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Every Truth A Lie	By : Marajohuiki Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 1294 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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Mokuba was alone with his brother. Honda had protested mightily, but with two Kaibas arrayed against him, he really didn�t have much of a chance. Mokuba had a feeling the biker was loitering just outside the closed door, only giving the illusion of privacy. That was fine; illusion was all he really needed.

Kaiba�s stern visage hadn�t eased at all, even after they�d chased Honda out. He hadn�t spoken either, and he still clung to the Rod as if it had become an unconscious extension of him. Mokuba eyed it with a distaste he couldn�t quite explain. There was just something about the thing�it radiated unrest.

�It�s an element of chaos.�

His eyes snapped up. Seto seemed just as disinterested now as he had before, but at least he was talking. That counted for something, didn�t it?

�What?� Yes, incredibly quick and witty reply, Mokuba. Nice job, he told himself. Brilliant maneuvering.

Kaiba lifted the Rod, balancing it across open palms. �It�s the leader of the chaos, actually.�

While his brother wasn�t making any more sense, he was sounding much more like himself, so Mokuba let it slide. The slightly impatient tone hovering on the edge of Seto�s words was comforting. Entirely familiar if not entirely welcome, since it usually implied Seto would be spending a majority of time away for a while.

�There used to be a ruling order with these things.� Kaiba flipped the Rod over, pulling the knife in it out as he did so. He seemed so absorbed in his own world. Vaguely Mokuba wondered if that was quite healthy. �Puzzle. Eye. Rod.� Each was its own sentence, cut brief and short, accorded the honor of its name and nothing more.

He sounds like he�s reciting a list. Puzzle, Rod� Why the Millennium Items?

�Scales. Tauk. Ring. Key.� Kaiba made a face. �The weaklings of the Items.�

When did he become so involved with the Items? Mokuba had to wonder. I know he had some research project going on before he left, but was this what he was investigating? That�s not like him.

�Nii-sama?� Mokuba was hesitant to interrupt his brother�s dialogue, partly wondering if Seto would even hear him. But I have questions, he decided firmly.

Sharp blue eyes flicked to his face. He seemed almost to be waiting. Mokuba accepted the silence as his cue and opened his mouth.

�Nii-sama, why did you leave me?� He cursed the trembling words, weak in their inability to stand firm. It was a question he had to ask, had to know the answer to, but there should have been a better way to ask.

�I never left,� his brother finally answered, voice heavy in the silence. �I was called.�

Called? What does that mean? Mokuba made to ask, but Seto was already speaking again, so he held his peace, figuring it would be explained some way.

He spoke as if someone else directed his tongue. Not clumsy because no Kaiba was ever clumsy with words, but forced, stilted. Not-Seto. Focusing in on the pattern the words made was difficult; following the circular logic employed was nigh impossible. Not so soon.

But his brother�s voice grew firmer, less marrionetted, and Mokuba finally could listen to the content of the repeating message instead of the tone with which it was delivered.

��image, a rivalry lasting just under three millennia. It bears a grudge � an ugly thing to carry and a detriment at the best of times, but its will is strong. All we need is followers. All we need is the power to overthrow Yuugi�s goddamned Puzzle and it�ll be satisfied. It won�t take no for an answer; it�s as much a part of my bloodline as you. �

Linked sentences, that was all. Words, connected, dragged out into some long thin rope.

�Nii-sama�Seto, you�re not making any sense.�

Blue eyes�Blue and gold eyes. �How isn�t he making sense? Or are you too much of a child to understand?�

Mokuba flinched like he�d been slapped. Neither one of them had ever been children. Childish, young, perhaps, yes, but never children. Never had a childhood. Seto understood that, even if no one else did. They had never been children.

�I�m not a child,� he growled softly, hands balled into fists at his sides. With anyone else, he would have used harsher words, made them regret the accusation of child, but he could hardly do that to Seto. Even if his brother knew how much that word hurt. Hurt them both.

�You are a child,� Kaiba hissed, blue-gold eyes narrowed. �You are young. You are small. You are powerless. You are a child.�

Mokuba glared. �We were never children!� he screamed. His hands flew to his mouth, covering the gape of surprise that he had dared to yell such a thing at his own Nii-sama.

Kaiba began to laugh. Ugly laughter, unsuited to the lovely eyes. �Children throw tantrums. children scream at their betters. Luckily for you, children aren�t often punished for acting childish. Because we - �

Gold flickered back to blue. �- were never children.� A tired, ragged voice, unmistakable as Seto�s. �It does that sometimes�.� He was glaring at the Rod, running long fingers over its surface. �But it told me where you were, helped me find you. Helped me call you.�

Mokuba moved closer to where Seto was sitting on the floor. �Nii-sama, I don�t understand.�

Kaiba nodded absently and set the Rod down by his side. Except�his hand was still resting on top of it, still in contact with the thing. Mokuba didn�t know why that distressed him so much, only knew it did. Jealous of a piece of metal? Impossible, wasn�t it? That would be�

Childish, a voice inside his head whispered. Childish.

�Mokuba, there isn�t much to understand. I can tell you the story, tell you what I know, but it all sounds mad. In this case, understanding is overrated. Intuition prevails.�

�I don�t care if it�s mad,� Mokuba murmured, leaning against his brother so warmth seeped between them. �I just want to know.�

His borther offered a short, sharp nod. �Then it goes like this, from what I know��

XXXXX

Mist hangs in the air, disguising the stones. It�s warm out.

--Seto.--

I turn, answering his voice with silence.

--Cousin, speak to me.

Cousin, am I? Then treat me like one. I look away, turn my back on him again, return to staring at the stones, shrouded in their mist.

--Seto� -- His hands are warm on my shoulders. I break away from them.

Don�t touch me. Please don�t.

--I had to say goodbye. Don�t make this harder. -- Hands again on my shoulders, like two brands.

I want to snarl at him, drive him away. Tucked into my belt, my Item senses my unease. It flickers into wary life. Hush, I tell it. The sense of hunger and rage fades slowly.

--I can�t stop leaving,-- he says, wrapping both arms around me. His whole body is warm. Or maybe it�s just that I�m cold � so cold.

Don�t touch me. Go play your games on Mahaado. Talk to someone who will believe you.

He won�t leave me alone though, keeps touching. Repeatedly I shad him off, but he always returns, needing the contact. He keeps returning with my name on his lips and a plea for understanding. He needen�t beg me to understand; I do already.

With his own perverted sense of righteousness, our Pharaoh won�t be here much longer. Who does that leave to bear the burdens? Me, of course.

He is speaking madness. --Seto, hear me out.--

I will never interrupt; that�s not quite what he means though, and we both know it.

--I�m leaving instruction. The Puzzle won�t go with me. I�m giving it to you.--

What?

His arms tighten around me. His mouth is near my ear. I would shake him off again if I could move. Shock has frozen me. There has only ever been one Item to a wielder. They are jealous bits of blood and gold.

At the mention of the gifting, the Rod wakens, growling in discontent.

Hush.

Dull anger still pulses, but it withdraws from my consciousness. I need to think. Puzzle this riddle out.

--I have to leave it to you,-- he whispers into my ear. His breath tickles the shell and his hands are splayed across my chest possessively.

Take it to Mahaado. I want nothing to do with the Puzzle or you.

--Cousin, do not do my spirit the disservice of refusing to accept my deathbed gift.-- His voice is light and teasing, his meaning less so.

The temptation to deny him is still there, but guilt overwhelms it. I nod once, as much a jerk to rid my mind of the taint from his words as to acquiesce. He takes my acceptance as more than it is. I shake him off a final time and leave.

Discontent enters my mind as I wander the hallways. The Rod is not pleased with my decision. It is jealous, always jealous. Only another Item holder could understand the jealousy, be able to cope with it. This piece of metal is my sole confident. I will not discuss anything with the others.

There are only two true pairs among us. Isis and Karim are close � too close. But it�s all right. Their Items are akin in strength. But he has chosen the loyal dog � Mahaado. And on occasion, attempts to dabble in my affairs as well.

Hush. The Rod feeds off my own discontent and returns the emotion. It is clouding my mind. Let me think. Sullen now, it retreats, the static in my mind vanishing with it. With silence comes clarity. I cannot refuse now that I have accepted, but I need not use the Puzzle as my Item.

I will not discard the Rod.

A swell of satisfaction meets my thoughts. It is pleased with my decision, pleased at the chance to be favored above its brother-in-blood. They are all siblings, these Items, and fight as children amongst themselves.

With his passing, will the order be thrown into chaos? The only ones strong enough to control the Rod are the Puzzle and Eye, both of which will be lacking in rightful bearers soon enough.

Fierce joy spreads from the scepter. This time I do not attempt to quell its reaction. Inwardly I know I also share that fierce joy at finally being able to prove myself superior to my cousin.

His utter perfection chafes. I look forward to replacing him.

Again the Rod echoes my emotion, strengthening and reflecting it. I go to look for him, one last time. The ceremony is tonight.

XXXXX

He ascends in silence. The six of us provide his honor guard. His stride is calm and collected. He is shaking as he passes me. I do not smile as he goes by. To my right stands Isis. Tears line her eyes, but the worst is Mahaado, openly weeping. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. I wonder if he is pretending to clutch at bed sheets in his distress.

The Puzzle hangs proudly around his neck as he continues up the stair. He turns at the top and bows to the six of us.

Only five bow back. I step away from the group and follow in his footsteps, pausing a stair below. The others are confused � I can feel it. He must not have told them what he intends to do.

The rod bristles as I approach him. Whether it is excited or feeling aggressive I am not sure.

I bow my head bofore him and there is a collective gasp as he removes the Puzzle and places it around my neck. Immediately I feel the jealous rivalry of the two. With an effort of will, I force their silence.

His hand lingers too long on my shoulder. One last time I brush him away. His eyes are violet for the first time I�ve seen him. No scarlet backdrop. He is bared for the first and last time.

--Goodbye, Seto.-- He whispers my name a touch too softly, a shad too sad.

Goodbye to you too.

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Every Truth A Lie