especially the one they called the Pharaoh. Having three Gods at your disposal, such phenomenal powers at your fingertips…what Gozaburo had created, had come with certain perks. The big question was: how to control it? His grip on the Pharaoh was shaky at best, and as long as he had Marik and Bakura around, not known for their own stable personalities, his grip on the entire world was shaky at best. If the Pharaoh would ever turn against him and unleash a God upon KaibaCorp., then everything would go to hell.
Kaiba heaved a sigh. He was dying of thirst and hunger, and no one was coming down here anymore, not even Noa, to taunt him. Not even a servant. It could mean that they had cracked his codes after all, that they simply didn’t need him anymore… which left him to rot and die here, literally.
Life had been so grand for him, up until a few months ago. He had worked hard on his virtual reality project, supported by Gozaburo. Blind to his adoptive father’s ambitions, Kaiba had developed his project with the intention to use it for gaming worldwide…but Gozaburo’s war-mongering attitude had turned his wonderful project into this abomination of a new world he wanted to create. Gozaburo didn’t have the power to submit the world to his own will, but Kaiba’s virtual reality world had made it all possible. With his files and protocols, Gozaburo could create eternal life, downloading knowledge and technology into a world where he would rule forever. Immortality by virtual reality – and the real world was suffering for it, as soon as Gozaburo had created his Generals and send them out to subject the world to their incredible power.
Kaiba had only been able to encrypt and lock down his most important files before the Elite Troops came to get him. He had refused to work on his virtual reality world as long as it was used for war and tyranny. Gozaburo had foolishly thought that throwing him in a medieval dungeon like this would break his spirit. He laughed out loud. Hah! Break his spirit! The man had raised him with such strict military-like discipline that no dungeon could ever break him!
He worried more about Mokuba. His younger brother was with Noa, and Noa was a manipulator. Mokuba was young and susceptible… Kaiba wasn’t the one to pray, but if he had been able, he would fold his hands just for his brother, to pray to keep him safe. Mokuba believed in him with a fanaticism that far surpassed the Generals’ love for their Pharaoh, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. He had to break free, had to get rid of these shackles and find his way out of here. Mokuba. I won’t let you down.
Mahaado’s long, traditional robes swirled around his ankles when he entered Gozaburo’s quarters. With a firm pace, he walked towards the immensely large desk, looking at the elderly man who was studying some paperwork.
“Gozaburo-daimyo,” Mahaado said and bowed. It was a mere nod of his head, barely holding any respect. He only used the ‘daimyo’ suffix because he had picked it up from other people, and it was in his nature to be polite. He couldn’t help his voice from sounding flat and without any enthusiasm. Gozaburo was not his Pharaoh, and by default not the one he enjoyed taking orders from.
“Mahaado,” Gozaburo acknowledged his presence. It annoyed him that the General showed him this clinical, curt sentiment that had to pass for respect. It reminded him once again that the Generals were more loyal to the Pharaoh than to him, none other than Kaiba Gozaburo himself. “How is the situation in Northern Europe?”
“The Scandinavian countries are under your control,” Mahaado said. “I was participating in the last negotiation rounds with the Icelandic government when you called for my return.”
The man nodded. “Yes, excellent results. Exactly what I expected of you, Mahaado.”
The General looked a little quizzically, but let it slide. “May I ask for the reason, Gozaburo-daimyo? Iceland would have been a nice addition to your victory.”
“It can be done later.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You have been with the Pharaoh?”
“Is there something wrong with him?” Mahaado immediately straightened his back. He wasn’t able to keep the worry out of his voice; the Pharaoh had seemed in good health to him. Tired, but in good health nonetheless. Gozaburo refrained from gnashing with his teeth. Oh yes, the Generals listened to him – but how very frustrating was it, to know that they only did so because of their beloved Pharaoh being under his control?
Out of spite, he decided to rub salt in the wound. “As far as I know, no, there is nothing wrong with him. Marik and Bakura take very good care of him.”
It was only the smallest victory, to see the other wrinkle his nose in disgust. No one liked either Marik or Bakura, but he hadn’t created them to make any friends. As long as they took care of the Pharaoh and kept him exactly where he, Gozaburo, wanted him to be, their job was done.
“I have asked for your return because we have more urgent matters at hand, Mahaado,” he continued and stood up from his chair. “You know all about Isis defecting…”
“Isis…” Mahaado heaved a sigh. The Generals weren’t much in contact with each other, but they knew of their respective whereabouts and actions. He had been shocked to hear of Isis all but surrendering herself to the Resistance. It had left him sleepless for many nights, trying to grasp and understand the reasons behind her decision.
“She took the Tauk with her,” Gozaburo said. Mahaado widened his eyes. That was new to him. Not only did she defect, but she took one of the Items..? His hand went to his chest, searching for something that wasn’t there. It was a desire he couldn’t place, sometimes a faint feeling, sometimes a longing emotion that flared with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. He had been assigned the Sennen Ring, ages, centuries, millennia, eons ago… how long had it been? He couldn’t remember how or when he had lost the Item, but the longing and the desire was still there.
His movement didn’t escape Gozaburo, and the man showed a predatory grin. He knew exactly why Mahaado was doing this, precisely as his beloved Pharaoh.
“She needs to be brought back, along with her…the Item. This Resistance is a ridiculous thing, and needs to be eradicated. If we find Isis, we find the Resistance… and destroy them.”
“Gozaburo-daimyo,” Mahaado said, “Isis had her own reasons for doing what she did. She is a visionary, her dreams…”
“If her visions have predicted her siding with the Resistance, they have probably predicted her death as well,” Gozaburo snarled. “I rather avoid it, Mahaado, I do not like my Generals to die! But if I want to keep a grip onto this world, I need all of you safe and strong. How can I trust one who has turned her back on me?”
“Gozaburo-daimyo,” Mahaado repeated his title, “if only we had our Pharaoh’s Puzzle, you would never have to be afraid of losing your grip on anything anymore. The Item is very powerful, and it belongs to him.”
Gozaburo narrowed his eyes. “The Puzzle…” he said.
“It is the most powerful Item of them all,” Mahaado insisted. “If we could find it, you would never have to worry again.”
Gozaburo didn’t like what Mahaado was implying, and pounded with his fist on his desk.
“Until I have a new General, you are going to do the work of the rest of them! I want this world at my feet, completely, entirely! I want every traitor, General or not, eradicated! I want every person on Earth who as much as even thinks of rebelling against me, executed! And most of all, I want this Resistance destroyed!”
“As you wish,” Mahaado answered curtly. He wondered why Gozaburo had asked for his return when he obviously wasn’t the most ruthless one – if Gozaburo wanted the whole world enslaved, without mercy to anyone objecting, he should have called for Set or Shaadah. They were the ones following orders without any second guesses. Karim… no, Karim would never kill or sacrifice lives without a reason. He would always try to find another solution, to avoid any and all bloodshed. It wasn’t for nothing that both Mahaado and Karim barely made casualties when they were executing Gozaburo’s orders.
He bowed stiffly to the man, considering this conversation to be over. If he had been recalled to HeadQuarters to listen to insane orders about eradication and destruction, he needed to talk to his… the Pharaoh about this. His heart suddenly felt heavy, and sad. Why was the Pharaoh listening to Gozaburo anyway? He was a rightful and justified ruler, why was he taking orders from someone as tyrannical and a megalomaniac like Kaiba Gozaburo? Mahaado straightened himself again before turning around to leave. He was going to solve this mystery, and restore his… the Pharaoh to his former pride and position. Even if it would kill him.
“You’re not treating us fairly, pretty Pharaoh.”
Marik turned around in the bed and draped his arm over the Pharaoh’s back, shirking against him. Darting with his fingers over the Pharaoh’s spine, his other hand sunk into his hair. Both his hands and arms showed the marks of his recent beating for mouthing off Gozaburo; as usual, Marik didn’t wear any bandages. Instead, he moved slower and a little more careful, but not the same was to be said of his mouth.
“What do you mean?” The Pharaoh’s answer was smothered, as he rested with his face against the pillows.
“Ever since pretty magician-general is back, you spend little to no time with us.”
“His name is Mahaado,” the Pharaoh answered and batted Marik’s hand away, tsk-ing when a few strands were caught. “He is a good friend of mine, Marik, and I do not see him as often as I do you. Hence, whenever he is around, we spend quality time together.”
“The same quality time we do?” Bakura popped up from the other side of the bed, hair tousled.
“Is pretty Pharaoh together with pretty magician-general?” Marik asked and his pupil-less eyes focused on the Pharaoh wedged between them. The sheets barely covered his lower backside, courtesy of Bakura who was shifting the fabric around, unabashedly touching his exposed skin.
“I am not together with him,” the Pharaoh protested. “I am very glad to see him again. I wish all the Generals were here to stay.”
“All together, like a happy family,” Marik sighed melodramatically.
“Family?”
“You don’t have any family, Marik,” Bakura snorted, and traced circles with his fingers over the Pharaoh’s lower backside, eliciting a pleased sigh from him.
“Pretty Ishizu sister,” Marik said. The Pharaoh turned his head around, his eyes darkened.
“What? What did you say?”
“Pretty Ishizu sister,” Marik repeated, a little surprised by his own words. “It’s how I refer to her, pretty Pharaoh.”
“Why do you call her pretty?”
“I like it when you act all jealous,” Marik grinned. The Pharaoh growled and lashed out at him. Hand enveloped in a golden glow, he called upon the power of the Gods and he punched Marik, hitting him straight in the chest, knocking the wind out of the other’s lungs. As Marik was shoved forcefully out of the bed, Bakura immediately threw himself on the Pharaoh and wrestled him back into the sheets, fingers digging harshly into his skin.
“Bad! Bad Pharaoh!”
Marik wasn’t perturbed by the hit in the least, even if he was weezing. His lips turned into a diabolical grin, wider than ever, and he climbed back upon the bed, grabbing the Pharaoh by his hair and tugging his head back. Before he could say anything, Marik covered his lips with his own, kissing him fiercely.
The Pharaoh brought up his hand again, still using the power of the Gods, as long shadows hurried along the sheets and wrapped themselves around his wrist, blocking his attack. Grinning, Marik kissed him again, bruising his lips as he used his teeth to explore the Pharaoh’s mouth.
“She’s not as pretty as you,” Marik said when he broke up the kiss, “but she’s my sister.”
“She defected and left you alone,” Bakura hissed. “Why are you even calling that bitch your sister, when she clearly doesn’t deserve that title?”
“I… I don’t know,” Marik answered, looking confused.
“Moron.” Bakura leaned into him, using the Pharaoh for support and slapped Marik’s cheek harshly. “Wake up, you idiot! She didn’t care for you at all! Why are you spouting your love for her when she doesn’t answer any of it?”
“She’s always talking about me,” Marik yelled in return. He stared directly at Bakura, Pharaoh temporary forgotten. “The servants told me that she was always asking about her brother, and how she wanted to be reunited with him.”
“She had her chance to be reunited with her brother, with you, right here, right now!”
“B-but... but she has been busy…”
“Idiot,” Bakura growled again and shook his head, sending his bangs flying. He couldn’t believe that Marik would hold the words of mere servants for the truth. It didn’t make any sense – the Generals didn’t have any family. Besides, he and Marik were ‘created’, as Gozaburo never failed to mention that to them over and over again.
“Marik,” the Pharaoh finally said. He tugged at his hand restrained by the shadows, even if he wasn’t using his powers anymore. With a flick of Marik’s fingers, the shadows disappeared and the Pharaoh stomped Marik, though with less force as previously.
“Everyone longs for a family, that’s very natural and logical… but sometimes you get hurt by family, and Isis walked out on you..”
“Does pretty Pharaoh long for a family, then?”
Silence.
“I guess so,” he said, after another minute of silence. He turned his head, looking at Bakura who had simply resumed tracing circles over his body again, now that the sheets had shifted, revealing him completely.
“Family is overrated,” Bakura snorted. “I don’t need one.”
“Pretty Pharaoh and pretty thief are all the family I need,” Marik said firmly. He dove on top of the Pharaoh again, causing Bakura to almost fall off the bed, and he quickly groped around for something to hold on to. He latched himself onto the Pharaoh, who in turn grabbed Marik so he wasn’t pulled off the bed by Bakura.
“I like it when you’re so desperate,” Marik said, unabashedly holding the Pharaoh, his arm between his legs.
“I am not desperate, and I am not jealous,” the Pharaoh all but pouted. Bakura found his balance again and towered above the Pharaoh, looking down at his body.
“I think I have to make the both of you forget, about your silly sister and your silly magician,” he said.
“You’re not up to that,” Marik deadpanned. The other narrowed his eyes, long dark lashes brushing his skin.
“Wanna bet?”
“I’ll trade you gold for something to eat, man.”
Jounouchi shook his head. He put up his hands to show the other that he had nothing to trade. The man looked disappointed, and retreated back into the shadows of a narrow alley – Jounouchi could see a small hand clutching to his pants. Damn you, Gozaburo, damn you to hell twice over, he thought. What good was it to destroy the world you wanted to rule? It was almost like Gozaburo wanted to flatten the Earth, leaving no stone upon stone, chasing the very last human until he or she would give up and be defeated.
He was out on the streets because he was looking for something to give to Shizuka; his sister had clearly been upset by Otogi’s news. Not only the news that he told them, but the silence afterwards, when he had been cut off… Otogi had put his life at stake by working directly for the enemy and leaking news to the Resistance. If he had been caught, if Gozaburo had killed him… then he would kill the monster himself, and take revenge for his friend’s death.
Not many people were around at this hour; Jounouchi had already checked his regular ‘merchants’. Everyone and their mother had something to offer, had something to trade or to make a deal for. Without a stable economy, the black market was thriving well, very well. When surviving on the brink of extinction, you took whatever you could take, and bargained for the rest.
There was always a scrap of food somewhere, you just had to offer the right price or deal for it. Luxuries like toiletries, perfume or a good bar of soap, were harder to obtain. Jounouchi was sure he could find something for his sister. Maybe a nice, flowery scent would distract her… and that would leave him and Yuugi with another problem.
What if Otogi… had been incapacitated? They had lost their one and only connection, their only source of information from the enemy’s camp. It had taken Jounouchi and Otogi almost a year to convince Yuugi of sending him into the lion’s den – Yuugi acknowledged the necessity, but was hesitant because of the danger… and now, Otogi was probably dead, and… no! He didn’t want to think about it! He had to stay positive, optimistic, and not allow himself to buckle under the pressure. Annoyed with himself, Jounouchi kicked at a rock and muttered under his breath. He had to stay strong, for Yuugi, for Shizuka, for the Resistance, for Otogi… for himself.
After walking a few more blocks, Jounouchi finally found someone who was willing to trade a small basket with two bars of soap and a bottle of real shampoo – he tested it so he wasn’t sold just water with a little foam added to it - for a silver watch and some coins. Jounouchi’s father had been a collector before he drank himself to death. Jounouchi sometimes felt guilty that he wasn’t shaken by his father’s death; the man had failed to put up a fight and had succumbed to his addiction very quickly.
It was time to return home; in another thirteen minutes it would be curfew. After that, everyone on the street was fair game to Kaiba’s Elite Troops. Fuckers.
Back in the basement, he surprised Shizuka with his gift. She cried in his arms again, convinced that Otogi was really gone. He did his best to console her and emphasized that the interrupted transmission didn’t necessarily mean that something had happened to Otogi. He didn’t want to get her hopes up too much, however. If Otogi really had died…
“Jounouchi-kun? Ah, I’m sorry…”
He looked at the door, where Yuugi was standing. His friend wore a tentative smile and Jounouchi nodded. He pressed a kiss to Shizuka’s forehead.
“Why don’t you rest a little, sis? I have to talk some things over with Yuugi.”
“Is it about Otogi-kun?” she asked.
He looked at Yuugi, and he shook his head. Jounouchi wanted to groan when he heard Shizuka changing her honorific for Otogi from –‘san’ to –‘kun’.
“No, sis. Just get some rest, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
She finally nodded, but remained seated on the bed, her hands stroking the gift basket. He was sure she wasn’t going to rest anytime soon; he left her with the gift and made a mental note to check back on her as soon as possible. She was more upset about Otogi than he thought.
As they walked down the hallway, Jounouchi was about to say something to Yuugi when suddenly, the ground rumbled. Dirt and rubble fell down from the ceiling, the whole building shaking.
“Incoming!” Jounouchi roared. A few children and three adults who were in the same hallway, quickly grabbed their belongings and hurried towards the meeting room, where the largest table was. The next second, the world shook violently again, and Yuugi stumbled and fell to the ground.
“Yuugi! Are you all right?”
“We have to hurry,” was all that he said. “Come on!”
“Gozaburo,” Jounouchi hissed. That damned man and his even more damned Elite Troops! He didn’t know what kind of ammunition they used to cause these heavy shocks, these earthquakes, but it was astounding. Quickly, they fled into the meeting room and searched for shelter under the large table. He wasn’t surprised to see the adults, and even the children, fold themselves over Yuugi - the basic instinct to protect the leader. One woman was crying, pressing a newborn to her chest; the baby couldn’t be more than ten days old.
Another hit and the building shook again, the vibrations of the impact running through the basement. A chunk of concrete came down, crashing the table top. Grimacing, Jounouchi noticed he had folded himself over Yuugi as well. He couldn’t care less about his own life, but Yuugi had to survive; only he could keep the whole Resistance together.
“Assholes,” he kept cursing, “trash! Destroying, demolishing, that’s all they can do!”
“Enough, Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said, but he sounded rather… smothered, and there was no scolding tone to his voice. One of the kids was counting out loud, his shrill voice shaky, the woman with her baby tried to shush the crying child… and then it was over, fortunately. Yuugi wasn’t the only one to heave a sigh.
“Is it really over?” The kid who had been counting stared hopeful at the adults. Everyone nodded and relieved, climbed out from under the table. The kid yelled in triumph and dragged a little girl with him, probably his sister. He picked up a half-deflated ball and started tossing it to his sister.
“Kids,” Yuugi said, but he was glad to see them playing and yelling around. No casualties this time. “I will have to check the building later for the damage.”
Jounouchi ushered the rest of the people out of the room. “You’re not going outside right now, friend. If one of the Elite Troops catches you…”
“I know, I know.” Another sigh, and Yuugi picked up a chair that had tipped over. He patted at the seat, dusting off some rubble.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I didn’t want to upset Shizuka-chan,” Yuugi answered. “We have to talk about Otogi and a way to get him out. If his position has been compromised, we already might be too late.”
“What do you suggest?” Jounouchi could hear his own stomach rumble. If it were up to him, he would eat the whole day long. He pointedly ignored Isis, sweeping into the room as calm as ever, moving majestically around, plucking a cup of tea from the kitchen counter that had survived the quakes, be it with a little spill. She moved to her usual place in the corner, sitting carefully down on the rickety stool, arranging her long dress around her legs. It looked like the quakes hadn’t fazed her at all. She wasn’t wearing her veil, but kept her hair covered nonetheless and tugged at the fabric as if uncomfortable. Her hand holding the cup of tea trembled lightly.
“Isis-san, how have you been?” Yuugi asked politely, looking up from the city map.
“I have been well,” she answered, voice as neutral as ever. She looked a little unfocused, but if she was surprised by his question, she didn’t show it.
Jounouchi snorted from his side of the table, but didn’t comment either. Instead, he started doodling on the sidelines of the map on the table, pen scratching the paper. Yuugi went to the small kitchen counter and served himself some tea. He suppressed heaving a sigh. When would there be an end to all of this? He felt like he was running around in circles, without a solid, satisfying solution in sight. Jounouchi could preach about killing Gozaburo all that he wanted, the fact still remained that the man was unapproachable, and protected by his remaining Generals, one of which commanded several Gods. The Items… he didn’t know where to find them. They had searched all over town with chirurgical precision, but they hadn’t found one single thing. Even if they did manage to find the Items, there were still a few in Gozaburo’s possession, and their effect still wasn’t proven. He just assumed they would bring peace, but what if…
“Yuugi, are you listening? Hey! Hey man!”
“I’m sorry, Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said, his voice going up a few notches because he was startled by the other’s sudden screaming. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Don’t zone out on us, Yuugi,” Jounouchi muttered. He waved at him, and Yuugi left the kitchen to join him at the table.
“There aren’t that many quadrants left where we haven’t searched…”
“Jounouchi-kun, I asked Honda-kun to return.”
“But there’s still a possibility that… you did what?”
“I asked him and Anzu to return,” Yuugi repeated.
“Yuugi, they are the only ones in Southern Europe to give us information!”
“I don’t want them around a General,” Yuugi said stubbornly. “It’s dangerous enough as it is, and I don’t want to lose any more friends! I don’t want to lose anybody!”
“By withdrawing them you leave so much field uncovered,” Jounouchi complained. “How are we ever going to know what’s going on?”
“The fight is concentrating here,” Isis suddenly said.
“What?”
The woman didn’t look at them. “The fight… it is concentrating here. Domino City.”
“Isis-san…”
“You have been wondering about the Generals again, have you not?” She asked Yuugi.
“I’m almost always wondering about them,” Yuugi said. “Wondering about a way to defeat them.”
She nodded, her fingers curling around her tea cup. “You cannot defeat them just as easily as you think. You will need help.”
“Help you can give,” Jounouchi said, though he was warily. Isis had always refused to help them before, why would she suddenly start doing so now? Another nod, and this time she stared into her tea. Her face bore a sad expression.
“How many are there in town, besides the Pharaoh?”
“Otogi-kun told us that a General named Mahaado was at the KaibaCorp. HeadQuarters-”
Isis dropped her teacup and it clattered on the floor, shattering into a multitude of pieces.
Jounouchi and Yuugi exchanged looks with each other. Isis calmly crouched and started picking up the shards, movements nimble and careful as not to cut herself, but they could both see her hands visibly trembling.
“If you have Mahaado, you have the Pharaoh,” she said, her voice unnaturally harsh.
“And how do you suggest we’re going to ‘have’ Mahaado?” Jounouchi asked.
“I have a suggestion,” Isis answered and straightened herself again. Her movements were strained as she went into the kitchen, dumping the porcelain shards into a small trash bin. Her eyes appeared neutral, but Yuugi saw the deep sadness and grief she tried to hide. He wasn’t sure if it was the usual sadness she felt for her brother, or if this was sadness about something else… or someone else.
“The Pharaoh does not like me, and I do not like him,” she said, sticking out her chin. “He is very polite to me, and treats me with the honor and respect that is befitting his position, as do I. From the few times that we actually spoke… It suffices to say that he holds someone… something against me. That feeling is mutual.”
“So even the Generals fight amongst each other, huh?” Jounouchi doodled with his pen some more. Isis’ eyes tried to burn holes into his head.
“We do not fight. There might be some… tension, but we do not fight. Take it as you want to - we have something better to do than to fight.”
“Isis-san,” Yuugi gently nudged her back towards the original topic. “You said something about ‘having Mahaado means having the Pharaoh’?”
“Yes,” she said, a little distracted. “I was about to tell you… Mahaado is very loyal to the Pharaoh, and the Pharaoh holds him in very high regard. If you manage to get Mahaado, the Pharaoh will follow, undeniably.”
Not even Jounouchi escaped the venom in her voice when she spoke of the loyalty of the other General. Yuugi raised his eyebrows in surprise; Isis always kept her voice perfectly neutral, unless she talked about her brother, who seemed to be the only one able to evoke the most emotions in her.
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“Mahaado is a hekau, a magician,” Isis said. Her fingers stroked the fabric of her dress, slow, long caresses. “His signature spell is the Spellbinding Circle. Once caught in it, you can’t move, you can’t think, you can’t do anything but to wait for him to lift the spell. They say it is so strong that it could even contain a God.”
“A magician,” Jounouchi repeated, deadpan. “Like... someone who does card tricks and pulls bunnies out of his hat?”
“Don’t you dare mock his abilities!” Isis blazed, and Jounouchi almost fell off his chair. “I have seen myself how he caught dragons with it, and none of the creatures were able to attack! He could even uphold a Spellbinding Circle and have enough heka left to summon a monster! I have witnessed him wiping out enemies completely that way.”
“Dragons? Monsters?” Jounouchi made a rude gesture that suggested Isis having completely lost it. Yuugi quickly stood in front of him, so the woman wouldn’t see it, but her eyes were far from focused on anyone.
“I know how to break his heka,” she said, and her voice was soft, almost inaudible. She looked ashamed all of the sudden, and her soft caresses of her dress turned into a vicious grip on the fabric, tearing it. “I can tell you how to profit from a… weakness in his magic, but it is difficult, and you will get one chance only. If you have him, the Pharaoh will follow.”
She left the kitchen abruptly, and Jounouchi stared after her. Yuugi turned around to face him, mimicking his expression; a mixture of disbelief and confusion, with only the tiniest hint of hope for a new possibility, a new opportunity.
“Why would the Pharaoh come after that magician, then? She doesn’t convince me, and what if we manage to capture him, and the Pharaoh decides to stay up high and dry on his royal ass in the KaibaCorp. building?” Jounouchi scratched the back of his head.
“The Pharaoh would come after him because…” Yuugi’s voice trailed off. There was much more to this Mahaado than Isis had told him. Mahaado was close to the other General at a level of… he would come after him because he cared. It confused him, and he quickly sat down on a chair, ignoring Jounouchi’s quizzical look. This was the first glimpse, a very slight glimpse, of something human concerning the Pharaoh. If he really cared, if he really was going to risk anything to come after Mahaado… then he was more human than Yuugi thought.
“…because he doesn’t want to lose him.”
Gozaburo lifted up the bishop of his marble chess set and moved it forward.
“Another piece in place,” he said to no one in particular – Otogi was sure it wasn’t meant for him. The man folded his hands and supported his head; from this side, in the setting sunlight, he looked just like anyone else his age; elderly, a little wrinkled, grey, slick hair. Still, it would be a big mistake to think his grey hair and wrinkles equaled weakness; his eyes were fierce, determined, and wouldn’t stand for anything remotely soft or weak.
It had been hours since Mahaado had left Gozaburo’s quarters. Before entering himself, Otogi had given him the message that Noa wanted to speak to him. The General had frowned, but if it was in annoyance or in anxiety, Otogi couldn’t tell. It wasn’t his task to make sure the General really visited Noa, he was only the messenger, but he had no doubt he would be punished if Mahaado failed to show up. Gozaburo didn’t seem to be disturbed at all with his son asking for the General.
“I appreciate a good game of chess,” he spoke out loud, disturbing Otogi’s train of thoughts. “The strategy, the possibilities. The difficulty to anticipate and to adjust your strategy when pawns start to move… though I really should have foreseen this.”
“Excuse me, Gozaburo-daimyo?” Otogi asked. The man shrugged.
“Sooner or later, Noa was going to show some initiative. That he was going to… stir things up. I am not surprised that it took him so long, but then again, he always ran behind the facts... Heh, I am very sure he’s trying to gather support in a pathetic attempt to overthrow me. I should stimulate him more, though. May the best one win, I always say.”
Otogi showed his most neutral smile. He had quite the difficulty keeping his nerves in check – with Noa practically extorting him, maneuvering him into a precarious situation, he was extra aware of the risks he was taking. He was glad he reached the Resistance in time to warn them; that was all that mattered. Otogi still picked up bits and pieces of information, trying to use it to his advantage – and with Gozaburo exceptionally talkative like this, who knew how much that could work in his advantage? Apparently the man wasn’t upset at all at the thought of his own son plotting and scheming against him. Maybe Noa wasn’t as much of a threat as Otogi had feared to be.
“Dismissed,” Gozaburo barked and Otogi bowed to him, before leaving the room. His clipboard was heavy with the written orders, and he had to share them with Noa. Not that he picked out much… and what if Gozaburo fired him, or disposed of him… Otogi shivered. Keep your head cool, he told himself. You can make it. You can figure a way out of this. The door closed behind him with a soft swishing sound, and he immediately started running towards the elevator.
Gozaburo didn’t care for the setting sunlight as he was still gazing at the luxurious chess set. He had used the same set all his life, and only one had managed to beat him in the game. Seto. The scruffy street kid, challenging him to a game with his and his brother’s lives at stake. Their lives, their future. He had accepted the challenge on a whim, thinking that no kid could ever match him – and he knew he had been wrong the moment the kid had made his first move.
He touched the King, safely protected. The bishop wouldn’t pose any threat to him… yet. Noa. Seto. Both his sons. One so much more intelligent than the other, one so much more ruthless. His son by adoption, his son by birth. He should be proud, really, that Noa was finally showing some guts, some nerve, where the other had shown too much, and was suffering for it. It had taken Noa long enough… what was he going to try to do? Noa had never showed much interest in the research and development of the virtual reality world or anything involving computers, strategies… If Noa was going to try to manipulate everyone around him…
“I’m always a few steps ahead of you, son,” Gozaburo snarled and tipped the bishop over. He was giving the boy too much credit - Noa was nothing but a worthless pawn. He had proven himself to be jealous of Seto’s success, envious of his hard work, and unable to grasp what it took to be the head of a nation, an army, anything. Gozaburo folded his fingers together. Even worthless pawns could turn against him. He wasn’t going to ignore Noa. If it all boiled down to see who was going to be the best strategist, he wasn’t going to refrain from using his own son against himself.
Otogi had never been to Noa’s quarters before. Hesitantly, he left the elevator and took a few steps forward, taking in his surroundings. Noa preferred darker colors, judging from the oceanic blue on the walls, shifting into deep dark blue and pitch black close to the doors made out of solid oak wood. The brass handles weren’t polished, and slowly he reached for it, opening the door. He had to push hard, almost grunting from the weight of the door until it suddenly budged, and he tumbled into the room.
Just like the Pharaoh’s quarters, it disposed over an antechamber, but where the Pharaoh’s were decorated with sandy colors, plush carpets and two benches to sit on, Noa’s were empty, with simple vinyl on the floor, and with futuristic, dark paintings on the wall. He didn’t feel at ease here, and darted around restlessly, mind racing – until he saw something in the corner, rather brightly colored compared to the rest of the room. Otogi picked it up and stared at it. It was a marble. A plain marble with a fiery red core; confused, he rolled it between his fingers.
“Can I have it back, please?”
He startled, almost dropping it on the floor again. He hadn’t heard the other doors open; just at a crack though, and a curious eye peeked at him. A kid?
“Hey, but of course,” Otogi said and held out his hand, a little away from the door. It opened further, and faster than he could blink, the child grabbed the marble from his hand, retreating immediately into the room and closing the door again. His eyes widened. He hadn’t seen anyone that fast ever before. What was a child doing in Noa’s quarters? The curiosity was killing him, but he decided not to go into Noa’s room without his permission. He had to stay out of trouble.
Otogi didn’t have to wait for long, though – the door opened, again a crack only, and the child proved to be just as curious as he was.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Otogi Ryuuji,” he said. “What’s yours?”
The kid hesitated. Dark locks of hair, slightly mussed, fell over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. He looked pensive, and just when Otogi thought he was never going to answer, he said: “Kaiba Mokuba.”
Kaiba… Mokuba? He was baffled. Gozaburo had more than one son? Noa was the only one in this building as Gozaburo’s son… this couldn’t be!
“Hello Mokuba,” he said a little strained, trying to keep his surprise out of his voice. “You’re Noa-sama’s younger brother then?”
The kid’s eyes narrowed. “Nii-sama is my brother,” he barked, “him and him only!”
“I’m sorry,” Otogi said, voice friendly and suave. “I must have been mistaken. Where is your nii-sama, Mokuba?”
“Downstairs,” Mokuba answered, sullenly. He brought up his hand and rummaged around, sticking it into his shirt, and pulled out something on a chain.
Otogi narrowed his eyes. It looked like a pendant… Mokuba opened it and carefully showed it through the opening. Otogi took a step forward and crouched down so he wouldn’t scare him away. This kid, this child, was going to be his new opportunity.
“Downstairs, huh?” He said and looked at the pendant. It showed two pictures – one of a cheerfully Mokuba, looking up at the camera, and one of a slightly older kid, looking far more serious and stern than his brother.
“Seto,” Mokuba said.
“Hm?”
“Seto,” Mokuba repeated. “His name is Kaiba Seto.”
“I don’t think I have ever heard of him,” Otogi said, filing the information away. “He’s your brother, right? What’s he doing downstairs?”
“Gozaburo,” was the only thing the kid said, spitting it out with such venom that Otogi’s eyes widened. They were carrying all the same surname, but there weren’t any bloodties between them - that much was for sure. “Gozaburo locked him up, downstairs.”
“What for?” Otogi knew he had to be careful, but he couldn’t hold himself back. This was intriguing, and this information was very valuable to the Resistance - if only he could think of a way to get it to them…
“Otogi, why aren’t you waiting outside?” Noa’s voice was harsh, and totally unexpected. He almost jumped up, dropping the clipboard. He bowed extensively, knees hitting the floor.
“My apologies, Noa-sama! I didn’t think, I simply assumed that waiting inside was all right…”
“Mokuba, why don’t you go into the living room,” Noa spoke, his voice soothing. “I’ll join you soon to play some videogames, all right?”
“All right,” he said, but there wasn’t real enthusiasm to his voice. The door closed again. Otogi knelt in front of Noa, and he didn’t have to fake his shivering - he was really afraid that Noa was going to kill him. He was very sure he had seen something that he shouldn’t have seen.
“Get up and hand me the orders,” Noa barked. “Don’t ever wait for me inside my own rooms again. You will wait outside, or I’ll have you punished!”
“Yes, Noa-sama,” Otogi bowed again, even in his kneeling position, and hoped that Noa would take his groveling serious. He got up and handed the black clipboard to him, and the other started digging wildly through the papers, his facial expression changing rapidly from annoyed to ecstatic, to annoyed and even angered again.
“If that old man can think he…” Noa growled. Otogi expected him to start stamping with his foot, but he was handed the clipboard again.
“Get the hell out of here, and you’ll report back to me tomorrow. Outside.”
“Yes Noa-sama, as you wish, Noa-sama,” Otogi bowed anew, hearing a crick in his back. He didn’t stick around to await more of Noa’s orders, and made sure to leave as quickly as possible. Sweat was dripping down his back. He was saved for now, but for how long?
Chapter 2 | Chapter 4