[fic][YGO] Still Here, Prologue
This is the start of a collaboration between tawnykit and myself.
Japanese names and name-order are used throughout this story.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh does not belong to either of us. It is the property of Kazuki Takahashi. Neither of the two of us who are writing this story are making a profit off of this work of fiction. Still Here
Prologue
By Ryo Hoshi and Tawnykit
Kaiba Seto's bathroom was the sort he knew most people would expect him to have: large, fancy, and old-fashioned...and, which would be to their surprise, not at all to his tastes. He would have preferred a small one, a nice modern tile and chrome. Seto had even, just after the mansion had become his, considered remodeling. Now, around five years later, when he felt ill in the morning, he wondered if he should have anyway.
He felt especially bad that morning -- sort of like he had when he'd had to unexpectedly stay late at the office a couple years earlier and had missed a dose of his pain medication. Seto mentally noted that it was time to make an appointment with his doctor.
It took more effort than usual to open his pillbox, and he found himself embarrassingly grateful that the pharmacy didn't use child-safe bottles. He felt slow, like he wasn't quite awake. His sight was blurry, his fingers felt gloved, and it was hard to clearly see all the pills he needed to have for the day. At least nothing hurt, which was odd; normally when he was this bad, his body was in agony.
He missed the early days, when the number of medications had been less.
Distractedly, he wondered why he was feeling more disconnected as time passed. Usually he felt less disoriented, not more.
When he got the last pill into the pillbox and snapped it shut, he glanced up at the clock.
It'd taken so long, he realized, and the world finished dimming.
Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulcher?
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolored...
Mokuba turned the page of his book, his head bent so far over it that the page brushed the tip of his nose. While Romeo and Juliet was not his reading material of choice, his English class had assigned the play, and, almost finished, he was loathe to put it down. His eyes narrowed over an unfamiliar word, and he flipped open a Japanese-to-English dictionary to look it up.
He turned another page, managing to direct a spoonful of cereal into his mouth without spilling it on the book, and shook his head at the irony. Time was a fickle thing; if Juliet had awoken half a minute earlier, the tale might have had a happy ending.
Speaking of time... He glanced at his watch, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw where the hands pointed. Seto was... late. Seto hated tardiness; he was never late.
The boy’s stomach clenched anxiously. Had something happened? Biting his lip, Mokuba closed his book and set it aside. His chair scraped against the hardwood floor as he stood, glancing nervously at the kitchen entrance. It was probably nothing. He was probably overreacting; Seto wasn’t that late, only a few minutes. Still, the young teenager decided, he should check, just to be sure. He left the kitchen, leaving cereal and book abandoned on the table.
The halls of the Kaiba manor seemed unnaturally grave and quiet. The sun seemed to be playing hide-and-go-seek with the clouds in the sky; one moment it shown brightly through the large windows, and the next it flickered out of sight. The end result made Mokuba feel almost as if he were walking through a haunted mansion in a bad horror flick. He swallowed, his stomach clenching again.
He hesitated outside of his brother’s bedroom, then swallowed and knocked on the door. “Nii-sama?” he called in a small voice. “Nii-sama, are you there?”
There was no answer.
Steeling himself, he placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door. Poking his head in, he immediately noticed two things: Seto was not in the bedroom, and the door to his brother’s bathroom was slightly ajar.
Taking slow, forced steps, dreading what he might find, Mokuba walked to the bathroom and pushed the door further open. “Nii-”
He froze, his words dying as his breath caught in his throat. His blood ran cold as his eyes took in the sight before him.
Seto lay sprawled on the tiled floor, the filled pillbox still lightly clutched in one hand. His face was pale, and though Mokuba could see his chest rising and falling, reassuring the boy that the CEO was still alive, it was much too slow, and not at all as regular as it should have been.
Everything passed in a blur after that. He remembered screaming something, what he couldn’t recall, and found himself at the fallen businessman’s side. Someone called an ambulance -- he couldn’t remember if he had done it or if one of the staff had heard his shouting. There were flashing lights and loud sirens, voices yelling too many things to take in all at once, and a ride to the hospital that took much too long.
He remembered only one thing very clearly. A stony-faced, white-coated doctor had spoken to him, his voice grave. “I’m... sorry, Kaiba-kun. There’s nothing we can do. We can make him comfortable...”
Mokuba had closed his eyes, swallowed, and tried to make one of the hardest decisions of his life. “N-no.” To the doctor’s incredulous look, he had explained, “Nii-sama... He wouldn’t want to... to die with chemicals and tubes in him. He’d hate it. We havta-” He corrected his grammar as a lead weight settled into his stomach. He was the only Kaiba now; he couldn’t afford to talk like a child anymore. “We need to do what Nii-sama would want.”
Now, he sat in a hospital room, alone but for the still figure in the bed beside him. He held one of his brother’s hands in his own, rubbing it gently as Seto would have done for him.
The room was too quiet, but Mokuba couldn’t think of anything to say. “Good-bye” was too hard, too final. Anything else was irrelevant. Finally, remembering a promise made long ago, he whispered, “Nii-sama... You don’t have to hang on for me. I’ll... I’ll be okay. You go on, Nii-sama, you go on so it doesn’t hurt you anymore...” He trailed off, choking on his tears.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, hunched over the shell of the once-proud dragon. His shoulders were racked with sobs and tears trailed like rivers down his cheeks. He shouldn’t cry, he knew. He shouldn’t be sad -- Nii-sama wasn’t in pain anymore, Nii-sama wouldn’t have to fight anymore, he wouldn’t have to pretend...
But the tears kept flowing, and Mokuba didn’t have the strength to make them stop. Comments are welcome.
Japanese names and name-order are used throughout this story.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh does not belong to either of us. It is the property of Kazuki Takahashi. Neither of the two of us who are writing this story are making a profit off of this work of fiction. Still Here
Prologue
By Ryo Hoshi and Tawnykit
Kaiba Seto's bathroom was the sort he knew most people would expect him to have: large, fancy, and old-fashioned...and, which would be to their surprise, not at all to his tastes. He would have preferred a small one, a nice modern tile and chrome. Seto had even, just after the mansion had become his, considered remodeling. Now, around five years later, when he felt ill in the morning, he wondered if he should have anyway.
He felt especially bad that morning -- sort of like he had when he'd had to unexpectedly stay late at the office a couple years earlier and had missed a dose of his pain medication. Seto mentally noted that it was time to make an appointment with his doctor.
It took more effort than usual to open his pillbox, and he found himself embarrassingly grateful that the pharmacy didn't use child-safe bottles. He felt slow, like he wasn't quite awake. His sight was blurry, his fingers felt gloved, and it was hard to clearly see all the pills he needed to have for the day. At least nothing hurt, which was odd; normally when he was this bad, his body was in agony.
He missed the early days, when the number of medications had been less.
Distractedly, he wondered why he was feeling more disconnected as time passed. Usually he felt less disoriented, not more.
When he got the last pill into the pillbox and snapped it shut, he glanced up at the clock.
It'd taken so long, he realized, and the world finished dimming.
Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulcher?
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolored...
Mokuba turned the page of his book, his head bent so far over it that the page brushed the tip of his nose. While Romeo and Juliet was not his reading material of choice, his English class had assigned the play, and, almost finished, he was loathe to put it down. His eyes narrowed over an unfamiliar word, and he flipped open a Japanese-to-English dictionary to look it up.
He turned another page, managing to direct a spoonful of cereal into his mouth without spilling it on the book, and shook his head at the irony. Time was a fickle thing; if Juliet had awoken half a minute earlier, the tale might have had a happy ending.
Speaking of time... He glanced at his watch, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw where the hands pointed. Seto was... late. Seto hated tardiness; he was never late.
The boy’s stomach clenched anxiously. Had something happened? Biting his lip, Mokuba closed his book and set it aside. His chair scraped against the hardwood floor as he stood, glancing nervously at the kitchen entrance. It was probably nothing. He was probably overreacting; Seto wasn’t that late, only a few minutes. Still, the young teenager decided, he should check, just to be sure. He left the kitchen, leaving cereal and book abandoned on the table.
The halls of the Kaiba manor seemed unnaturally grave and quiet. The sun seemed to be playing hide-and-go-seek with the clouds in the sky; one moment it shown brightly through the large windows, and the next it flickered out of sight. The end result made Mokuba feel almost as if he were walking through a haunted mansion in a bad horror flick. He swallowed, his stomach clenching again.
He hesitated outside of his brother’s bedroom, then swallowed and knocked on the door. “Nii-sama?” he called in a small voice. “Nii-sama, are you there?”
There was no answer.
Steeling himself, he placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door. Poking his head in, he immediately noticed two things: Seto was not in the bedroom, and the door to his brother’s bathroom was slightly ajar.
Taking slow, forced steps, dreading what he might find, Mokuba walked to the bathroom and pushed the door further open. “Nii-”
He froze, his words dying as his breath caught in his throat. His blood ran cold as his eyes took in the sight before him.
Seto lay sprawled on the tiled floor, the filled pillbox still lightly clutched in one hand. His face was pale, and though Mokuba could see his chest rising and falling, reassuring the boy that the CEO was still alive, it was much too slow, and not at all as regular as it should have been.
Everything passed in a blur after that. He remembered screaming something, what he couldn’t recall, and found himself at the fallen businessman’s side. Someone called an ambulance -- he couldn’t remember if he had done it or if one of the staff had heard his shouting. There were flashing lights and loud sirens, voices yelling too many things to take in all at once, and a ride to the hospital that took much too long.
He remembered only one thing very clearly. A stony-faced, white-coated doctor had spoken to him, his voice grave. “I’m... sorry, Kaiba-kun. There’s nothing we can do. We can make him comfortable...”
Mokuba had closed his eyes, swallowed, and tried to make one of the hardest decisions of his life. “N-no.” To the doctor’s incredulous look, he had explained, “Nii-sama... He wouldn’t want to... to die with chemicals and tubes in him. He’d hate it. We havta-” He corrected his grammar as a lead weight settled into his stomach. He was the only Kaiba now; he couldn’t afford to talk like a child anymore. “We need to do what Nii-sama would want.”
Now, he sat in a hospital room, alone but for the still figure in the bed beside him. He held one of his brother’s hands in his own, rubbing it gently as Seto would have done for him.
The room was too quiet, but Mokuba couldn’t think of anything to say. “Good-bye” was too hard, too final. Anything else was irrelevant. Finally, remembering a promise made long ago, he whispered, “Nii-sama... You don’t have to hang on for me. I’ll... I’ll be okay. You go on, Nii-sama, you go on so it doesn’t hurt you anymore...” He trailed off, choking on his tears.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, hunched over the shell of the once-proud dragon. His shoulders were racked with sobs and tears trailed like rivers down his cheeks. He shouldn’t cry, he knew. He shouldn’t be sad -- Nii-sama wasn’t in pain anymore, Nii-sama wouldn’t have to fight anymore, he wouldn’t have to pretend...
But the tears kept flowing, and Mokuba didn’t have the strength to make them stop. Comments are welcome.