Chapter 1: Goodbyes
Chapter Text
If Maximillion Pegasus had known that it had truly been goodbye, he would’ve clung tighter. He would’ve pleaded for a few more minutes, insisted on a few more kisses, and he would’ve begged for duty, destiny, and all that those stupid, abstract things to be abandoned.
Screw the world, screw fate; he just wanted to be happy. Hell, maybe he didn’t deserve it - maybe perfectly happy endings were reserved for more perfect people.
But damn it, he wanted one, so, so terribly.
But he couldn’t make demands for such things. He couldn’t even for ask them with a ‘pretty please’. He couldn’t put himself on a pedestal above the entire known world, because at the end of the day, he was just one of the many unlucky people living on it.
The world needed saving. He needed saving. He knew that. They both knew that.
So, in the end he let go with a smile his heart didn’t feel and made a hollow offer of all the luck in the world. In the end, he didn’t scream, beg, or cry, or do any of the pathetic, childish things he desperately wanted to do in a fruitless attempt to change the course of fate.
All he could do was pray that the world would show them both enough mercy to not make that last kiss a permeant goodbye.
If only he’d known.
~
Maximillion Pegasus couldn’t sleep. This was nothing new. Troubling dreams, late nights, and even later mornings were not new. The grief was not new. The world hadn’t ended, and he kept trying to convince himself that it shouldn’t feel like his had.
But the days were quieter, and the nights seemed longer. He’d grown so used to wearing the color black. Widowed twice before the age of twenty-seven – he’d worn far too much black for a single lifetime.
Funny Bunny cut to commercial, and it took about twenty seconds of a Zoo-Pals commercial to play before he even realized it. His eye was glossy and his soul was tired, but not tired enough to sit through two and half more minutes of advertisements. He fumbled for the remote beside him. Instead of grabbing it, his fingers found his cell phone. He’d dropped it there. His hand had just gone numb. His mind had just gone numb.
The conversation had occurred just an hour ago and every word of it still bounced around in his head, still waiting to be accepted and processed.
“Hey, um, Pegasus. I just – I thought you should know that I won the ceremonial Duel between me and the Pharaoh.”
Yugi’s voice had sounded scratchy over the thousands of miles between northern California and Egypt.
“Yami, I mean, Atem, he… He went on,” Yugi had said, “He’s gone. And the Millennium Items are gone, now, too.”
“Oh,” Pegasus hadn’t been sure what to say, “Well, congratulations on your victory, Yugi-boy. I know that saying goodbye couldn’t have been easy. It never is. But I’m sure Atem will enjoy the afterlife. As long as he can duel, I’m sure he’ll be very content.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I hope so,” Yugi had paused for a few moments, and just as Pegasus was sure they’d lost connection, he’d continued, “There’s – there’s just one other thing I wanted you to know.”
Pegasus had blinked, and focused his eye on his own reflection in the glass of the veranda door instead of the moon outside.
“What is it?” He’d asked.
“When the Millennium Stone cracked, and the items fell away, I… I saw Shadi.”
Pegasus’s heart skipped a beat, “What?”
“His spirit rose up out from the Stone and sort of just… Faded. I think – I think he was finally freed.”
Pegasus tried and failed to form a coherent reply. He watched his reflection blink tears out of his eye.
“I see,” He’d finally managed.
“I just… Wanted you to know.”
Pegasus rubbed his fingers into his eye, as if that could shove the tears back into place.
“No, I appreciate it, Yugi-boy. I truly do,” Pegasus took a deep breath, and finished the call in the best approximation of his usual carefree tone he could muster, “Tell all your friends I said hi! We’ll chat later, bye!”
He’d made it to his bed. The phone had slipped out of his hand. And he’d failed to fall asleep.
Shadi had initially been ripped away from him by the cruel hands of fate just a few months ago. Perhaps that was a harsh a way to put it, but that was how it felt to Pegasus. Shadi had been waiting to serve out his purpose for over three thousand years. He’d somehow known exactly when little Yugi Motou and the Pharoah had chosen to play their shadow game with the forces of evil. He’d just looked up and told Pegasus that it was time for him to go.
Shadi had accepted his duty with little more than a nod and a deep breath.
They’d prepared for it, in their own way. They both new the day would come. But still, nothing could’ve prepared Pegasus for their parting. He’d been afforded no guarantees. He’d been given reassurances, of course, but each one was delivered and accepted with the somber knowledge that the assurances were not guarantees.
He’d been given a kiss – a delicate, tender kiss that didn’t last nearly as long as he’d needed it to – and his lover was gone.
Yugi, Joey, Téa, Tristan, and even that weird little Ryou with the Ring had come back that shadow game, but Shadi hadn’t been as lucky. Shadi had sacrificed himself to save the Pharoah – thrown himself in front of the Pharoah to shield him from some terrible manifestation of all evil. When the dust had settled, and the game had ended, the Millennium Key and Scales had just been laying on the floor next to the victors – as if they’d just been dropped. Yugi had tried to explain the game more – he’d tried to make it all make sense – but Pegasus couldn’t absorb anything more than the fact that the man he loved was never going to come home to him.
Pegasus focused his eye on the ceiling, and blinked away the tears that were clinging to his lashes.
Yugi had delivered that news months ago. Shadi must’ve asked him to deliver it in the event of his death, at some point in the game, and little Yugi, with his heart of gold, had agreed, despite the turmoil both Shadi and Pegasus had put him through.
For some reason, this news was no easier to accept. He should’ve felt relief to know that Shadi’s soul was now really and truly free, yet, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d lost the man twice.
The following day, he pulled himself to his office, and tried to convince himself to focus on something. Anything. Of course, he couldn’t. Looking through new card designs was a chore, reading emails was a chore – even scrolling Ebay for vintage Funny Bunny merch was more a chore than he could manage. The status quo of his life hadn’t changed with that phone call yesterday. Shadi was still gone. And he still had a life to try and get on with the best he could.
Pegasus jumped as the Imperial March rang out from his cellphone. That ringtone only belonged to one individual, so he flipped his phone open and clicked ‘answer’ before any anger on the other end of the line could build.
“Kaiba-boy, for what do I owe this expectantly pleasant conversation?” Pegasus cooed.
“You knew about this so called ceremonial duel?!”
Seto’s vicious voice assaulted his ear through the speaker, and Pegasus flinched it away from his head.
“Of course, I knew about it,” Pegasus swirled around on his office chair, to look out over the city below, “What? Mad that little Yugi called me before he called you?”
“Shut it with your pendentive nonsense! Why would he even tell you?”
Pegasus answered with the universal sound of ‘I dunno,’ before following it up with, “You and me both tried to kill little Yugi-boy, but did you ever send him an apology card?”
Seto made a very threatening, very angry noise.
“Maybe that’s why little Yugi-boy told me about this monumental occasion, first,” Pegasus pursed his lips.
“Yugi is telling me that the Pharaoh is gone. What am I supposed to make of that information?”
“Have you not been paying attention the last couple of years, or have you just chosen to live in denial?”
“Pegasus…”
“God, Kaiba,” Pegasus rose from his chair to pace the length of his window, “The boy you have such a fascination with was a Spirit bound to that big golden pyramid little Yugi wore all the time. Did you pick up that much?”
“Yes.”
“So, you finally accepted the fact that Yugi and the Pharaoh were two separate entities?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, good, then you were only two years tardy to the party. The golden pyramid thing, the thing with the Pharaoh’s soul in it? It’s gone. Disappeared. Banished from play. The Pharaoh is gone, if little Yugi’s word is anything to go off of, and it is, because need I remind you, that little squirt has a heart of pure gold.”
Seto was silent on his end of the phone.
“Look, Kaiba,” Pegasus pinched the bridge of his nose, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The Pharaoh was a friend to-“
“He’s not gone,” Seto cut him off.
“Oh boy.”
“The Pharaoh is being a coward. His success was a fluke and he’s scared that this time, he’ll lose.”
“Kaiba.”
“Yugi told me that the God cards are gone, but that’s obviously another excuse. He’s covering for the Pharaoh. And he’s got you looped into this little charade, doesn’t he?”
“That is the most delusional thing I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s the only reason Yugi would think to call you about this – to get you in on this scheme!”
“Kaiba –”
“Well, it’s not going to work! I’ve got him figured out, I’ve got you figured out, and I’m not falling for this.”
“Kaiba, I do not have the flexibility or the patience to deal with the mental gymnastics you are performing right now,” Pegasus interjected, but again, his words were ignored.
“What’s in it for you? What did Yugi promise you to get you in on his little cover up?” Seto’s voice sounded uneven, “Or are you the one orchestrating this, Pegasus, just to spite me? You’ve probably gotten Yugi and the Pharaoh to lie about this – promised them money, or cards, or whatever! They’re both just afraid to face me!”
Pegasus felt his heart thump angrily in his chest as he snapped out the words: “Can’t you just accept that some people are gone?”
Seto was silent, and if Pegasus’s little phone hadn’t just handled a long-distance call to Egypt the night before, he might’ve thought that the line had gone dead. But after a moment, he heard Seto sneer.
“Awh, Pegasus, it almost sounded like I’d plucked a heartstring, there. How sad.”
Pegasus felt his eye twitch.
“I know you can’t bring yourself to think about anyone else but yourself, but just know that you weren’t the only person to lose someone yesterday!”
Pegasus bellowed into the receiver of his little flip phone, and before the man on the other end could say anything else, he snapped it closed.
He then remembered that he had to actually hit the ‘end call’ button to end the call, so he snapped it back open, mashed the button, and snapped it shut again.
The office was silent as he tried to compose himself with deep breath, after deep breath. That was a destructive outburst, he told himself, that had been destructive, but that was alright, he would do better next time – he would be better next time. His grip relaxed on his phone, and he dropped it by his side.
There was a knock at the door.
The door was open, but Croquet remained in the doorway, silently waiting for permission to be given or denied. Pegasus turned, gently laid his cell phone on his desk, and fixed his hair back behind his ear to give his good eye a clear view. He really needed a haircut. He should schedule a haircut.
“Croquet,” Pegasus breathed, “What is it?”
“It’s four PM, sir,” Croquet said.
The suited man’s expression was nearly unreadable behind his sunglasses and thick moustache, but his voice had been slightly softer than usual. He had undoubtedly heard the whole exchange between Pegasus and Seto. Pegasus’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes, I…” He looked blankly over his desk of cluttered papers and sticky notes. His eye didn’t focus on any particular document, “I just need to answer an email. I’ll be down.”
“Do you know what you’d like for dinner, sir?”
“Just tell the cook to whip up whatever whim hits him first.”
“Yes, sir.”
And Croquet was gone. Pegasus sank into his chair and stared blankly at his computer screen. He’d barely accomplished anything in six hours of work. Even on the days where he spent most of his time successfully scrolling through the internet, he still managed to feel productive by the end of his shift for answering messages. But he didn’t feel productive today. He hadn’t felt productive in a long time.
‘Get a haircut’ was typed into the body of an email. ‘DON’T IGNORE THIS >:l’ was typed into the subject line, and the message was addressed to himself. He clicked send and a few moments later, he watched it pop right back up into his inbox. Now, at the very least, he wasn’t a liar. With that, he stood up, grabbed his suit jacket off of the rack, and left his office.
Chicken tenders were waiting for him when he arrived back at Duelist Kingdom. High quality chicken breast, fried perfectly, and seasoned to the finest degree. Handcrafted noodles smothered in a smoked gouda comprised the other half of his plate. It was, of course, paired with a light, unoaked chardonnay. It was a gourmet rendering of one of his favorite meals from childhood.
Two familiar faces were waiting for him at the dinner table, too. From up on the wall, they looked down upon him, serene and happy inside their frames. Pegasus’s eye lingered on the gentle smile of Shadi’s portrait, but before he could lose himself to all the memories behind those brush strokes, he heard someone clear their throat.
The portraits weren’t the only company he had, tonight, however.
Pegasus raised his head and saw Croquet, again, waiting in the door. In the past, Pegasus had always eaten his meals alone with a comic book or with a cartoon playing on the overhead projector. He’d done without his comics or cartoons for a while – he’d done without dinner itself more than a few times, now. Having someone else join him for dinner was… Profoundly different.
“Did you… Want to sit?” Pegasus eventually asked.
“If you’d like the company, sir.”
Pegasus considered it for a few moments, before he nodded, and Croquet took a seat diagonally across the table.
Croquet unfolded the newspaper he’d brought with him, and carefully exchanged his sunglasses for the small pair of reading glasses he kept in his breast pocket. This situation was familiar. After Yugi had first broken the news of Shadi’s fate in the Pharaoh’s shadow game, Croquet had spent many evenings down with him at the dinner table. Pegasus and his oldest body guard did not have many heart-to-hearts. They never really had.
But Croquet had always been the only family member that could realize when Pegasus needed support, and the only family member who was willing to to provide it. The man did not have many well thought out words, or warm hugs to give, but he was there. He listened. And he nodded along when Pegasus did feel like sharing his feelings. Really, he was the best uncle Pegasus could’ve asked for.
Why Croquet had stuck around and suffered Pegasus’s abhorrent behavior back when he was high off the power of the Millennium Eye, Pegasus didn’t know. He was thankful, though, that Croquet had.
“It’s weird to eat chicken tenders with a fork and knife,” Pegasus commented, as he carved one up.
“It’s only proper table etiquette,” Croquet replied.
“Do you think there’s a proper way to dip them in honey mustard?” Pegasus asked.
“The little fork.”
“That’s the cheese fork.”
“It can have more than one use.”
“It can’t, though, it’s literally named the cheese fork.”
To that, Croquet just shrugged. Pegasus chewed thoughtfully, before picking up his wine glass and giving it an idle swirl.
“Is there anything good news in the paper?” Pegasus asked.
“Nope,” Croquet answered as he turned the page.
“Ah,” Pegasus sipped his wine, “All the good things go unnoticed, I suppose. All the good deeds go unrewarded and all the real heroes go unsung.”
Croquet glanced up at him from behind his paper, and Pegasus figured that he’d ruined any semblance of a nonchalant dinner conversation.
“Mm. Make sure you get some of the mac and cheese, later tonight, when you eat,” Pegasus said, “It’s divine.”
“Sir,” Croquet lowered his paper and fixed his eyes on Pegasus. It was almost jarring to see the other’s brown eyes, unhindered by his shades. The man let his usual hard expression soften, “If you need to talk to anyone, about anything, I am here to listen.”
“I know, Croquet.”
“Not just as your assistant.”
“I… I know, Croquet. Thank you,” Pegasus managed a small, reassuring smile, “I’m managing. I am. Shadi and I, you know, we talked about what could happen. He made it clear what he was risking, and I accepted that, from the beginning. It still hurts. Terribly. But I’m managing.”
Pegasus took a shaky sip of his wine.
“And you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to go around the world chasing purpose, I’m not going to come home with another golden eye, and I’m not going to start collecting souls again. I am managing. And not just with wine,” He pointed at the other, “But real therapy, this time.”
“I did mean to ask about how your sessions had been going.”
“They’re fine. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I told him that my last therapist literally went inside my head! And was unlicensed!” Pegasus chuckled.
Coquet’s mustache shifted uncomfortably on his face.
“Oh, come on, you have to admit it was a good joke. Even if the shrink thinks I’m a bit psychotic, now,” Pegasus waved a hand and raised his wine glass back to his lips. He took a sip before continuing, “…I know you didn’t care for Shadi.”
“It’s – not that I didn’t care for him.”
“You didn’t care for him.”
“I didn’t,” Croquet relented, “He went inside my mind, sir. Uninvited.”
“He did have a bad habit of doing that... But he only did it once, and he learned never to do it again. He… He’d changed a lot,” Pegasus stared down at his wine as he traced his finger around the rim, “I keep… I keep thinking that I’ll just see him somewhere, waiting for me. Out on the veranda, or in his spot in the library, or in my dreams. But he’s never going to be there, again.”
“Sir…”
“Do you think he’s with Cecelia? I’d like to think they’d get along, you know? They were both so good at tolerating me and my antics, I think they would’ve gotten along well.”
Croquet’s words died in his mouth, as Pegasus swiped his sleeve over his eye.
“I’m sorry,” Pegasus breathed, “I’m sorry. I know tears don’t pair well with chardonnay,” His laugh came out a bit forced, and to silence himself he shoved a piece of chicken tender into it.
Croquet slowly folded his newspaper and folded his hands atop it.
“You never have to apologize to me, sir.”
“Yes, I do,” Pegasus swallowed his chicken and his tears, “Remember that time I threatened to throw you in the dungeon? Did I ever apologize about that?”
“Yes.”
“OK, did I apologize for every time I threatened to do it?”
“No.”
“See? Even I am capable of ethical imperfection.”
“In your defense, sir, most of those ethical imperfections occurred during the time when you had a cursed eye in your skull.”
“Guh. Speaking of things I can’t tell to a licensed therapist…” Pegasus muttered into his cup.
~
If Seto Kaiba had known that it had truly been a goodbye, well, he wouldn’t have let it be a goodbye.
And now, looking out over the distant, blue curve of the Earth, he swore to himself for the hundredth time that he wasn’t going to let it remain a goodbye.
Chapter 2: DIAMONDS!
Summary:
The Kaiba brothers have their own concerns.
Notes:
Strap in, it's a Kaiba chapter :0! and my first time writing for either Kaiba brother lol
Chapter Text
Grief came in five stages, if you really wanted to boil down a feeling as complex and nuisanced as grief.
After his phone call to Maximillion Pegasus, Seto Kaiba had slammed his phone down so hard that the plastic on the receiver had cracked along the seam. Denial was not just a river in Egypt, but a freight train that had slammed into Seto and sent him careening straight towards pure, unadulterated anger – the second stage.
He hadn’t stop being angry since he’d gotten the news.
No, not news, lies. Lies and coverups – excuses.
But, at some point, he decided that it didn’t matter what nonsense Yugi or Pegasus spewed to him.
Because bargaining was next.
It took an elite team of programs roughly a week of non-stop work to assimilate a functioning AI for ‘The Pharaoh.’ The tech was already there, of course; the basic duelist AI and the core mechanics had already been polished up for the future release of Duel-Links. Really, the 3D render of ‘The Pharaoh’ took the longest. With the recordings collected during the Battle City Tournament, his team of programmers and artists had more than enough to work with. Battle analysists worked tirelessly with the team, to nail down the Pharaoh’s strategies, mannerisms, and tells.
This was no longer about titles or reputations – this was purely about pride.
He wanted to beat the Pharaoh. He needed, above everything else, to beat the Pharaoh – once and for all. And theoretically, his Duel-Links technology would allow him to fight for that relief.
But every subsequent duel resulted in more unfulfilled feelings and more tweaks to the algorithm.
It could be perfected – it would be perfected – and once it was, he would have his duel, and he would finally feel satisfied. All he had to do was fix the programming.
Because, really, what more was a person than their choices?
A man was no more than the actions he decided to take, and actions – choices – could be easily predicted. It was all just a matter of simple probability. Eventually, he would get it right. Eventually, one little tweak in probability would result in the perfect series of choices, and Seto would finally get the challenge he craved. He would finally get his satisfaction.
The weeks went by. More tweaks were made. 3D models were edited, the gravity engine was upgraded to better reflect the movement of hair, and the new lighting supervisor had really come through on adding more realistic ambient effects.
Yet something was still wrong. The Pharaoh ’s card selection had been perfected, and every duel allowed the deck he used to be swapped between the many slightly altered versions of itself that had been used throughout Battle City. His card combinations had been cross-referenced against every duel Yugi had ever played using his duel disk, and the AI’s choice in combos factored in all aspects of the game – life point values, cards on the field, cards in the hand, graveyard, etc., etc. Every possible thing that could influence a duelist’s choice was accounted for. Not only had the gameplay been perfected, but so too had the model’s voice, expressions, and movements.
He had created the pinnacle in gaming technology.
And yet every win against his creation, however challenging it had been, left him feeling hollow.
Something was still missing – something was still wrong.
And Seto Kaiba was not a patient man, so, he made a few choices.
The first of which felt like character assassination – no, he thought, as he punched Yugi Motou’s number into his cell phone – this was character suicide. The phone rung once, twice, three times, and Seto cursed himself for not remembering that Yugi hadn’t graduated yet, and was probably still in school, at this hour. Finally, the connection took hold, and Yugi’s voice greeted him with surprise. They hadn’t spoken since Seto had started Stage One: Denial, and an open conversation was the furthest thing from his mind in Stage Two: Anger.
But now, Seto was situated square in the middle of Stage Three: Bargaining.
“Yugi. I need you to tell me about the Millennium Items.”
~
“Hey, big bro!” Mokuba greeted Seto with a wide smile, “You almost done with work?”
Seto was at his desk, where Mokuba was pretty sure he’d started to put down roots, and he didn’t bother to look up from his computer. Over the intense clacking of his keyboard, he shook his head and answered.
“No.”
Mokuba glanced up at the digital clock on the wall – 9:53 PM.
“Well, it’s getting a little late,” Mokuba tried, “And your dinner is still downstairs.”
“Alright.”
“I could bring it up for you, if you want?”
Seto shook his head again, and looked up at his little brother. Mokuba had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie and he was leaning against the inside of the door frame, trying to look as natural and neutral as possible. He didn’t hide his worry so well on his face, however. Seto took a deep breath and pushed his chair out so he could stand up.
“That won’t be necessary, Mokuba, I’ll head downstairs.”
He ruffled Mokuba’s hair as he walked past him, and Mokuba smiled and swatted his hand away.
“Don’t stay up to late, either!” Mokuba called after to him.
Seto had already started down the stairs of their house, but he stared back up at Mokuba and raised a brow, “I should be saying the same to you. You have tutoring tomorrow.”
“Psh. I could sleep through tutoring and still pass my finals,” Mokuba shrugged, and started off down the hallway towards his room, “You’d better not work anymore, tonight.”
“And you had better not stay up playing Fortnight.”
And Mokuba wouldn’t.
He booted up Minecraft instead.
Mokuba Kaiba enjoyed many games. Ever since he was a kid, he’d love the thrill of competition – he supposed that growing up Seto Kaiba’s little brother had brought that out in him. Mokuba’s memories of the orphanage were vague, hazy things that he tried not to think about that often. But of all the half-remembered things that still bounced around in his very busy brain, he did possess a few happy memories, and the memories of the games he and Seto would play remained crystal clear. Chess, Uno, checkers (when chess would get old), monopoly (if they wanted to waste three hours and pretend that they were business tycoons), Kapumon (the collectible monster figurine game he’d been OBSESSED with), and Black Jack (when the grownups weren’t watching), were just a few amongst the many they played. Even as a child, Seto was highly competitive – but he hadn’t let that sour a single game against Mokuba. Seto never played to win against Mokuba; in fact, Mokuba was fairly sure that the few games he remembered winning had actually been handed to him. Not that he’d noticed or cared, at the time. Win or lose, he’d just liked playing with his big brother.
For as much as both Kaiba brothers enjoyed winning, neither one could bring out that fiery competition in the other. After all, they were all each other had, at the time. They had to build each other up. Even now, after Death T, Battle City, and the messy fallout of the Pharoah’s departure, that’s all Mokuba could try to do.
But lately it really felt like he was failing to do that.
Minecraft was a nice distraction. Single player gameplay consisted of rather mundane resource collecting, slow, careful exploration, and nearly limitless building potentials. The sweet, gentle tones of C418 made the whole experience that much more relaxing. Sure, it had mobs – monsters that could spawn and attack you, but really, if you were half as good at games as Mokuba, you wouldn’t have a problem with them on a regular difficulty. And the game was self-motivating. There was no time limit – no plot constantly reminding you to get back on track. It really was tranquil game.
Which is why Mokuba opted for multiplayer, instead.
tiara20: Next time you crash the server’s economy, could you warn me first?
Mokuba was instantly greeted by the co-mayor of his town. He smiled, and immediately started typing his apology.
KapuKing: i didnt crash the economy i simply nudged it in our favor
His character took such a miniscule point of damage that it didn’t even register on his health bar, as his fully enchanted diamond armor absorbed the punch clicked his way. He smiled – perhaps he hadn’t been apologetic enough.
That was Tiara20, for him. She’d been just one of the many people Mokuba had griefed (stolen her in-game items and destroyed what he hadn’t taken) when he’d first joined the server. He’d burned plenty of villages and plundered plenty of bases, but when he’d dumped a bucket of lava over her farmhouse, she hadn’t cussed him out, reported him to the mods, or rage-quit. Instead, she’d tried to ‘have a conversation’ with him about why he ‘felt the need to lash out at innocent players’ and ‘disrupt the peaceful lives of those around him.’ He’d humored her, just to see if she was as crazy as she had sounded.
Somehow, that Minecraft chat conversation had led to them starting a town together. Mokuba had sworn to be constructive instead of destructive, and with her ability to lay out a city, and Mokuba’s sick gamer skillz, they had managed to make the most successful settlement on the server. That was all a few months ago, now, and now that ‘bewd town – the most bewdiful town on CubicCraft.com’ had blossomed into the perfect cubic utopia, they did a lot less mining and crafting, and a lot more chatting about random stuff.
Their Minecraft friendship was a unique one, as most online relationships were. He knew that she was twelve – two years younger than him – which practically made her a baby, and he knew that she lived somewhere far away. She’d mentioned it being late, around 8:00 pm her time, and when Mokuba had looked at his own digital clock, it’d read 3:05 am. He also knew that she lived with a bunch of her siblings. It seemed like she was always mentioning a new brother or sister. He knew a lot about her interests – which books she liked, what hobbies she practiced, the steps she would take to fundamentally change society for the better – all of the things friends knew.
Yet, they were still strangers, in many ways.
He didn’t know the more intimate details of her life, just as she didn’t know them about his. He never mentioned his childhood, growing up in the orphanage. He never complained about his private tutor, or the stuffy business meetings he had to suffer through. And he had to avoid mentioning that his brother, and he, by extension, were two of the most successful businessmen in the world – or else she might start pestering him personally about the redistribution of wealth. And he really didn’t have the mind to defend the inner workings of Kaiba Corp when he sat down for late night Minecraft.
Especially not lately.
They played well on into the night, adding buildings to town, collecting resources for the shops, and Mokuba finally managed to finish up the automatic farm system so food would no longer be such a grind to procure. The hours just slipped by – Mokuba’s mind focused solely on the game, not familial stress.
At least, not until tiara20 innocently brought his attention back to it.
tiara20: Hey, isn’t it getting a little late for you?
Mokuba glanced at the clock and grimaced.
KapuKing: its only 3 am
tiara20: Yes, that’s my point!
KapuKing: i doubt ill be able to sleep anyway
KapuKing: besides sleep is for the weak
tiara20: I promise you it is not!
A few minutes passed, but it was clear that tiara20 was no longer that interested in continuing the creation of Bewd Town’s market square.
tiara20: Are you doing ok?
Mokuba’s fingers stilled on his keyboard, the LED lights beneath them fluctuating between every color of the rainbow. The rest of the room was dark, his computer screen glaringly bright. His eyes were tired. He was tired.
KapuKing: hey what do u do when youre worried about someone but you dont want them to know youre worried about them
Her character went still, as it often did, as she worked on her reply.
tiara20: I’m honestly not sure. I usually tell them I’m worried, right of the bat.
KapuKing: but what if they get really defensive when you voice worry
tiara20: Tell them that bottling up there feelings is never healthy.
tiara20: *their
KapuKing: thats a very mature response but what if they get even more defensive
tiara20: Well shoot
KapuKing: shoot them????
Mokuba smiled to himself as his character took a tick of damage from her avatar throwing a punch.
tiara20: Well shoot because that’s a very tough sitation to be in!
Her player avatar, a boxy figure with a Princess Peach skin, shift-keyed several times at him to really drive home the message.
tiara20: You can only help someone who wants to be helped. You can’t force someone into wanting to be helped, either. All you can do is remind them that you are there for support when they do finally realize that somethings wrong.
Mokuba read the words on the screen and took a very deep breath. She was right, he knew, and honestly, it was the answer he expected – a piece of advice that was reasonable but hard to feel satisfied with.
tiara20: It’s you’re brother again, isn’t it?
tiara20: *your
Mokuba had mentioned his brother several times to tiara20 – this virtual stranger he’d built a town with. It’d felt silly, the first time he’d mentioned being anxious about how distant his brother was being, but when tiara20 had mentioned how one of her own brothers had gone through a similar faze, his worries about Seto had just bubbled out and through his fingers, to the keyboard. It’d been a few months, now, and Seto had been mentioned (not by name, of course) several times.
Maybe your worries about your antisocial brother weren’t the sort of thing you were supposed to tell your Minecraft co-mayors, but…
Well, he didn’t want to admit it, but he had no one else to talk to. He didn’t really have friends. Being a Kaiba was an isolating experience. Yugi and the others could possibly be called ‘friends,’ but though they were nice enough, they were much older than him, and it was obvious they considered him a kid – an outsider. Yugi and his friends would still be mourning the same loss as Seto. And if Seto ever discovered that Mokuba had let them know anything that cast any doubt on the strength of his character – woo boy.
Mokuba had voiced his concerns to Roland, but he and the other assistants were too afraid of the backlash they would face if they pressed their concerns onto Seto.
Besides.
Roland and the other guards didn’t understand. They heard Mokuba, but they never really listened. Seto was Mokuba’s only true confidant – but for obvious reasons, he was unavailable for these specific worries.
And as much as he hated it – Mokuba did feel alone.
And maybe that’s why he finally shared more than he usually would’ve.
KapuKing: yeah its my brother
KapuKing: we lost a friend a few months ago and its affected him really bad
KapuKing: they had a complicated relationship and he says hes fine but i know hes hurting
KapuKing: hes not even a good liar
KapuKing: he doesnt eat he doesnt sleep he just locks himself in his office and works nonstop
KapuKing: i try to reach out but he just shuts me out and hes like that with other people but never to me
Tiara20 was standing still, and Mokuba wasn’t sure if she was typing, or frozen – completely dumbfounded by his grief and contemplating logging off to escape him. Her player was still long enough for regret to start to build up in Mokuba.
This was stupid. He was stupid for telling her all this.
But then her message appeared in the text box.
tiara20: I know how you feel and I’m sorry.
Her player character still didn’t move, and Mokuba’s eyes stared down the text box, waiting for anything more to appear.
tiara20: Sometimes people block everyone out, even though they need help.
tiara20: Our father died a long time ago. It was hard on all of us but it really changed my brother. Lately he’s been acting different, and I’m worried about him too.
KapuKing: im sorry
tiara20: Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.
tiara20: All you can do is try and eventually I know you will get through to him. You’re brothers, after all.
Mokuba took a minute to read over her messages, and those distant, fuzzy memories of the chess board and his big brother’s goofy smile floated back to him, between the earmuffs of his gamer headset. C418 made a pretty good backdrop for those bittersweet memories.
They were brothers, after all.
KapuKing: thanks
KapuKing: and sorry for spamming u with all this
tiara20: Don’t be sorry for that. Be sorry for ruining the economy.
KapuKing: i simply held onto my assets until the right opportunities presented themselves and now bewd town has the most stable infrastructure on the server
KapuKing: if anything you should be thanking me for making bewd town more prosperous
And after receiving one more single point of damage from an unarmed strike, Mokuba and his co-mayor sat about building up the town’s market square to accommodate for their newfound economic prowess.
Perhaps Minecraft hadn’t been all that distracting tonight, but it had still been sufficiently comforting.
KapuKing: thank god we have proximity chat and the entire server didnt heart all that
tiara20: Oh no! I didn’t even think about that!
KapuKing: you know we could always talk through something that isnt minecraft
KapuKing: do you have a facepage
tiara20: no…
KapuKing: diskcord?
tiara20: no… :(
Mokuba quickly tried to think of another digital service that had a chat function even marginally better than what Hatsune Miku had programmed into her game about cubes and crafting.
KapuKing: dueltag?
That was the chat app Seto had programmed to support their next virtual reality Duel Monsters game, Duel-Links. Dueltag had come out early, well before the associated game, or even the VR system the game would be hosted on. Designed to help duelists find and connect with friends (and future opponents), Dueltag boasted a slick, stylish interface, avatar customization, and the ability to upload custom emojis to group chats. It was a shot in the dark, but if tiara20 was anything of a gamer… Maybe she was one of the millions of players already signed up and waiting for Duel-Links to go live.
tiara20: Oh, I do! :)
tiara20: I didn’t know you liked Duel Monsters, too. :)
Mokuba’s smile returned to his face, and his fingers quickly tapped across his keyboard.
KapuKing: im a pretty big fan actually glad u like it too
KapuKing: what’s your tag ill add you
tiara20: My tag is ‘Prana’ :) What’s yours?
Chapter Text
“Shadi?”
A familiar voice met Shadi’s ears before he was even aware that he had ears once again. He’d been nothing, just a few seconds ago, and he had been nowhere. Those few fleeting moments that separated one plane of existence from another were short, but they were terrible. It must’ve been bright, wherever he was now, because his eyes sensed a shadow pass over him before he’d even had the strength to open them.
He didn’t want to wake, yet he felt that if he didn’t, there was a chance he might slip back into the cracks between realities and cease to exist entirely. He supposed that he shouldn’t take that chance.
Shadi finally cracked open his eyes, and he was greeted by the very concerned face of his Pharaoh.
That was surprising enough to fully wake him up.
“My Pharaoh!” Shadi exclaimed as he shot upright.
And then everything came rushing back at him, smashing into his brain like a bus hitting a fruit stand.
He remembered how he’d infiltrated the shadow game and snuck Yugi and his friends into the world of the Pharaoh’s memories. He remembered absorbing a long forgotten, locked away part of his soul, and briefly becoming some other man, from some other time, from some other life. He remembered that man’s memories – his promise to sleep inside the Stone, and his fear that he might reside within it for eternity. He remembered not having time to unpack all of that, because he remembered how quickly the battle for the world had tanked. He remembered the Pharaoh’s allies dropping one by one. He remembered putting himself between the Pharaoh and Zorc, and he remembered his own flesh flaking away from his body as it was disintegrated.
He nearly fell right back down where he’d laid.
“…Shadi?” The young man by his side tried again, “Are you quite alright?”
Shadi put a hand to his head, as if to steady the thoughts inside it, “It feels as though I’ve awoken from a very long slumber…”
“I am familiar with the feeling,” The Pharoah laughed lightly, then cleared his throat, “It has indeed been a long time – not necessarily long in the grand scheme of things, but it has been several months since our last encounter. Shadi, I must say that I am surprised to see you here. Did you follow me through the door?”
“I…”
Shadi briefly remembered pulling himself from the shattered remains of the Millennium Stone, just in time to see the door to the afterlife sealing shut after the Pharoah. He remembered the light being snuffed out. He remembered the darkness, after. The door hadn’t waited for him.
Yet, he was here, and the Pharaoh was kneeling right beside him.
“I do not recall,” Shadi answered, “My time in the Stone feels like a dream. One I cannot quite grasp.”
“You were in the Millennium Stone?” The Pharaoh’s eyes widened, “Then you are indeed that spirit? Hasan?”
Shadi’s head was starting to hurt, so he waved a hand and shook his head, “I am still just Shadi.”
“Shadi, then,” The Pharaoh offered him a polite smile, “I am happy to inform you that we won. Zorc is banished from this realm, the Items are at rest, and I am finally free to seek my peace.”
Shadi drew in a slow, deep breath. There was relief there – of course there was. At the same time, it truly didn’t feel real. Three-thousand years was a long time to pray for something – to fight for something. And to have it all neatly solved while his soul had slept in death?
Well, that felt more like a dream than anything else.
This was real, however. The world he found himself in, now, was real. He could feel the grains of sand beneath his fingertips. He could feel that the air he breathed actually filled his lungs, and the soft, unheard beat of his heart was there, inside him.
This was the world that came after life.
Aptly named the afterlife.
Shadi moved to stand up, and though his body was slow and sluggish to move, he rose to his feet and finally got a look at the new world he and his Pharaoh had come to inhabit.
The two of them were in a desert – vast, and endless. Rolling dunes of white, shifting sand stretched out around them in every direction, as far as the eye could see. A light breeze filled the air with a subtle sweetness that must have been the work of the wildflowers that decorated the dunes. They were strange, and beautiful, and unlike any flora Shadi had ever seen growing in the desert. The sky, too, was strange and beautiful; sitting above them as a swirling ocean of cloudless twilight. It looked like the sky just before sunset, though no sun was present.
“As you can see, there doesn’t seem to be much in the vicinity. Which is why I am happy to see a familiar face, surprised though I am to see it,” the Pharoah said as joined Shadi by his side, to look out over the rolling dunes as well, “Though, I must say that I expected there to be… More?”
He cast a look up at Shadi, who kept his eyes scanning the horizon.
“As did I. Someone is supposed to be here to guide us, are they not?” Shadi put a hand to his chin, “Anubis, I believe?”
“…Your guess is as good, if not better than mine, Shadi. The more mundane memories of mine are proving slow to return. Though, I can say with confidence, that you are the only being that has appeared to me,” The Pharaoh blinked up at him, “Perhaps you are meant to guide me?”
Shadi finally looked down and made eye contact with his King.
There were a lot of things Shadi regretted – a lot of things he wished he could go back and do again with the heart he had grown to carry. He could never go back and undo all the pain he’d caused with his mistakes; he’d accepted this. But, as he reminded himself, he could always choose to be better, now. His Pharaoh was extending a hand – the least he could do was take it.
Besides – it was comforting to be needed one last time.
“Of course, my Pharaoh,” Shadi offered the young King a little bow, “Please, allow me to escort you to the Halls of Ma’at.”
And so, they sat off, carefully traversing the desert of Du’at. The white sand beneath their feet was soft, but firm enough as they walked. The grasses that dusted the dunes and the odd flowers that spotted it were long but easily brushed through. And the breeze walked with them, gently swaying their cloaks, but not disturbing the sand of the desert around them. For a desert, the underworld was surprisingly inviting – serene, even. They didn’t grow hungry, and they didn’t grow tired; they simply continued on.
The two began up a particularly tall dune.
“Shadi?”
“Hm?”
“How is it that you know which direction to go?”
“What sort of guide would I be if I did not know the way?”
“Hah,” The Pharaoh quickened his pace just enough to walk up beside the older man, “Truly, though, I am curious.”
Shadi considered the question for a minute.
“Perhaps the part of Hasan within me is guiding the both of us. He swore to serve you, so perhaps this is meant to be his final task.”
“Shadi, I’m not sure that I fully understand your…”
Shadi glanced down at his King.
“Your…” The Pharaoh struggled briefly, “You, Shadi. You were – are Hasan, the spirit that my father sought out to serve me, who was sealed within the Millennium Stone. Yet, you are Shadi, who was obviously not sealed within the Millennium Stone. Who are you, really?”
“Um…”
Shadi’s hand instinctively reached up for the Millennium Key, as it often did when he needed a little reassurance, or a simple, grounding weight. It wasn’t there, of course. The Millennium Key was in its final resting place, never to be unearthed. So, his hand closed around itself.
It was just him, now.
“I…” Shadi faltered again, just as they reached the top of the dune. He looked up, and a relieved sigh escaped him, “Look, my Pharoah! The Nile awaits us.”
The Pharaoh quickened his pace and joined Shadi at the crest of the dune. The Nile sat before them, down in the vast valley. Its deep, sparkling water segmented the sprawling white desert and the swirling twilight sky above it. Lush plant life grew up and around its banks, inviting them both towards its oasis. And there, sitting just within the bounds of its water, was a large ship, docked and waiting.
The Pharaoh lagged behind Shadi as they descended the sandy hill. Which was confusing – the young Pharaoh should have been the one that was quick on his feet. When Shadi arrived at the bottom of the dune, he looked back up and studied the Pharaoh as he descended the sandy slope. The Pharaoh kept taking quick glances up towards the ship in the distance – nervous glances – and Shadi started to suspect that something more was troubling his King. He didn’t press it, however; not until they were on the banks of the river, and the Pharaoh had stopped taking his reluctant steps forward.
“My Pharaoh?” Shadi ventured.
“I suppose there’s no turning back now, is there?” The Pharaoh asked, instead of answering.
There never was any turning back.
“No,” Shadi answered, “But so much lies ahead. Are you alright, my Pharaoh?”
The Pharoah shook his head, and his violet eyes flashed up towards Shadi for a moment, before dropping down and away, towards the lapping water of the Nile. Upon the banks, a boarding pass had been placed. The wooden ramp led up to the deck of the ship, and upon it’s planks, bold, purple letters had been painted in the shape of a cartouche; a single name dictated who was meant to board the ship.
“Atem?” Shadi read, aloud. He turned back towards his Pharaoh, his eyes wide, “Is that your name?”
“Yes?” Realization then dawned on the young Pharaoh, and his expression turned troubled, “I… remember now that you never had the chance to learn my name. You bought my friends just enough time to see it delivered it to me. If you’d survived a few minutes longer, your ability to read our language would have proven quite useful. It all worked out, though.”
Shadi briefly remembered Yugi, Joey, Tea, and that other guy appearing, just before his body had been completely disintegrated. At least they had succeeded, where he hadn’t. It wasn’t often that hindsight provided relief, but in that moment, he was suddenly very thankful that he had decided to bring the Pharaoh’s friends along with him, into the shadow game.
“I am very glad to hear that your friends were able to aide you, in battle,” Shadi said, “And share in your victory.”
“They would not have been there, if not for you. I must thank you, Shadi.”
“Well… I would not have brought them if you had not shown me how powerful the bonds of friendship could be.”
“My thanks is not solely for that, Shadi, but for your service and your sacrifice.”
“Such a thing is unnecessary, my King.”
“You sacrificed yourself to protect me.”
“As did many others.”
“And I intend to thank each one, in turn,” The Pharoh said sternly, “I’m simply starting with you.”
Shadi shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“I cannot accept your gratitude without first apologizing, myself,” Shadi said quietly, “I received an opportunity to do so.”
“For?”
“For our initial meeting. For forcing you into a shadow game, under the guise of a test. I was too blinded by pride to see anything clearly.”
“Oh, yes, that,” The Pharoah gave him an awkward smile, “You were the first Item holder I had met. And the first to challenge me to a shadow game. It feels like so long ago, now.”
“Two years is barely a blink for either of our souls, yet, I agree. It does feel like a distant memory. One that I do regret, deeply. I placed you and all of your friends in grave danger, to satisfy my own personal curiosity and… Petty desire to win. You forced my eyes open, that day. You opened my heart to change. So, I should also be thanking you,” Shadi said solemnly, “For waking me from my delusion.”
After a few moments of contemplation, the Pharoah smiled again, this time with his usual confident air, “Well then. I shall accept your apology, on the condition that you also accept my gratitude. Have we a deal?”
The Pharaoh stuck out his hand, and after a short pause, Shadi took it.
“A deal, my Pharoah.”
“I also want to thank you for walking with me, today.”
Shadi’s polite smile slowly faded, and he inclined his head at the young King.
“I saw my friends and my father when I looked through the Door,” The Pharaoh explained, “But when I awoke here, alone, I am ashamed to say that I experienced a moment of weakness. I called out for anyone that would hear me, and you answered that call. I didn’t want to walk alone. I know that Yugi was the one that had to prove that he could stand on his own, but I fear that I might be the one that’s forgotten how to do so.”
“My Pharoah…”
Twice over, the young Pharaoh had protected the world.
The young Pharoah had faced down the supreme being of chaos and destruction, and sacrificed his life, his name, and his soul, without hesitation, to keep the world safe. And three-thousand years later, he had emerged again, to lead an army against the forces of darkness. He’d summoned the gods, and Holactie herself, to strike down Zorc and pull the world back from the brink, again. Selfless, and brave beyond measure – he was a true hero. Every Pharaoh from history may have claimed the title of a god, but if any Pharaoh deserved to be seen as more than just human, it was Shadi’s Pharaoh.
But in this moment, looking down at his King, Shadi just saw a child.
A sixteen-year-old child, who was facing his own death. Men went mad in the face of their own deaths. Many went mad when faced with far less. And here the Pharoah was, just sixteen years old, and facing the biggest unknown in existence. Of course he didn’t want to walk alone; he shouldn’t have to walk alone.
Shadi put a hand on his King’s shoulder.
“My Pharoah, you taught me long ago that true strength lies in the connections we forge with other people. No heart is made stronger by standing alone. Those connections and that love – that is where the real strength of a soul lies. You do not stand alone, my Pharaoh. You may need to make the rest of this journey by yourself, but you are not alone. Your friends and family are waiting for you on the other side. Their souls will be with you. My own heart journeys with you, too.”
The Pharoah seemed to take his words to heart, and he nodded up at the older man.
“What will this final judgement be like, Shadi? Do you know?”
“I do not. But you will not have any trouble passing judgement, my Pharoah,” Shadi said assuredly, “If any god argues against you, simply remind them who stepped in to save our world. And if that does not work – call upon Osiris’s personal Sky Dragon to do the talking for you. It possesses two mouths – surely one can do so.”
That did earn him a smile and a laugh, and Shadi let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He couldn’t help but feel something bittersweet twist within him. He should have provided this comfort long ago. He should have been better. A better guide. A better servant.
A better –
He almost let himself think of the word father, but before his mind could latch onto the thought, he gestured to the boat.
“They are waiting for you. It would be wise to not keep them waiting longer.”
Shadi patted him on the back, and with a newfound stride, Atem started towards the ramp to board the vessel. Behind his heels, the wooden planks began to fade from existence. It was completely gone by the time Atem arrived on the deck. He turned back to look down at Shadi on the bank.
“You have a place in my court!” Atem called down to him, “When you arrive, you needn’t be a stranger!”
“I appreciate your kindness, my Pharaoh!”
“Take care, my friend!”
However odd it was for his king to refer to him as a friend, it still felt nice.
“Take care, Atem!” Shadi called back to his Pharaoh.
And with that, the boat started to drift away. Atem disappeared from sight, blocked from view by the massive sides of the ship. He was on his way to his rest – to peace. It was finally over.
Shadi’s work was finally done.
All there was left to do was sit and wait for his turn at the scales.
Notes:
:']
Chapter 4: What's Been Lost
Summary:
A lot's happened, and a lot's changed.
Chapter Text
“So, Mr. Pegasus, what’s next for Industrial Illusions?”
By the time Pegasus had blinked away the flash of the camera and focused his eye on the interviewer, a wide, dazzling smile had found his face.
Her question was just the same as the one his board of directors and investors had presented him with at their last meeting, just a couple of days ago.
“Well,” Pegasus smiled brightly, “As all of your dear viewers are probably already well aware of, Industrial Illusions has taken a big leap forward into the tech industry! Our corporate partner, a company I know you all know and love, KaibaCorp, is paving the way in VR!”
His investors had only been placated by that fact for a short time.
“VR?” The interviewer chirped, “You don’t mean virtual reality, do you?”
Croquet crossed his arms, where he waited in the darkened corner of the sound stage, behind the line of camera, light, and sound technicians. What else could VR mean?
“You bet I do! As you know, my good friends over at KaibaCorp have been busy as bees, developing this new and exciting tech! And we are absolutely thrilled that they’re bringing Duel Monsters along with them!”
The interviewer beamed at him, “That’s wonderful news, indeed, Mr. Pegasus! Can you give us any details about this new collaboration?”
“But of course!” Pegasus directed his charming smile to the front camera, and the shot zoomed in on him so he could address the viewers directly.
”For years, the magic of Duel Monsters had enchanted players across the globe. KaibaCorp’s Duel Hologram Technology has taken a simple game of Duel Monsters from a regular, old tabletop card game to arena-filling spectacle! They made monsters feel like real threats and gave duelists the ability to feel the power of their cards played out at their fingertips! That magic is going to feel realer than ever, now, with KaibaCrorp’s brand-new, cutting-edge VR system! A regular ol’ street duel will soon feel like one of those stadium packed events. The monsters will feel real. The spells will feel real. And victory will taste even sweeter!”
Croquet watched the television that showed the real-time broadcast display an infographic across half of the screen, next to Pegasus’s sales-pitch face. It had instructions for pre-ordering both the VR system and the DuelLink’s game, as well as the not so far off release date of both.
Pegasus wrapped up his advertisement, “The future of gaming is here, and I’m as happy as a clam to know that Industrial Illusions will be a part of it.”
The interviewer smiled, and nodded, and turned to the cameras to go over the details of the add one more time, to really drive the message home to whoever actually watched this glorified commercial. It was all scripted; the questions, the cooperate news, the announcement – Pegasus’s enthusiasm.
Pegasus claimed that he was happy with the partnership, but Croquet knew there was something else that was less content behind that smile.
KaibaCorp was making the game and developing the tech. They weren’t letting I2 get involved at any point in the process past the initial get-go. Pegasus had only been allowed to attend the first meeting to sign the licensing agreement. The brothers Kaiba were not in the business of taking gaming advice from anyone, let alone Pegasus.
KaibaCorp would make the game – Pegasus could sit back and do nothing but paint and watch his silly shows. But obviously, something wasn’t sitting right with Pegasus. Croquet wished he understood what it was.
“So, Mr. Pegasus, let’s talk about you, for a minute,” The interviewer pivoted to the next, personal segment.
“Oh, please do!”
Pegasus’s act was flawless. A charming smile here, a well-timed laugh there; he was every bit as radiant and confident as he was in every other interview or talk piece. And the interviewer ate it up, as would the viewers of this gaming bulletin. Pegasus had done this dance thousands of times before – all the steps were well practiced.
The interviewer asked a few more questions, and Pegasus provided a few answers, previously provided to him, and with a cheery sign-off, the interview was over. The interviewer and crew began to mill about from their stations, to go and wrap up Pegasus’s segment while Pegasus himself remained on the guest couch.
He sat there, under the bright fluorescent stage lights, on the garish pink couch, looking about as miserable as he could in his bright, red suit. Croquet grabbed a water bottle off the craft services table, and made his way towards the stage. He moved past camera hands and stepped over cables, until he was standing under the same bright lights.
“It’s hot up here,” Croquet commented idly. He held out the bottle to Pegasus.
Pegasus’s hair shone bright white, in the limelight. He raised his head, and looked up at Croquet, his face now devoid of any of the forced joy he’d displayed during the interview.
Pegasus sighed, and took the water bottle handed to him, “How was my hair?”
“…Fine,” Croquet said.
He’d just gotten a haircut, and hair and makeup had spent at least an hour on him; of course it was fine. It obviously wasn’t quite the answer Pegasus’ had wanted, but he still nodded, and took a long drink of water.
“I’m out of practice,” Pegasus sighed again, “I have less and less energy to do this sort of stuff. I used to enjoy it! Talk shows, interviews… What’s happened to me?”
Pegasus muttered his question to his water bottle, not to Croquet. Yet, Croquet still felt obliged to answer the obvious.
“A lot, sir.”
That got Pegasus to look up at him, again. He just looked lost, sitting there, all dressed up and in the spotlight he used to bask in.
After a moment, Pegasus put the cap on his water, and sighed, “Well, I think it’s high time to head on home.”
~
Shadi watched his reflection ripple in the shallow waters along the edge of the Nile. Though it flowed through unfamiliar sands in an unfamiliar dimension, it was still a familiar comfort to have beside him. Many religions and myths mentioned a river that ran through the afterlife, though he couldn’t discern anything particularly strange about this one. Its water was clear and fresh when he’d tasted it, and it was nothing but refreshing when he’d splashed it in his face. He briefly wondered how far this river stretched – if the desert that held it flowed on and on like the water. He wondered how many other souls would pass through here, or if he would be the last. Not many were left that still claimed the same gods.
The thought of Anubis having to brush dust off his scales for the Pharaoh was a bit funny, if not a bit blasphemous. Honestly, the gods had probably just let the Pharaoh walk on through the Halls of Ma’at, sans judgement.
Shadi shot a glance both up and down the river, and settled back down between the reeds. He sighed, the novelty of breathing already gone, and his cheek sunk heavier against his palm. No gods or deities had bothered to make an appearance, yet. No boats had come floating along for him, nor had any canoes, rafts, or life preservers. He’d never once owned a watch, and the sun was nowhere to be seen in the perpetual twilight sky, so he had no way of knowing just how long he’d been sitting and waiting. It certainly felt like it’d been hours; perhaps even days. His sense of time had been scrambled ever since his death.
Well, to be perfectly honest his sense of time had been scrambled long before that.
The breeze was gentle, yet strong enough to make the reeds and trees sway. The river filled the air with the steady, calming sound of flowing water, and just faintly, he could smell the wildflowers on the air. It was incredibly peaceful. He didn’t dare close his eyes, for the fear that sleep would lure him in. He wasn’t sure if he could sleep, here, in whatever dimension he was in, but regardless, if his eyes were closed, he wouldn’t be able to see the vessel that would come to pick him up, and it would be just his luck to miss it the moment he let his eyes slip shut.
Shadi scooted up to the edge of the water again, to cup some in his hands and splash it into his face. As the cool water dripped away, back down into the leisurely flow, his reflection caught his attention.
He brushed the tips of his fingers across one of the triangles that rested up on his cheek. Though death had finally claimed his soul, the meaning behind the strange markings hadn’t made itself known.
There were still so many locked doors within his head, and now, he was starting to fear that they would be locked forever.
His reflection blinked back at him and he wondered if that grim, bloody self-reflection still lurked about within the cracked corridors within his mind.
Atem’s question floated back to him, from the back of his mind.
Who was Shadi?
A man without a home, without a family, without an origin. His mind was sent back to the Pharaoh’s shadow game against Zorc, to the moment when his mind was cracked open to accommodate the sudden presence of Hasan’s soul. Hasan’s memories and experiences had infiltrated his head and found their place, and the most troubling part was that it felt like those memories had belonged there, like they’d always belonged there.
He remembered meeting Atem’s father, and he remembered agreeing to sleep within the Millennium Stone, but he could no longer tell if Shadi remembered those things or if Hasan remembered those things, or if Shadi and Hasan were and had always been one in the same.
He couldn’t even fathom what the room of his soul looked like, now. Was it piled full of things that didn’t belong to him? Or had a select few of those locked doors finally opened all on their own now that Hasan was back?
Again, he felt the absence of the Millennium Key atop his chest – keenly.
With a heavy sigh, Shadi sat back, well away from the water’s edge. He put his head in his hands and shut his eyes. It felt like he was going crazy, sitting here, and waiting for everything to make sense.
Where was that damn boat?
He could only lay there for so long.
Reeds and flowers parted as he moved through them, over worn rocks and sandy banks. The Nile was peaceful as it flowed beside him, the sky, serene twilight – both sat in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside his head. He wasn’t consciously doing it, but his walk really did turn into more of a march. His hands were clasp in fists.
For the first time in his life, he found himself feeling impatient.
He felt jittery. He felt restless. How long had he been walking? How long had he been waiting? Shadi came to a standstill, and his eyes wandered up again, over the river and to the twilight horizon.
What if no boat was coming for him?
The sky was unchanged. The water was undisturbed. There was no boat.
There wasn’t going to be a boat.
‘This must be my punishment.’
For all the death he’d wrought – for every neck that had worn the Millennium Ring – for every socket that had held the Eye – for every thief, crook, and graverobber he had dispatched – for every person he had used as a tool – for the Ishtars, and Yugi, and his friends – for Pegasus.
Perhaps the gods didn’t consider him worthy of the scales and the swift end Ammit’s snapping jowls would provide.
Perhaps this was all there was ever going to be – an endless river, an endless desert, and endless time to wander it all alone.
How cruel this fate would be – he’d become accustomed to companionship just in time to feel it’s loss.
~
Mokuba tapped the papers down atop the kitchen bar before him, laid them down, and folded his hands atop them, all before turning his attention to his big brother.
“Hey, Seto.”
“Yes?”
“Why is KaibaCorp wanting to fund an archeological dig in Egypt?”
Seto’s face betrayed nothing as he continued to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“KaibaCorp is funding a plethora of international activities,” Seto stated as his hand passed over the sugars and powdered creams on the counter, without selecting any of them.
“I know. I read our statements,” Mokuba said.
“As the co-owner, I’m glad that you do.”
“And as the co-owner, I’m curious as to why we’re funding this dig in Egypt,” Mokuba pressed on.
Seto lowered his mug from his lips, and searched his little brother’s face for a few moments.
There was a time when Mokuba would’ve jumped off a cliff with him, no questions asked. His love had been blind, and his loyalty had been unwavering. Seto had exploited that, long ago, but things had changed. He’d learned how to love and appreciate his little brother again, and Mokuba… Well, Mokuba had grown up. He followed Seto because he loved his older brother, but that love was no longer blind to all the things he considered to be ‘faults’ of Seto’s. When Mokuba complained, or voiced concern, Seto was quick to oblige him with, admittedly, empty promises to change and ‘better himself.'
But lately it was getting harder to please Mokuba. Perhaps popular media was right – maybe teenagers were just harder to manage.
And while Seto could appreciate how well his little brother had come to think and act on his own, a part of him was beginning to miss that unquestioning loyalty.
“KaibaCorp is always looking to capitalize on things of value. Isn’t there substantial value in relics?” Seto asked, before following it with a sip of hot coffee.
“There is.”
“Then there you go.”
“Hm,” Mokuba nodded, pursed his lips, and titled his head down at the papers beneath his hands, “So, KaibaCorp is looking to capitalize on the Millennium Puzzle, then?”
Seto flinched, scalding his tongue. He quickly swallowed the burning liquid and marched forward towards the table. He reached for the papers, but he was running on two hours of sleep and coffee, and Mokuba’s reflexes were those of an MLGpro. Mokuba pulled the papers off the table without contest.
“Mokuba –“
“Is this what you’ve been obsessing over these last few weeks? All the secret phone calls? All the emails you don’t Cc me on?” Mokuba directed a curt frown up at Seto, “You’re after Yugi’s Puzzle?”
Seto’s cold, steely eyes settled down on Mokuba. His expression was muddled – completely unreadable. Everything about his body language and stare communicated a clear and obvious anger, yet when he spoke again, his voice was soft.
“It’s no longer Yugi’s Puzzle,” Seto said slowly, calmly, “And yes. I’ve been directing a small fraction of KaibaCorp’s resources to fund the exhumation.”
Mokuba’s eyes narrowed, just slightly, and Seto chided himself for earning that suspicion. He’d meant to say excavation, not exhumation.
“Give me that report,” Seto held out his hand, “Please.”
After a couple seconds of hesitation, Mokuba held out the packet. Seto took the papers from him, and stepped back to immediately begin reading them over.
“Who gave you this report?” Seto asked. He didn’t take his eyes off the papers, even as he picked up his coffee from the bar.
“Roland.”
Seto hummed with a nonchalant air, though truth be told, Roland was going to get an earful, later, and a write-up. Though most KaibaCorp business was shared between the brothers, Seto was certain that he’d stressed the importance of secrecy when it came to Pharaoh Project. Seto folded the papers in half, and tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat.
“Mokuba,” Seto said, “How would you like to head the play-testing of DuelLinks?”
Despite how upset his little brother might have been, Mokuba’s eyes still lit up.
“It’s going to be a lot of work,” Seto continued, after a long drink of his now cooled coffee, “Both the Neurons VR system and Crystal Cloud Network are new, and DuelLinks is still in Beta. And despite how solid we’ve made them, we can expect to see a standard array of issues when all three are implemented together. This play test period will test the connection between the three systems before sale to the public goes live. Therefore, it’s critical to development. I’m sure you know this.”
“Of course, I do,” Mokuba said, “Actual play is the most important step in troubleshooting.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Mokuba looked like he wanted to say something more, but he’d officially been distracted. He’d wanted this responsibility – he’d mentioned it several times now, to Seto. This arrangement would keep Mokuba busy, at the very least, keep Seto’s hands free to handle other matters. This was a win-win scenario.
Seto thought back over the report still tucked away in his pocket, and he pressed the lip of his mug to the tired smile on his face.
Everything was still going according to plan.
Chapter 5: The Birthday Boy!
Summary:
It's October 8th and it's Pegasus's birthday! :]
And the Kaiba's have come to party!
Chapter Text
It was exceptionally easy to find Maximillion Pegasus. He was the eye of the party storm, laughing and chatting it up with the crowd that swarmed around him. His scarlet, sequined suit wasn’t the best camouflage, either, as it glittered like it was made of rubies beneath the chandelier lights. Seto wasted no time in getting the man’s attention. He walked straight up to Pegasus, made direct eye contact with the other smoozers plying for Pegasus’s attention, and loudly cleared his throat.
Pegasus spun around, and gasped when his brown eye landed on Kaiba.
“Kaiba! Mokuba!” Pegasus looked from brother to brother, and beamed, “What a wonderful surprise! Welcome to the party!”
Obviously, Pegasus didn’t want anyone to forget why they were there – he was wearing a white sash across his shoulder and chest that said ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ in bold, gilded letters. There was a glass of red wine in his hand, just a splash shy from empty, and if the blush on his face was anything to go by, it probably wasn’t his first glass of the night.
“Hello, Mr. Pegasus,” Mokuba said politely.
Mokuba shifted the briefcase in his hands as the small crowd around them dispersed. When Seto had said they were actually going to accept Pegasus’s birthday party invitation, he could hardly believe it. In fact, he still barely believed it, despite being in the middle of the music, laughter, and sugary, sweet air. Seto had looked completely out of place in the midst of the party, and yet despite how unbelievable it was, Mokuba actually found himself happy to be there. Seto was actually taking time out of his self-imposed isolation (or his standard work, as he claimed) to attend a social gathering. Even if all they did was hand over Pegasus’s present, grab some cake and ditch the party, he would be happy.
Seto did not force a smile to his face as he took in the sight of the other man, but he did greet him.
“Good evening, Mr. Pegasus,” Seto said.
“Ooh, there’s no need to be so formal, Kaiba-boy,” Pegasus cooed, then snapped his fingers, “I knew I should’ve bought that bouncy house – I wasn’t expecting young, little Mokuba to attend. It was either the clowns or bouncy house. Kids love bouncy houses! Well, at least you like clowns, Kaiba, being a kindred spirit and all!”
Kaiba did not laugh, but Pegasus found his own joke incredibly funny.
“Clowns?” Mokuba quickly looked around, and after wiping a tear from his eye, Pegasus pointed towards the side of the room, where indeed, a small collection of clowns were constructing a balloon version of the Eiffel Tower. A big balloon ‘26’ sat at the very top of it.
Mokuba still found it hard to believe that Pegasus was under thirty. Or forty.
“Though, the clowns are a riot, you should both go get a balloon animal,” Pegasus looked down at his wine glass, then his empty hand, “Shoot… I seem to have lost my rabbit…”
Kaiba took a deep breath as he watched Pegasus quickly turn about himself, apparently looking for a balloon rabbit.
“I was actually hoping that we could have a private chat. Somewhere private,” Seto said flatly.
“Oh? Oh,” Pegasus pouted, having given up on the rabbit, and fixed Kaiba with a bitter look, “Don’t tell me you actually want to talk about business. On today, of all days?”
“No,” Seto did not hesitate to answer with what Mokuba knew was technically a lie.
“Nope!” Mokuba agreed with his brother.
Pegasus’s face instantly lit up again, “Well then, by all means, let’s go have a little chat!”
The other partygoer’s made way for them as Pegasus led the brothers through the hall. Mokuba did his best to focus on not letting the briefcase make contact with any stray millionaire that might be in his path. As distracted as he was with it, though, he managed to see Kaiba reach out to one of the many waiters and pull a bottle of wine from the serving tray, in one slick, fluid motion. Mokuba’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say a word – he just followed suit after his big brother.
Pegasus led them through a crowded vestibule off the main hall, and into a sparely populated hallway, further into the manor. Pegasus threw open one of the doors, gave a grand gesture of welcome, and ushered the Kaiba’s inside. Before closing the door, Pegasus threw a salute to one of the security guards stationed in the hallway. And with that, the noise of the nearby party was shut out, and the three of them were alone.
“So, boys, what can I do for you?” Pegasus asked as he flopped himself down onto one of the leather armchairs.
It was just a little sitting room – nothing terribly fancy, yet still terribly fancy for Kaiba’s tastes. There was Funny Bunny memorabilia on display on the shelves, and the wallpaper was loud and gaudy; just like the man in the sequined suit. There were a few glasses waiting on the table, so Kaiba flipped one over for himself, and began to pour a glass, much to Mokuba’s confusion – his brother didn’t drink. Seto reached out a hand, and without hesitation, Pegasus extended his empty glass. Though both glasses were filled, and both were raised, only one man actually sipped the contents.
“I want you to tell me about magic,” Seto said, as he lowered his glass.
The wine in Pegasus’s own glass nearly exploded out of the sides as the man sputtered into it. Mokuba internally reacted much in the same way, but masked it a whole lot better.
“Magic?” Pegasus echoed, aghast, “Kaiba-boy, don’t tell me you believe in magic, now?”
“I’m simply curious.”
“Did they put something in this wine?” Pegasus laughed, before putting his lips back his glass for a sip.
“Do you still do magic, Pegasus?”
“It sounds like you’re asking me if I do cocaine – and the answer is no, in both cases… Not since university. Wait, or since I lost my Eye. I don’t do cocaine. Or magic. No,” He took another sip.
Seto hummed, “Why not?”
“Well, it’s terribly expensive and addictive, and Funny Bunny says to say no to drugs.”
Kaiba’s grip on his wine glass tightened, and he took another deep breath, “I mean magic, Pegasus. Why don’t you do magic, anymore?”
Pegasus’s expression drew distraught, and for a few long moments, he simply traced the rim of his glass and stared down at the dwindling pool.
“It’s bad for you, too…” Pegasus said distantly, “It takes… A lot out of you, to do it, even with – with an Item. That sort of power is just as consuming… It’s addictive. You lose yourself, you lose focus on your future, hurt those in the present. It’s addictive…”
Pegasus then pointed his glass at Mokuba, “Don’t do drugs. Or magic. Stay in school,” He offered, before draining his glass.
Mokuba was too baffled to do anything else but nod awkwardly at the advice drunkenly offered at him. He cast a concerned look up at Seto, but Seto was staring at Pegasus over the rim of his own, untouched glass, as Pegasus fumbled to refill his own.
Seto didn’t let up, “How does one do magic?”
“A can-do attitude and reckless abandon,” Pegasus looked up, gauged how unamused Seto was, and rolled his eye, “I’m serious. Magic is fickle, you have to know what you want, and you just have to let yourself – have it. You have to reeeeally want it.”
“That’s it? You just have to want to do magic?”
“That’s it. But if t’were easy, everyone would do it. Maybe it’s different if you don’t have a Millennum… Millennium Itum…” Pegasus grew fascinated with his glass, again.
Mokuba shifted uncomfortably in his seat by Seto. His eyes kept shifting between his brother by his side, and the man across the designer coffee table. Nothing about this situation felt right. He’d been in plenty of meetings with Maximillion Pegasus, over the years. Ever since Duelist Kingdom, he insisted on joining his brother when the silver-haired millionaire was anywhere close to the picture. He still didn’t trust Pegasus. How could he?
But in all of those business meetings and luncheons, Pegasus was as prim and put-together as every other man in attendance – even more so, most of the time. He always exuded control – over himself, over the meeting, over every situation. This Pegasus was definitely not in control of anything, and he certainly wasn’t seeming all that put-together.
Mokuba frowned – was alcohol really that bad? Or was there something else going on with him?
“Pegasus, you wanted to combine the magic of the Millennium Items with my Kaibacorp technology, is that correct?” Seto asked, as flatly and directly as he had every other question.
Even through his drunken haze, Pegasus started to look even more uncomfortable. His eye darted up towards Seto, and he took another sip of his drink.
“What is this about, Kaiba?” Pegasus asked wearily.
Mokuba also looked up at Seto, curious as to where this was going.
“I told you. I’m simply curious about magic,” Seto answered, “I never fully understood your motives during the Duelist Kingdom tournament. I never cared to. But now I find myself rather fascinated with the idea of combining magic and technology.”
Pegasus shook his head and took a deep, shaky breath, “I did think that I could do it… Combine the magic of the Millennium Items and your hologram tech.”
“For what purpose?”
“Does it matter?” Pegasus’s voice took on a defensive edge as suspicion started to cloud his eye.
Mokuba sensed Seto settle beside him – the lack of response hadn’t agitated him. If anything, he’d anticipated such a response, and might’ve even been pleased by it.
“Your tech… It already ‘sort of fed off similar magics, whether you knew so or not. The cards themselves – Duel Monsters… All spirits, really… It wouldn’ have been that hard to tweak a few things to make it work…”
Pegasus didn’t elaborate on it was, and apparently Seto didn’t need him to.
“So, it can be done,” Seto said thoughtfully, then took a deep breath.
Pegasus dropped his head and looked down at the shallow pool in his wine glass. He titled it slowly, this way and that, and was silent, as if his thoughts were physically swimming in it, and he was trying to see it through the sides.
“I wouldn’t mess with magic, if I were you, Kaiba…” Pegasus said slowly, “Magic it – it – the Millennium Items – it’s all bad stuff. It – it ruined me – Warped my mind. It latches onto your heart’s desires and it – it makes you do anything to achieve it. Terrible, terrible things. I was bad, bad man…”
“Enough about magic,” Seto shut him down, but then offered a cold smile, “We brought you a gift.”
Pegasus perked up, immediately free of the gloom that’d overtook him.
“You got me a birthday present?” Pegasus asked.
Mokuba managed a smile of his own, glad to move past whatever strange energy Seto had ushered into the room. He hefted the briefcase up and laid it down atop the coffee table between them.
“You’re gonna love it,” Mokuba chirped as he unbuckled the case.
Pegasus sat up and scooted forward, eager to forget their previous conversation, and craned his neck to try and see into the briefcase as it was cracked open. The sip of wine still left in Pegasus’s glass was almost spilt across the coffee table, as he quickly sat it down to reach out his hands. The gift wasn’t wrapped, but Pegasus didn’t seem to care – his eye landed on the shiny new toy inside the case, and he lit up like a kid on Christmas.
“Ooh!” Pegasus exclaimed giddily.
The birthday boy wasted no time in pulling the VR headset from its case and ogling it. He turned it this way and that, admiring the glistening sheen of the visor that would set over the eyes. Mokuba did have to admit, the sleeker design they’d settled with looked a lot better than the giant, egg-shaped helmets the prototypes had sported. These would definitely sell better, and he figured he could talk Seto into designing and releasing other sorts of gamer gear to match it.
“It’s a specialized KaibaCorp Neuron virtual reality system headset, designed to function with just one eye’s field of vision!” Mokuba provided, “We haven’t launched the Crystal Cloud Network just yet, so it’s unable to link up for multiplayer experiences, but Seto included a few single player games to get you used to VR!”
“My, my, my, whata’ generous and thoughtful gift, boys!”
Mokuba wanted to tell him not to sound so surprised, but he held his tongue. This probably was the nicest thing they’d done for Pegasus, and they hadn’t even gift wrapped the box.
“I knew it was a good idea to sign onto all this whole virtual reality hollibaloo,” Pegasus smiled down at it, “Such exciting stuff. Really beyond imagination, or whatever your tag line was.”
“Reality beyond imagination,” Seto corrected through the same tight, cold smile.
“Anway, if you want to try it out, just strap it on! The belts should tighten in the back, and the power button is on the side,” Mokua said.
Pegasus, even as drunk as he was, managed to follow Mokuba’s instructions, and the blue LED’s in the sides of the visor lit up. Mokuba decided then that he should tell the hardware team to make the color of the lights customizable.
“The game menu should automatically come up,” Mokuba explained, “There’s a bunch of personal UI stuff to fill out, but since it’s not online, you can just go ahead and select a game.”
“How do I…”
“Just think about it,” Seto said flatly.
“Huh?”
“Surely you’ve read our advertisements.”
“Oh, well I… Y’know I usually skip commercials…”
Seto took a deep breath, “Our VR headsets function without the requirement for external controllers. It reacts to the users’ brainwaves. All you have to do is think about performing an action, and your virtual avatar will do it.”
“Try selecting ‘Basics Bash’,” Mokuba recommended, “It’ll teach you the very ba-“
“Whoops,” Pegasus said, “I think it selected the other one.”
Mokuba frowned, and sighed. Pegasus was drunk, so it made sense that his brain waves were a bit askew.
“What other games are on it, Seto?” Mokuba asked Seto.
But Seto didn’t immediately answer.
“Oh, it’s um…” Pegasus slowly moved his head around, obviously studying his virtual surroundings, “A theater o sorts…”
Mokuba glanced up at Seto, then turned his confused gaze towards Pegasus, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s um… Got curtains n’ lights, n’ um… Seats…”
“I don’t remember a game like that in our library…” Again, Mokuba cast a look up to Seto.
“Well, it’s not a very good game…” Pegasus muttered to himself, “Nothin’s happening…”
“Sure it is,” Seto said.
Pegasus frowned, “Don’t know what you consider a fun time, but…”
Seto crossed his arms and smirked, “This little game is what I call ‘Stage of the Mind’s Eye.’”
Both Pegasus and Mokuba directed a look towards him, though Pegasus was looking a little to the left of where Pegasus sat, due to not actually being able to see anything but the virtual world in the headset.
“Are you sure you didn’t steal that name from a Duel Monster card?” Pegasus asked.
Seto’s smug smile dimmed.
“Oh, wait!” Pegasus suddenly exclaimed, “The lights went out!”
“Because the show’s starting,” Seto said, “I call it the Stage of the Mind’s Eye, because anything your brain can think up, can be manifested there, on that stage. And I mean anything. And anyone.”
The headset obscured most of Pegasus’s face. Even still, a tangible tension filled the room as Pegasus stared ahead, towards the source of Seto’s voice.
“VR takes what was once purely visual and makes it into a fully immersive experience, all but undistinguishable from our physical reality. Sight, sound, and now, touch – all made possible by linking VR to the conscious mind – can all be sculpted by our minds. We have the power to shape reality as we know it. Isn’t that amazing?”
“That’s…” Pegasus mumbled, “That’s quite the power…”
“It’s the power you’ve invested in,” Seto said, “I wanted you to see what kind of magic you could have at your fingertips.”
“I don’t know if I’m quite in the right headspace, for that, right now…”
“Well, thankfully I’ve went to the liberty of designing something for you,” Seto said, “Sit back. Relax. And imagine the capabilities of what I’m describing. The Crystal Cloud Network will connect us to other minds from anywhere in the world.”
Mokuba’s mouth felt dry as his nervous eyes wandered up towards Seto, beside him.
“It could even connect us to minds from other worlds, if the right source is tapped,” Seto continued, very conversationally, “Imagine connecting to people that have already passed on from this one.”
Shock hit Mokuba the same moment it hit Pegasus, but while it stayed shock for Mokuba, Pegasus’s quickly smoldered into something a lot more volatile. He immediately began to fumble with the VR’s latch behind his head.
“You can’t be serious, Kaiba,” Pegasus snapped, “This isn’t funny!”
“It’s not supposed to be a joke. I’m serious.”
“Get this thing off me, right this instant!”
Seto did not move to do so, and he simply watched on, as Pegasus’s anger froze on his face. The scarlet sequins on Pegasus’s suit coat shimmered as he twisted himself around to look at something only he could see, inside the visor. The blush from the wine drained from what was visible of his face. And then he was on his feet, babbling and frantically trying to undo the latch, which was now tangled in his hair. The alcohol in Pegasus’s system was probably making the smooth plastic all the harder to grasp, and the frantic, jittery movements of his hands probably made it impossible to navigate the strap out of the simple buckle, and out from his hair.
Mokuba had no idea what Pegasus’s eye was seeing, but he didn’t have to, to know that it was bad. He turned to his older brother and tugged on his brother’s arm.
“Seto, make this stop, right now. I don’t know what you did but this isn’t cool.”
Pegasus was crying.
“Seto!” Mokuba began to demand, but he was interrupted by a loud, sharp, crack.
The latch on the VR headset wasn’t undone, so much as it was torn from Pegasus’s head. Pegasus ripped the visor away from his face, and just moment later, expensive bits of hardware scattered across the floor. Strands of his silver hair, still caught in the plastic fastener, shone amongst the shattered remains of the visor.
Pegasus snapped himself upright again. His one eye, visible through the errant strands of his hair, was streaming tears, even as it stared watery daggers at Seto.
“Get out,” Pegasus’s voice was low and weak, and the hand he pointed at the door trembled in the air, “Right. Now.”
Pegasus’s chest was heaving as he teetered on the edge of sobbing, but Seto was unmoved. Seto’s face hadn’t moved an inch, even as Mokuba looked up at him, horrified. Seto did, however, move to follow Pegasus’s orders. Without a word, he stood, slipped his briefcase off the table, and started towards the door.
“Come on, Mokuba,” Seto’s eyes moved towards Pegasus one last time, before he shoved off towards the door, “He’s drunk and obviously not thinking clearly.”
Before the door could close behind them, Mokuba cast a look back over his shoulder. Pegasus had collapsed back down into the chair, with his head was in his hands, and his shoulders shaking as he wept.
Mokuba wanted to say sorry. But Seto was waiting for him, and such an apology wouldn’t bring any comfort to anyone. So, the door slipped closed on Maximillion Pegasus, drunk, and helplessly lost in his despair.
~
During his time with Pegasus, Shadi had managed to unlock many feelings and emotions that had been lost from him. Some good, some bad – he’d learned to accept guilt beside hope, and fear alongside love.
For an indistinguishable amount of time, Shadi had walked along the river, mourning the loss of the love he’d come to carry within him. A funeral march – mourning himself and missing his companion, friend, and lover. In those silent, lonely stretches of time, he longed to hear another voice, and found himself dearly missing those hour-long tirades about animated shows he would never watch.
It was during this time that a new emotion found its way to him, through the reeds.
Impatience.
In three thousand years of solitude, impatience had not found him waiting down in the long-forgotten tunnels in Egypt. And it had not found him during multiple, weekend-long Funny Bunny rerun marathons. Patience was literally one of the core pillars of his personality that he and Pegasus had personally identified.
And yet, here impatience was – consuming him, body, mind, and soul.
At one time, he’d feared that he’d possessed no soul of his own; that he was no more than some hollow thing meant to serve out fate and dole out punishment on behalf of the Millennium Items. But he’d proven to himself that he was more than just a duty. His heart wasn’t empty; he had memories, locked though they may be, and he had desires. He had wants, and needs, and feelings! Which he felt now! And on top of all of that, Hasan’s soul resided within him, now, too. He had a heart to weigh, damn it – a heart that deserved finality, be it in paradise or hell.
And if he wasn’t going to be escorted to the scales, then he was escorting himself elsewhere else. He didn’t know where. But he’d grown tired of walking by the river, and decided to turn himself ninety degrees and start walking into the desert.
He’d managed to make it up exactly one dune, before a strange animalistic cry met his ears. Shadi stopped, and turned, to look back down the dune the way he’d come.
And he discovered that the source of the sound was…
An Ostrich.
The sheer oddity of the situation froze him in place, and he watched the giant bird jog up on its long, scaled legs, came to a halt on the sand, and stare directly at him. Shadi stared right back at it. It squawked – Shadi jumped.
The ostrich jerked its head to the side, blinked its large, yellow eyes at him, and squawked again.
Shadi continued to back away, even as the bird repeated the motion.
“I am seeing things,” Shadi muttered to himself.
The bird squawked again, louder.
Shadi flinched again, “Hearing things…”
The bird continued to make weird chirping noises at him, and he grimaced.
“Yes, yes,” He cooed at it, as he backed away, “That is a good bird… You stay right there… And I will be on my way…”
It started to run at him.
Shadi did not have a fear of birds. In fact, he thought that he’d rather liked them. The ibis and the heron were elegant in the water, songbirds put chipper tunes in the air, and sparrows and finches were cute enough as they hopped and flittered about.
Ostriches, however; he quickly discovered that he didn’t like Ostriches. They were a lot larger than he’d thought, had the legs of a dinosaur, and had a stare more intimidating than his. It didn’t help that the bird stood nearly three feet taller than he.
Before Shadi had made it but a few quick strides away, the Ostrich had run up and around him, to deliberately cut him off. He froze, took a defensive posture, and grit his teeth. The bird stared at him, unblinking. After a few tense moments, it stretched its neck forward, though not directly at Shadi, and squawked again.
Shadi narrowed his eyes.
It repeated the motion and the squawk.
He glanced back over his shoulder, and saw that the Ostrich was gesturing back towards the Nile. Immediately, the apprehension drained off of Shadi’s face, and when he turned back towards the Ostrich, he looked thoroughly unamused.
“So, now you’ve come to fetch me?” He asked the bird, which only stared at him in return.
The bird nodded and such clear communication would’ve been quite amazing, if he were not certain that this was some sort of special, spirit bird, sent by some deity that hadn’t seen fit to send a measly life-jacket floating down the river for him.
“And will my ride to the Halls of Du’at be there, when I return?” Shadi asked the bird, expectantly.
The Ostrich managed to make itself look somewhat uncomfortable with the reptilian features it possessed. It did not nod.
“Ah. So, I am to sit by the river and wait, then?”
The Ostrich nodded.
“Too bad.”
Shadi surprised himself with the vitriol that accompanied the sentiment, though it hadn’t felt wrong. He was angry. He was tired. And as he turned, and looked that Ostrich straight in its eyes, he realized that he wasn’t wrong to feel that way. He stood up to his full height of 5’6”, and pointed a finger at the bird.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for my rest?” Shadi demanded of it, “Three-thousand years! Three-thousand years I’ve done nothing but wait, and do you know how many of those years I spent a wandering spirit, with no memories, or desires, or personality of my own? Too many! I sacrificed everything – my heart, my mind, my soul – happiness, kindness, love – everything – for the Pharaoh, for the world, and now you are going to tell me that it is too much to ask for a ride to Judgement?”
The Ostrich… Looked somewhat troubled by all this.
“I’ve sacrificed all that I am and all that I was for the balance of the world, and the gods cannot even be bothered to send for me? Bullshit!”
Shadi clenched his fists and probably would’ve stomped the ground, if he weren’t too impassioned to even think about moving.
“I have never once demanded anything for myself, but, now, I demand common courtesy! I am not going to be sat on the side of the river for an eternity, just to be forgotten, and overlooked! I am done being a tool for the gods to shove around! If they cannot be bothered to deal with me, then I cannot be bothered to deal with them! I am going back to the material plane, where I know at least one person has need of me!”
And with that, Shadi turned heel, and began to march away from the beastlike bird, and back up the dune he intended to cross.
Not a moment later did his cloak tighten around his neck. It was pulled taught, and he was wrenched backwards. The Ostrich had whipped out its long neck, and bit down on his cloak. Its beak held the linen steadfast, and effortlessly, it began to walk back towards the Nile, pulling Shadi, kicking and swearing behind it.
“Unhand me!” He railed against it, and railed even harder when it did not see fit to do what it was told.
He tried to dig his heels into the sand, and he tried to grab hold of the strange, beautiful flowers that grew out of the desert sands, but it was just sand – not compact enough to stall his forced movement, or cling to the roots of the flowers. The Ostrich trotted along, unbothered by its unwilling cargo, and the cloak held true, tough beyond its years of wear.
“I am not going back there!” Shadi cried, pulling on his own cape, to try and tear it free from the bird, “You had your chance! I will not be ignored! I worked too hard and gave up too much to just be forgotten!”
Shadi grit his teeth and put all of his focus into pulling himself free of his avian captor.
“I am going back to the world where I know that someone will have me!”
And suddenly the tension was gone. There was a flash of warm, yellow light in his eyes, and suddenly his throat wasn’t constricted. There was no Ostrich pulling him back towards the Nile.
There was no Nile.
There was nothing.
~
“Get Ms. Phillips in the first aid room,” Croquet barked into his mic, “I can’t tell if he’s having a panic attack or alcohol poisoning, either way he’s incoherent and breathing funny.”
Affirmatives and ‘Rodger that’s’ were buzzing in Croquet’s ear as he bent down and scooped Pegasus up. He’d carried Pegasus countless times before – and while his nephew had kept getting taller, he was still so easy to lift.
Notes:
I really liked how this chap turned out but ooh boy
Chapter Text
“What the fuck just happened in there?!”
“Watch your language,” Seto said smoothly.
What had transpired with Pegasus hadn’t ruffled Seto at all. He’d batted an eye, sure, when Pegasus had screamed and tried to claw his way out of the virtual reality he was in, but it hadn’t seemed to bother him, at all. He’d walked out of Pegasus’s manor as if nothing had happened, gotten in the helicopter without a word, and asked Mokuba if he had any tutoring tomorrow.
Mokuba shook his head in disbelief, “I can say fuck, alright? Especially after what just happened!”
“We offered Pegasus a gift. He was simply too drunk to appreciate it.”
“You snuck a program onto the Neuron! What did you show him?!”
“Please, stop yelling, Mokuba.”
Mokuba lowered his voice, but he couldn’t keep the anger out of it, “What did you show him that made him break down like that?”
Seto directed his steely gaze out of the window, and was quiet, for a few moments.
“I showed him what I know he wanted to see,” Kaiba said, as even and steely as usual, “I honestly don’t know why he reacted the way that he did. I was hoping to convince him of the power I could harness with the Neuron system, and get him to sign on as a consultant.”
Mokuba narrowed his eyes at his brother, “A consultant for what, exactly?”
“The incorporation of magic into the Crystal Cloud system mainframe,” Seto answered, “Though, if it’s as easy as he claims, I wouldn’t have needed him, anyway.”
“Magic? Seto, you hated magic! Wh-what are you even talking about?”
“I hated the idea of magic, yes,” Seto’s icy blue eyes moved back and settled heavily upon his brother, “But I’ve come to recognize it for what it is; another power source that can be harnessed and utilized. Yugi managed it. Ishizu managed it. Her insane brother managed it. Hell, Pegasus mastered it. So, it can’t be too hard.”
It wasn’t the turbulence or the movement of the helicopter that was making Mokuba feel nauseous. It wasn’t even the fact that he hadn’t had dinner, the lingering smell of wine, or the memory of the haunting sound of a grown man crying in despair.
Mokuba could only shake his head, “If Pegasus pulls his license out of KiabaCorp over this –“
“He won’t,” Seto looked back out of the window and crossed his legs, “He needs us. Duel Monsters needs us more than it needs him. Besides. He was so blitzed I doubt he’ll even remember the details…”
~
“Alright, now, how are we feeling?”
Ms. Phillips soft voice had helped soothe Pegasus back down from the absolute state he’d been found in. After being dropped off in the first aid room, throwing up his birthday cake and a bottle of wine, and sobbing himself to hysterics and back, he’d finally returned to some semblance of normal. Pegasus laid on the examination table, propped up with a glass of cold water in his hands. He shifted his head to look up at the Doctor beside him.
“Bad,” He answered with a hoarse voice, “I feel really bad.”
Ms. Phillips laid a cool cloth over his forehead, and nodded gently. It’d take more than a few hours for him to feel better.
“Take it easy for a few more minutes. We’ll get you up to bed soon. I’m going to step out into the hallway for a moment, if you need me, just tell Leroy, here, and I’ll come running back.”
She nodded to the security guard in the room, and stepped out, where Croquet was standing in the hall. She quietly closed the door behind herself, and joined him.
“How is he?” Croquet asked.
“He was very drunk but not poisoned. I believe he suffered a panic attack,” She looked up at the man, “I didn’t think he had a history of those.”
“He doesn’t,” Croquet answered gruffly.
“Do you have any idea what brought this on?”
“Greg said that he went into a room with the Kaibas. The Kaibas left, he went to check on Max, and found him how you did.”
“The Kaibas?”
“Two brothers, from Japan, heads of the Kaiba Corporation. They’re business associates. Complicated history. They have a tolerance for Max, but not a high one.”
“So, these Kaiba brothers get Mr. Pegasus alone for ten minutes, and drive him into a full-fledged panic attack. Just what the hell did they do to him?”
Croquet only shook his head, and looked back at the door. His thick glasses and moustache hid most of his expression, but even Ms. Phillips could tell that he was deeply troubled by the situation. She sighed, and turned back to the door.
“I’d give it a while before asking him what happened,” Ms. Phillips said before she pushed in the door, “We don’t want to trigger it again.”
Pegasus was in much the same spot as he was before, except the level of water in his glass was a little lower. Ms. Phillips put on a smile as she approached him, and turned to the two guards.
“If you’re feeling stable enough now, Mr. Pegasus, we can escort you to your room,” She said gently.
He nodded, and with great care and no rush, Croquet helped him up the stairs and to the master bedroom.
“Would you like me to run you a bath, sir?” Croquet asked.
“No, I think I’d just like to sleep…”
“Do you need fresh water?”
“No…” Pegasus leaned back and curled up on his side.
“…Or your sleepwear, sir?”
Pegasus was still in his party clothes, though the ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ sash and sequined suit coat had been left behind in the first aid room. His undershirt was unbuttoned, and his sequin pants were still on, as were his shoes and socks. At the question, Pegasus started to kick off his shoes. They hit the floor with two dull thuds, and Croquet let out a long, silent sigh, as Pegasus curled in on himself tighter, and made no indication of further undressing.
“Alright, sir. If you need me, page me,” Croquet said, “Goodnight, sir.”
The bodyguard had already started away, when the sound of a soft cry stayed his feet. He froze in place, though he hesitated to turn around.
There had been a time, long ago, where Pegasus had turned to him for advice, comfort, and all of the fatherly things a parent was supposed to say and do. He’d taught Pegasus how to tie his shoes; how to drive a car. He’d been to every graduation – kindergarten through Business School – and he’d been the only attendant to see Pegasus get his B.A. in Fine Art. He’d given Pegasus dating advice – he was there for the wedding. He was there for the funeral, and he was there for the tears and the grief, after.
All that had stopped when Pegasus had went on his world wide hunt for happiness – for distraction.
Pegasus had returned from Egypt, but the Pegasus that Croquet knew had never made it back home.
Croquet slowly turned back, and cast a tired look back at Pegasus through the thick lens of his glasses. The Pegasus he knew had slowly reappeared, though – that quiet, sensitive kid who loved his crayons almost as much as he loved his cartoons. Without a word, Croquet walked back towards Pegasus’s bed, and took a seat by Pegasus’s feet. He put his hands on his knees, and sat there, content to simply be there. If Pegasus wanted to talk, he would talk. And if Pegasus wanted him gone, he’d get kicked. Croquet was ready for either.
Neither came, not for a long while. But eventually, Pegasus’s tears had all leaked out, and his haggard breaths had steadied. After the silence, he let an uneven sigh escape him.
“This – is quite possibly one of the worst birthdays I’ve ever had,” Pegasus managed to say.
“One of them, sir?”
“Mm-hm. Do you – do you remember my fifth birthday?”
“That was forever ago.”
A foot hit Croquet’s elbow, “I’m not that old.”
“Was it the one at the aquarium?”
“No, that was my seventh birthday.”
“Then was it the one at that ranch?”
“It was.”
Croquet thought back, and after a minute, the memories came floating back to him, and he shook his head as the image of a red faced, teary eyed little Maximillion came back to him.
“The pony had nipped your arm.”
“That four-legged bastard bit my arm, completely unprovoked!” Pegasus’s laugh was watery, but it was a relief to hear, “Completely ruined my day. My mother has a picture of me crying over my cake, if she kept it,” He fell silent, for a few long moments, before he chuckled again, “And then there was my tenth birthday.”
“Now that one I remember. ‘Funny Bunny’ couldn’t make it to that one.”
“Not until the very end, and by that point, I’d worked myself into a tizzy.”
Croquet smiled to himself, and looked off at the far side of the room, at nothing in particular. The character actor’s car had broken down on the way to the party. Croquet had driven out of the city to pick him up, but by the time Croquet had gotten the poor man back to the party, Pegasus had grown inconsolable.
“And then there was my seventeenth birthday…”
The smile slipped from Croquet’s face.
“I think this one might contend with that one…”
Croquet hesitated. But he finally asked, “What did they say to you, tonight, Max?”
Pegasus took a deep, uneven breath, and curled up tighter, “They ruined months’ worth of therapy, is what they did… Croquet?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Make sure they’re not on the list for my next birthday party.”
“…Will do, sir.”
~
For all the alcohol still floating around in his bloodstream, sleep was still incredibly hard to come by. His heart was heavy – heavier than his eyelid, and he kept snapping awake to blink tears from his eye and shudder beneath his blankets. He wasn’t even sure if nightmares were to blame – he couldn’t remember what had been going on behind his eyes before he was conscious and the memories of the evening were back in the forefront.
How had Kaiba even discovered what she had looked like?
Pegasus hugged his plush rabbit tighter and buried his face in the faux fur of its head, between the ears. In the end, he hadn’t told Croquet what he’d seen. He couldn’t tell anyone, because if he allowed himself to recall her image – he didn’t want to think about what it would do to him. He didn’t want to think about her. He just wanted to sleep.
But loneliness wrapped its cold arms around him. His bed felt like a sea – vast, empty, and cold – and he was lost and alone within it.
He shut his eyes, and remembered how that hadn’t been the case, just less than a year ago.
Then, there was a flash of light.
Pegasus startled to attention, and his eye darted around the room to find the source of the sudden flash. His bedroom laid dark, and undisturbed, though it didn’t put him any more at ease. The light had been bright enough to hit his eyes through his eyelid, so it must’ve been lightning. His feet were unsteady beneath him as he swayed up and out of bed. If it had been lightning, then he needed to shut his window, lock the veranda door down, and pull the blackout curtains closed.
His hand closed around the curtains, but stilled, as he looked up through the glass door.
It was not storming. The autumn sky was crystal clear, and the moon and all her stars greeted his puffy, sleepy eye, and the confusion behind it. He put a hand against the glass to steady himself, and peered up into the sky.
There was a shooting star.
It was bright and distant, trailing across the sky, a world away from him. A tired, wistful smile found its way onto his face as he watched it fall, carving a gentle curve of light behind it. He supposed that he should make a wish. He hadn’t made one when he’d blown out the candles on his cake, at the party, so maybe this was the world’s way of giving him one last chance to get a wish out there. It was still his birthday, after all.
He closed his eye and thought about it for a moment. All wishes presented a dilemma – does one wish for the impossible and hope against the odds, or wish on something practical, and admire the magic if and when the mundane came to pass?
Pegasus was Pegasus, however, so after a few moments, he wished for the impossible.
When he opened his eye, he found that the shooting star had not diminished.
Which was odd.
He was pretty sure astronomical events usually only lasted a few seconds, at the most. Granted, he hadn’t been stargazing in quite a while. He stared up at it with a puzzled expression weighing on his face.
His frown deepened – the falling star seemed to be… Getting closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, Pegasus stood there, frozen, watching the impossible light grow closer and closer to Duelist Kingdom. He just couldn’t seem to wrap his sad, alcohol-soaked mind around what he was seeing.
The falling star illuminated the valley, and with his eye glazed over in awe, Pegasus watched it slow as it descended. It was just a little ball of pure light. And though it lit up the castle grounds like a miniature sun, Pegasus couldn’t find the fear to run or the capacity to question his reality within the exhaustion that comprised him – not even when the glowing ball of light touched down on his veranda.
On the other side of the glass door, the light took on human shape. In the instant the light blinked out, Shadi was left standing there, looking just as confused as Pegasus should have been.
Pegasus blinked the remainder of the starlight from his eye and put his palm up on the glass between them. It was like a dream. This couldn’t be real.
Shadi raised a hand and laid it upon the glass before Pegasus’s and smiled.
And Pegasus promptly fainted.
~
Shadi had probably never moved as fast as he did when Pegasus dropped like he’d been shot, nor had he ever felt as strong as he did when he’d picked up Pegasus and shuttled him to his bed. Before panic could hit the ghost, the other stirred, coming back to some form of consciousness.
Though it was an absolute delight to see him, Shadi conceded that Pegasus looked bad. Was he hungover? Sick? What had possibly put those bags under his eyes, or that gaunt look in his face? He was pale – unkempt. Something was clearly wrong.
Shadi let out a sigh of relief when Pegasus’s eye opened to him again. He brushed the stray strands of hair back from Pegasus’s face. His hand lingered by the side of Pegasus’s face, and in an attempt to keep Pegasus alert and focused, Shadi rubbed his thumb over his cheek.
“Are you alright?” Shadi asked, “Are you hurt? Is Ms. Philips still here to tend to you?”
Pegasus’s eye was glossy but he was awake enough to raise his hands. Shadi immediately took them up, and let them press against his chest, just like they wanted to. Once there, they clung to the fabric of his cloak, and feebly tried to pull him closer.
Shadi did not resist, nor argue when he was pulled onto the bed beside Pegasus, and when Pegasus curled into him, to bury his face in the ghost’s chest and cry, he held back his concerns and simply let Pegasus spill his emotions. No more words made it out of Pegasus that night; they simply couldn’t find their way through the alcohol, emotions, and exhaustion. Eventually his sobbing fell to crying, crying calmed into sniffling, and the sniffling faded into silent, steady breaths, leaving Shadi alone with a mess of thoughts in his head.
He ran his fingers through Pegasus’s hair, eyes wide open to the dark room, mind whirring.
Had the gods actually heard him and taken pity? Had he been sent back as he’d wished, or had he been tossed out, rejected from the chance at eternal rest in Du’at? Was this a gift or a punishment? The Millennium Key had not returned to him, so what force allowed him to persist now? How long would it last? Would he fade in the hours to come, or would he persist forever, doomed to an eternity wandering a humanity he didn’t belong to?
As if sensing the turmoil swirling around in Shadi’s head, Pegasus stirred, and Shadi’s hands stilled in his hair. Pegasus didn’t wake, thankfully, settling back down with his face against the ghost’s chest. Shadi sighed, and made himself close his eyes and calm his mind.
There was no point in asking himself questions he couldn’t answer. Whatever would happen would happen, and he would just have to press on, until rest found him. For the moment, for the hour, for the night, he would simply allow himself to be thankful to be holding love so close.
Notes:
The original and only reason I headcannoned Croquet as related to Pegasus is because their parts the same way lol
Chapter 7: Impossibility
Summary:
The impossible comes to pass.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Shadi awoke to the presence of two hands on either side of his face, and Pegasus’s face just an inch from his own.
Pegasus was fully conscious now, after sleeping off whatever stupor he’d fallen into the previous night. His eye, though bloodshot from the tears he’d cried, was lazar focused on Shadi’s.
Shadi smiled gently, “Good morning, Max.”
“Are you real?”
Pegasus’s voice was hoarse from the long night behind it. Pegasus rubbed his thumbs over the triangles on the upper curves of Shadi’s cheeks, feeling the smile still sitting between them.
“I am,” Shadi answered softly.
“How?”
“Well… It has been an interesting journey, to say the least, but I will not subject you to it now, unless you are terribly eager to hear it. One might believe that bridging the gap between this world and the next would be fraught with dangers and excitements, but death was actually rather uninteresting.”
Pegasus blinked, bringing tears to his eye again.
“All I did was wait for my gods to come and collect me,” Shadi continued, “But would you believe me if I told you that I became impatient? Me, tired of waiting?”
Pegasus’s tears began to spill anew, and Shadi cupped the other’s face, mirroring his touch.
“Why do you cry, Max? I am real, and I am here.”
“I’ve just missed your voice,” Pegasus croaked out, before pressing himself up against the ghost again, “I’ve missed you!”
Shadi’s smile softened, but broadened, and he squeezed Pegasus tight, resting his cheek upon the other’s hair, “I’ve missed you too.”
~
The beveled glass of the shower door made the world beyond it a blurry mosaic, yet through the glass and the steam that coated it, Pegasus could make out the shape of Shadi, still sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter, where he’d been left. Pegasus rubbed his eye, blinked, and took one last lingering look at the man on his counter, before finally going about washing his hair.
He told himself not to look again. If the shower washed away the fantasy in his head, so be it. He’d get out and go on with his life, somehow. As he lathered his rose-scented shampoo into his hair, he told himself not to hope, either way.
Sure – ‘impossible’ had never been definitive. At one time, magic had been ‘impossible.’ Ghosts had been ‘impossible.’ Resurrection, alternate dimensions, gods, afterlives – he’d considered it all ‘impossible.’
And then he’d met Shadi, in the desert, and had ‘impossible’ happen.
But Shadi’s presence, here, now, sitting on the counter in his bathroom, should have been truly impossible. He’d noticed that the ghost was no longer in possession of the Millennium Key when he’d pressed his face against the other’s chest and didn’t smack his head against the cold, metal object in the process. There was no plausible explanation for Shadi’s appearance. By Pegasus’s calculations, Shadi had now died at least three times.
That’s why he refused to get his hopes up; because honestly, what was more believable? The spirit of his lover returning after months of being dead three times over? Or Kaiba’s VR nightmare sending his already addled mind into psychosis?
Eventually he had to exit existential limbo.
A cloud of steam escaped the shower as Pegasus cracked the door open. He pulled his towel in past the door and gently pressed it against his face. When he pushed the damp hair out of his face, he finally looked up and set his eyes on the counter, again.
Shadi was still there, sitting and waiting for him.
Pegasus felt the breath he’d been holding escape him. He wrapped the towel around his waist, and carefully stepped out of the shower. He walked up and moved between Shadi’s legs, just to look up into the ghost’s face. Shadi tilted his head and offered him a gentle smile in return. Shadi’s face was exactly as Pegasus remembered it; blue eyes, thick kohl… Peculiar little triangles.
Perhaps what was ‘impossible’ had simply changed again.
Pegasus raised his head and closed his eye. Despite the steam in the warm room, the lips that met his were cold and unearthly.
“You must tell me everything,” Pegasus said quietly, “I need to know every detail, however small. I need to know, beyond any shadow of any doubt, that you are really here and really real.”
“But of course. Every detail will be yours,” Shadi said gently, “Though you should probably get dressed… It is a long story, and your towel has slipped.”
For the first time in a very long time, Pegasus actually felt like dolling himself up. He selected a beautiful designer sweater and a jacket to match it. Each hair and skin product on his vanity saw its turn serving his person, and when he finally stood up to face the day, he was glowing – shiny and new and on top of the world. Pegasus tugged on the lapels of his jacket, swished his hair over his shoulder, and flashed Shadi a grin. Maximillion Pegasus was back and so was the soul of his ghostly lover, and both were about to make an appearance.
Down in the ballroom, a few maids were already busy picking up the fun from the night before – throwing out trash, popping balloons, sweeping confetti into neat piles on the marble floor. The heavier lifting – tables, chairs, various photoshoot props – would be left to the guards, who were probably all getting breakfast.
Shadi cast an inquiring look out at the ballroom, especially at the half-destroyed balloon Eiffel Tower, but Pegasus continued on, eager to find his butler and doctor in the employee dining room. There were two dining rooms, of course. The sweeping dining room with the crown molding and giant, mahogany table was still in need of cleaning, and the much smaller, but still rather nice employee dining room. Pegasus briefly wondered where he would have his breakfast – such a concern probably hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind, considering he hadn’t been one to actually eat breakfast, lately.
“I assume I missed some festivities?” Shadi asked, glancing back at the ballroom as they passed it.
“You’ve missed quite a lot, my dear!” Pegasus chuckled, “But yes, yesterday was my birthday. Quite the party, from what I can remember of it.”
“From what you can remember,” Shadi echoed.
Pegasus wished that he had forgotten all of it, but alas, when he’d awoken, the memories of the Kaiba’s and their augmented-reality torture were still with him.
“I might have gone through a bit more wine than I’d meant to, last night,” Pegasus explained in a sheepish voice, “I’m 26, now, I should leave my nights of wild splendor behind me. Simply irresponsible, I know.”
Pegasus hoped that Shadi would buy his excuse and not look into it. The last thing he wanted was to spoil Shadi’s first day back on the physical plane, or his own good mood. Sure, yesterday evening he tried to drown his anxieties in wine, but he was better, today. He had his ghost, a clear schedule, and leftover birthday cake to get to.
Shadi stepped up beside him as they walked along, hand in hand, “I apologize that I did not arrive in time to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.”
Pegasus forced his smile to remain on his face – it didn’t feel good to lie to Shadi. Despite how conflicted it made him feel, he was relieved that the other didn’t possess the Millennium Items necessary to detect his half-truths and white lies.
“I would have enjoyed it more with you around,” Pegasus answered jovially, “But you’re excused – this time.”
He nudged Shadi with his elbow – well, he tried to, at least. His elbow went through the ghost’s arm. Shadi didn’t seem to notice.
“I will have to make it up to you,” Shadi said, and offered a smile up to him.
Pegasus squeezed the ghost’s hand, which was solid, and his smile returned, “You already have.”
Croquet, Ms. Philips, and a few other staff members were collecting their breakfast plates from the severing table. A few staff members were already seated. Pegasus stepped into the doorway, but gestured for Shadi to remain in the hallway. Shadi narrowed his eyes but did so, waiting silently. Pegasus then turned, puffed out his chest, and beamed at everyone in the room.
“Good morning everyone!”
His employees turned their heads and blinked at him, all displaying differing level of surprise. Pegasus wasn’t surprised by their surprise; this appearance was out of character, after all. Pegasus never ventured into the employee areas, and he hadn’t woken up in time for the regular breakfast service in months. Additionally – embarrassingly – Pegasus also realized that everyone had probably been alerted to his condition, the previous night. Word tended to spread fast, on the island, considering the close proximity and small payroll.
Honestly, even he was surprised that he was up. Could joy overturn a hangover?
Croquet was the only one who looked worried, and considering the state he’d last seen Pegasus in last night... Well, the concern wasn’t all that shocking. Ms. Philips looked Pegasus over with a bit of the same worry, but she also wore relief on her tired face.
“Pegasus?” Ms. Philips walked up with her plate of scrambled eggs to greet him, “I’m surprised to see you up so early, considering… Well. But I’m glad to see you up. How are you feeling?”
“Fit as a fiddle, Ms. Philips!” Pegasus chirped, “I might not have had the best birthday experience, last night, but –“
He pulled Shadi in from the doorway, and the ghost came stumbling forward, into view of the small crowd. Pegasus gestured to him how a hostess would show off the fabulous grand prize on a gameshow.
“I did receive the best birthday present of all!”
Most of the crowd didn’t seem to know what to think about the gesture, or the robed man, standing before them, completely still like a deer in headlights, but his presence clearly meant something to Croquet and Ms. Philips.
Croquet’s mug of coffee hit the floor and shattered into a black pool at his feet – Ms. Philips breakfast almost slipped off her plate.
Shadi slowly raised a hand in greeting, “…Good morning.”
~
“And that is why I believe I am able to exist, here, without the aid of the Millennium Key.”
Pegasus slowly chewed on his breakfast, just staring blankly ahead at Shadi, as he had throughout the entire duration of the most convoluted story he’d ever heard. He had asked for every detail, and he’d received them, all over a hearty omelet and some mixed fruit.
Pegasus swallowed, and blinked like he’d just woken up, having realized that Shadi had finally finished his story.
“You think that you’re able to be here because you are actually this…” Pegasus waved his fork in the air, as if he could pin down his whirring thoughts with it, “…Super-human, Millennium Stone, man spirit, guy?”
“Hasan – yes.”
“Right, Hasan… Who is the Millennium Stone?”
“A spirit sealed within the Millennium Stone.”
“So, his spirit was in the Stone the entire time?”
“Yes, ever since the young Pharaoh’s father sealed him within it, some three or four thousand years ago. I am still unsure of the exact year it which it all took place.”
“And Yugi boy’s Pharoah’s father did this because why, again?”
“Because he wanted to ensure the safety of his son, having feared that the gods would curse his bloodline as punishment for the creation of the Millennium Items.”
“And Hasan agreed to this because… Why?”
“A sense of moral obligation?” Shadi tilted his head, “I am not sure why. I, or rather, he, has not been terribly forthcoming with access to our memories.”
Pegasus laid his fork down and frowned, “But I thought you were Hasan?”
“No, I am only partly Hasan. Or he is a part of me,” Shadi’s eyes fell to stare at the table, “I am unsure as to which one holds more true. Regardless, my soul has felt stronger since we have become one, and I believe that this newfound strength is fueling my existence, now, in place of the Millennium Key. I could be mistaken, however… It is quite possible that a different force sustains me, now.”
“All this talk of souls… To think I used to think the soul as one, untouchable, undividable thing. Just how many parts are there? Ka, Ba, Ren, Ib…”
Ka – the vital essence, the thing that gives us life and fuels the Ba. Ba – the unique qualities of each individual, which can be given solid shape, in the form of a monster or other aberration. Ren – the name, more precious than one could imagine. Ib – the heart, the seat of the soul.
“Sheut,” Shadi provided.
The shadow – the other you.
Perhaps that was the answer? Had his soul had been split by death – torn to the point where it could not survive on its own? Perhaps the Key had been serving as his Ka? If that were true, then how many parts did he contain now? Was Hasan now his Ka? Was Hasan his Ren? Was he both?
“Well, in any matter, in any form, in any capacity,” Pegasus’s hand found Shadi’s atop the table between them, “I’m happy to have you back by my side.”
And Shadi was glad to be back.
He took up his old place on Duelist Kingdom, quickly resuming ‘life’ as he’d ‘lived’ it before the Pharoah’s final shadow game against Zorc. He’d sit and pose for his portraits, read books in the library, watch movies in the theater, and walk along the paths that meandered the island, enjoying nature’s scenery. All of this he did with Pegasus by his side, or at the very least, a short distance away.
Pegasus clung to him for about a week straight, completely inseparable. Shadi did not blame him, of course – even he feared that he might spontaneously find himself back in the afterlife or in a state of nonexistence. Perhaps physically holding onto him wouldn’t tether his soul down, if it were called, but if it made Pegasus feel better, Shadi would gladly lend him a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, or a lap to lay on.
The absence of the Millennium Key had only affected a few things, that he noticed. He couldn’t slip into Pegasus’s dreams, anymore, and he couldn’t seem to muster the energy to teleport, anymore. His lack of energy also affected how long he could remain physical – he could only grasp physical objects unless he actively focused on doing so. Now, interacting with the physical world felt like more of a chore.
Still, his ghostly life on Earth was a much better alternative to the quiet isolation of Du’at.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about dying,” Pegasus said one night, as they lay together in bed.
The book Shadi held fell through his fingers, then through his face, down to the pillow. Before he could properly startle, Pegasus was already laughing, waving a hand, and rolling over to face him.
“Sorry, sorry, not like that!” Pegasus smiled, “Nothing like that. I was more thinking about death itself. Like, as a concept.”
Shadi eyed him, still weary, as he retrieved the book from beneath his head, “As a concept.”
“Yes. You died and went to Du’at, correct? There was a river, and the Pharoah’s soul boarded a boat, and sailed on, just like the ancient Egyptians believed.”
“Yes?”
“So,” Pegasus gestured to the air, “Were the Egyptians right? About everything? Should I start studying my Egyptology, again? Because I only remember about five of the forty-two Assessors, and if I’m going to pass Egyptian judgement, I have to get that number up, and I need to start now. And do I need to find a mortician well versed in mummification?”
“I should hope not,” Shadi said with a frown, “Because I doubt my body saw a proper funeral and it is a little too late for me.”
“You and literally the millions and billions of others who have already passed! Are they all damned to walk an eternity in the desert, too? Unable to stand trial?”
Shadi considered that a moment, before frowning, “The desert seemed to be rather baren of souls, when I walked it. Perhaps my fellow ancient Egyptians did not have life after death completely figured out?”
“Blasphemy!”
“Oh, come, now.”
“Perhaps that Ostrich targeted you for that blasphemous tongue.”
“Please – I fail see how that Ostrich had anything to do with the gods or judgement, or anything.”
Shadi felt Pegasus’s eyes upon him, and he turned to face him.
“What?” Shadi demanded of that accusatory look.
“Shadi, my dear sweet Shadi-boy, I’m fairly certain that Ostrich was a proxy of Ma’at.”
Shadi stared at him, blankly, and Pegasus stared back, bewildered.
“Shadi, the feather used in Judgement is an Ostrich feather – she wears an Ostrich feather in every single depiction of her.”
“Oh,” Shadi’s eyes widened, and he put a hand to his head, “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no, is right! Shadi! What did you say to that Ostrich?”
“Pegasus, I cannot go back to Du’at.”
Pegasus laughed at the absurdity, “Oh, my God, how did you not put that together, earlier?”
“Why should I have?”
“Shadi. A magical Ostrich? Ma’at?” Pegasus implored, grinning helplessly with disbelief, “She uses an Ostrich feather to weigh hearts on the scales. Shadi, you literally performed judgements with the Millennium Scale using a magical feather! It should have been a dead giveaway!”
Shadi covered his face, “The feather I used was composed of pure, arcane energy. It did not come from an Ostrich.”
“Shadi.”
“How was I to know?”
“Are you even Egyptian?” Pegasus laughed, finding the conversation as funny as it was baffling.
Shadi elbowed him in the arm, unable to be insulted with the other giggling as he was. He sat up and loomed over the other man.
“You look at me and tell me I am not Egyptian. Look at me.”
Pegasus did look up at him, smile wide and eye so fond, but he was obviously too amused to take the demand seriously. He reached up and tapped the other’s looped earrings, just to make them sway back and forth.
“You are something else,” Shadi sighed, giving up.
“Are you sure you aren’t, too?” Pegasus laughed.
~
It was 2:00 AM and Seto was at his desk, alone in the dark, restless eyes scanning his email.
His inbox was currently full of excuses, and not much else.
Seto sat back, crossed his arms, and sighed heavily.
The team dedicated to building his space needle had been much more confident in their ability to carry out his plans, than the team dedicated to finding the Sanctuary where Yugi had dueled the Pharoah. The projected construction date for the space needle was much more reasonable than the projected excavation date for the site of the Millennium Puzzle. He chalked it up to the two different crews; one team was composed of the world’s most elite astrophysicists and aerospace engineers, and the other played around in the dirt for a living.
But, if anyone was good at making the impossible happen, it was Seto. With the right people and a few billion dollars to motivate them, he’d found that the impossible tended to become rather possible.
He would make the archelogy crew meet his impossible deadline. All he had to do was pay off the Egyptian government, force some infrastructure into some backwater dump called Kul Elna, and excavate a completely collapsed sanctuary that sat an unknown distance below ground.
Really, he didn’t know what all the fuss was about.
The hardest part had been pinpointing the location of the Sanctuary where the so-called ‘Ceremonial Duel’ had taken place. The rest should be child’s play.
The projected date was in next April. He supposed that would be fine; the space needle would be constructed by then, the appropriate AI would be programmed and fitted with the appropriate hardware by then, and the Crystal Cloud Network and Neural VR system would be finished and gearing up for a Spring launch.
Kaiba took a deep breath, powered off his computer, and decided that his mind had been put well enough at ease for him to try and get some sleep. Things were still on track. A few more months wouldn’t break him – he could wait.
He wasn’t a patient man, but he could wait.
Notes:
We're switching up the Ka and Ba from the manga to make it better align with the actual beliefs. And we're only sticking with five major parts of the soul :0
1.) Ka – the vital essence, the thing that gives us life and fuels the Ba.
2.) Ba – the unique qualities of each individual, which can be given solid shape, in the form of a monster or other aberration.
3.) Ren – the name.
4.) Ib – the heart, the seat of the soul.
5.) Sheut - the shadow/the yami - the other you.Put here for easy ref, mostly for me lol
Chapter 8: The Ghost of Christmas’s Past, Present, and Future
Summary:
It's Christmas!
Notes:
long time no see :']
Hadn't had a lot of time to work on this fic lately and I lost a little steam, but Imma try and chip away at it again ^^ This chapter was actually written awhile ago
Chapter Text
“Alright everyone, I have a very special treat in store for you all, tonight!” Pegasus chimed, literally. The jingle bells on his Santa suit jingled every time he moved.
He stood before Shadi, Ms. Phillips, and Croquet, in front of the television, DVD in hand. The living room, while still a spacious, sweeping room of seldom used furniture, had been turned into the coziest room in the castle. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, customized stockings hanging on the mantle. A Christmas tree stretched from floor to ceiling, dripping in sparkling tinsel and shining with multi-colored lights. Garlands and tinsel, lights and mistletoe, everything was decorated to the fullest extent, and the coffee table was chockfull of decorated sugar cookies, hot chocolate, and about a dozen other little confections.
Shadi and Ms. Phillips shared the couch, a space saved between them for Pegasus. Croquet sat in an armchair, which sat by itself, as far away as it could be while still in viewing range of the television.
Pegasus held up the DVD for all to see, and tapped the case, “What I have here is a digital recording of the very first Funny Bunny Christmas special from 1982: ‘A Christmas Caper.’ Now, this film holds a very special place in the Funny Bunny continuity. Now, does anyone happen to know what makes this film so special?”
No one immediately answered.
“Anyone? Ok, a hint! It’s also the reason this film is not considered a part of the canon.”
Shadi and Ms. Phillips exchanged a look and a shrug, each, much to Pegasus’s disdain.
“Really?” Pegasus implored them, “Shadi, you should remember this!”
“I…” The ghost scratched his head, “Should I?”
“Yes!”
“Of this, you are certain?”
“Yes! It’s only been two years and you’ve only died like five times between then and now, this should be fresh on your mind! Dig deep!”
“Let us see…” Shadi sighed and closed his eyes, moving a hand to his chin. After a long minute of silent contemplation, boredom on Ms. Phillips part, and patient anticipation from Pegasus, eventually, Shadi opened his eyes and nodded, sagely, “The rabbit and the dog join forces in this one.”
Pegasus applauded and went to go put the DVD in the player. Ms. Phillips turned and leaned over to Shadi.
“Have you really died five times?” She asked.
“More or less,” He answered.
“What’s that mean?”
“It could have been more or it could have been less – it is difficult to assess where the line between life and death truly lies.”
“…Yeah, as a doctor, that line is pretty clear, for me. It’s the flatline.”
“Then how would you define my existence?”
“You’re an outlier and should not be counted.”
Pegasus interrupted the conversation by plopping himself down on the couch between them.
“Focus, you two, there will be a quiz after the movie, and if you want to open your presents, you will have to get at least three correct.”
“How many questions are on your test?” Ms. Phillips asked.
Pegasus raised the remote and pressed play, “I took it easy on you three and only came up with forty questions.”
“There are forty questions and we only need three to pass?” She asked.
“Yes. It’s Christmas and I’m being generous,” Pegasus said, then pressed the play button, “Now, let us enjoy a masterpiece.”
Whether or not the 1982 special edition digital release of ‘Funny Bunny: A Christmas Caper’ could be considered a masterpiece or not, the viewing was treated as if it were. Not a single jingle interrupted the animated production, as Pegasus, in his Christmas regalia, sat stock still, intent on the film he’d seen at least twenty-six times. Cookies were eaten, hot chocolate was drunk, and the film concluded about eighty minutes later. Then the quiz began.
“That’s correct, Shadi,” Pegasus said, “The name of the stolen Christmas Star Topper was ‘The Stellis Star.’ Which does, indeed, translate to the Stars Star. Now, onto question two – Croquet!”
“Hm?”
Pegasus squinted at the man, “You weren’t asleep over there, were you, Croquet?”
“No, sir,” The man answered groggily – he’d obviously just been asleep in his armchair.
“Then perhaps you’d like to tell us the answer to question number two?”
Croquet adjusted his reading glasses and squinted down at the paper in his hands, before answering, “Pie – the gift Funny Bunny gave the dog was a box that threw a pie in his face.”
Pegasus pursed his lips and considered the other’s answer, “…Perhaps I should have taken into consideration that you’ve seen this movie over twenty times…”
“Twenty times?” Ms. Phillips asked.
“He’s made me watch it every Christmas,” Croquet answered, sitting up straighter, “Even the years when he was suffering the affects of a cursed, magic eye that made him evil.”
Pegasus’s eyes immediately moved to Shadi, just in time to see the ghost look down and worry his hands together.
“Ha, well, those years the viewing was mandatory!” Pegasus quickly continued, lightheartedly.
“…I was under the impression that this viewing was mandatory?” Ms. Phillips asked.
“It was if you wanted to receive your Christmas gifts on Christmas,” Pegasus answered with a flick of the quiz paper in his hand.
“You know…” Ms. Philips started innocently, “My family would always let us open one gift on Christmas Eve, and save the rest for Christmas Day… And we usually didn’t have to take a quiz to open any of them.”
Pegasus chuckled, and put a hand on his hip. The Holiday, movie, and copious amounts of sugar had put him in a good mood – sufficient enough to distract him from his role as quizmaster.
“Only usually?” Pegasus asked.
“Yeah, I mean, sometimes we’d have to answer a single question – ‘have you been good this year’?” She answered, much to Pegasus’s amusement.
“Alright, well, what was family Christmas like for you, then, Ms. Philips?”
“Oh, well, they were pretty low-key. We did presents, watched ‘A Christmas Carol,’ you know, all the usual stuff. My parents are protestant, so we uh, you know, celebrated that part of it, too.”
“Really now? Were you also made to star in a nativity play?”
“Yeah, every year my parents pushed me to audition. I snagged the role of Mary, once, though I did not care for it. If I liked acting, I would have been an actor,” She paused, “Wait, you were forced into nativity plays?”
“Forced is not the right word,” Croquet answered first, and Pegasus laughed again.
“I lived for the stage!” Pegasus proclaimed, “My mother was an actor, and I, too, thought it my destiny to bask in the same limelight! Alas, my acting career began and ended with the Christmas plays my parents encouraged me to participate in, back when they were under the delusion that they were religious. My breakout role was the head angel. Not just your typical run-of-the-mill standard angle, but the head angel – the one with speaking lines,” Pegasus fanned a hand out over his chest and lowered his voice, “’Be ye not afraid!’”
His crowd offered him a few consolation claps.
“Thank you, you’re all too kind,” Pegasus grinned and shook his head, “Really. If my father had shown as half as much enthusiasm as you three, I might’ve stuck with the gig.”
“Your mother was fairly proud, though,” Croquet said.
“Yes, I suppose she was,” Pegasus said thoughtfully, then laughed, “I think the only way she could’ve been more proud is if I’d somehow nabbed the role of baby Jesus himself.”
“…I met the Christ, once,” Shadi said.
Pegasus, Ms. Phillips, and Croquet all turned and stared at Shadi.
Shadi looked between them all, awkwardly, “…I just wanted to contribute to the conversation.”
~
“Watching for Santa, out there?”
Pegasus asked as he strolled into his bedroom. Shadi was standing by the glass door of the veranda. He’d been translucent – the tale-tale sign of being lost in his thoughts. Shadi turned, and offered Pegasus a smile as Pegasus walked up and joined him.
“Not quite,” Shadi said, then directed his cloudy blue eyes back up to the sky outside, “I was just thinking, is all.”
Pegasus moved closer, and watched Shadi’s form solidify, becoming solid. He took the invitation, and put his arm around the ghost’s waist, “Thinking about what, my dear?”
The ghost hummed, his smiling fading somewhat.
“My past, I suppose,” Shadi answered thoughtfully, “Or a lack thereof.”
He didn’t sound sad, per se… But wistful. Terribly fitting for a ghost.
“Today was nice,” Shadi said.
“Yeah?”
“I enjoyed sharing the occasion with you – and Ms. Phillips. I believe Croquet still dislikes me.”
Pegasus grimaced, “He doesn’t dislike you…”
“I have been led to believe that your Santa disproves of lying.”
“Psh, fine, Mr. tattletale,” Pegasus sighed, “I’m sure Croquet will eventually learn to not dislike you. It’s just – harder for him to understand us.”
Shadi looked up at Pegasus and smiled again, and this time Pegasus could tell a lot more rested behind it.
“Occasionally I find us difficult to fathom, too,” The ghost softly, “Of all the ways fate could twist – the fact that we ended here, together, might be the most unbelievable outcome it could put forth.”
“I understand the sentiment,” Pegasus laughed, “If you’d told me I’d fall for the man who would perform an impromptu eye surgery on me deep down in a dusty, old Egyptian tomb full of magical, cursed artefacts, I’d… Well… Honestly, I don’t quite know what I’d say to that. The word ‘crazy’ would probably pop up. Inane. Impossible. Although…”
“Hm?”
“If you’d told me I’d fall for the mysterious, magical stranger that led me through those maze like tunnels to show me the tablets that would inspire my life’s work… I’d probably hear you out.”
Both chuckled at that, and eventually their gazes settled back on the stars. A dusting of snow had come to cover the island, and though the winds outside the castle walls blew bitter cold, Pegasus couldn’t help but feel warm – even if the ghost pressed against his side was unnaturally cool.
“If you had told me that I would one day be able to feel love,” Shadi said, “I do not think I would have believed it.”
Pegasus’s eye wandered back down from the night sky and settled on the ghost’s face. How he’d come to love that enigmatic man – all his messy mysteries and incongruences – his everything, right down to the peculiar, little triangles that adjourned his head.
A gentle smile still curved Shadi’s lips, and Pegasus couldn’t stop from mirroring it.
“Hey,” Pegasus said.
“Hm?”
“Promise you won’t be mad.”
“Mad?” Shadi turned his attention to Pegasus and cast him an inquisitive look, “Why would I be mad?”
“You have to promise!”
“Pegasus…”
“Promise.”
“Fine. You have,” Shadi leveled his gaze, “…My word.”
Pegasus grinned, “Maybe Santa dropped off your present a few hours early.”
Shadi’s expression immediately fell, “Pegasus – I thought we had agreed not to get any gifts for the other.”
“I couldn’t help myself!” Pegasus chirped, dropped his arm from the ghost, and scurried off to his bedside table.
“Max…” Shadi watched him go, helpless, now, to stop him.
Pegasus returned, holding two little boxes, grinning giddy like a child. He held out the one in the deep blue wrapping paper, and kept the one wrapped in ruby red. Shadi hesitated, expression conflicted.
“Come on,” Pegasus jiggled the small box, “I won’t tell Santa that we’re being naughty, and opening them before Christmas.”
Shadi relented, taking the box into his hands. He studied it over, then turned his eyes up at Pegasus.
“Go on,” Pegasus encouraged him.
Silently, Shadi tore through the paper, and Pegasus did the same to his own. He waited with an anticipatory smile on his face. His eye was glued to Shadi’s face, waiting for the moment the ghost opened his box. And he got to see it – the moment Shadi’s eyes widened, filled with emotion, and turned to search for Pegasus’s.
And Pegasus turned his own gift box around to show Shadi a matching necklace. Both were identical; small, golden ankhs on a fine golden chain. Though simple, the metal had been textured in segments, to given the impression of rays of light. And when the little ankh caught the light just right, it did seem to shine.
“So, I know we agreed not to get each other presents. I have everything I could want and you want for nothing, I get that, but,” Pegasus explained as he carefully removed his own necklace from the box, “I still wanted to get you something, and I thought, what do I get the man who doesn’t care for or need for material things? Well, I thought about it, and it didn’t take too awful long to think of an answer; my future.”
Shadi’s expression softened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words escaped him.
“I…” Pegasus’s smiled faltered, as stronger, heavier emotions caught up to him. The ankh twirled slowly on the end of its chain as he held it up, “I know that this bond we share is, perhaps, a little far from traditional, but I’ve always been a man of symbols, and while I don’t think a ring will ever quite fit me the same, I thought that maybe this could mean something just as powerful.”
Pegasus’s eye focused from the necklace to the man before him. Shadi was crying, those strange silent tears.
“Shadi?” Pegasus asked, suddenly struck with worry.
He brought the necklace down just in time for Shadi to step forward and hug him like he was the last solid thing on earth.
“I will keep it with me, always,” Shadi said, with his face pressed up against Pegasus’s shoulder, “Always.”
Pegasus let out a breath in relief, before it could be squeezed out of him. He fished for his arms, and Shadi eased his embrace just enough for Pegasus to get them free and squeeze the other back.
~
Long after Pegasus had gone to sleep, Shadi laid awake in their bed, staring up at the little ankh dangling from his fingers.
He would have to concentrate in order to touch it, let alone wear it, but he could keep it close – he would keep it safe.
Snow was falling outside. Pegasus was sleeping soundly. All was at peace.
Chapter 9: Restless Spirits
Summary:
( Content warning! Suggestive content in this one! And some gore! Not at the same time and not explicit! )
Shadi can't seem to let himself rest.
Chapter Text
The presence of happiness does not negate the presence of sadness; love cannot destroy feelings of loss, and hope cannot fully dissuade anxiety, for all of these feelings exist in constant flow, a tide in the mind.
Shadi told himself this, and he tried to find peace in it.
There was no reason he should feel as restless as he did, when this was the most at ease he had ever felt. He might’ve been able to escape death, but it seemed like Shadi would never be able to escape his own head.
Dreaming should have been impossible, as sleep should have been impossible. He was dead – there was no physical benefit to rest. But his soul had proven to be restless, if anything, and so finding himself inside another dream didn’t come as any real surprise. He was more annoyed, really, and disappointed with himself, too, to be back in a dream, face to face with himself.
Why couldn’t he just let himself rest?
His dead eyed, blood encrusted doubleganger was back within the Sanctuary staring up at him, and Shadi was back, staring down at him from atop the platform with the Millennium Stone. Shadi tore his eyes away from the man who’d previously ripped out his heart (literally yet metaphysically) and ventured a look back at the Millennium Stone. The carved sarcophagus had been home to the seven millennium items, and though it had never housed a body, it had contained his soul – a part of it, anyway, the part called Hasan.
The smiling Stone was now void of anything but symbolic meaning, Shadi supposed. Even in this dream, it laid baren, the seven millennium items gone, and its soul now captured and held hostage within himself. He could only hope that his body was a more comfortable prison for the sacrificial hero’s soul.
Shadi turned away from the Stone and set his weary eyes upon the bloody double, again. The Nightmare, as Shadi had called him, hadn’t moved – probably hadn’t even blinked. His eyes were lifeless, a faded dull orange that held no emotion.
This same dream had been pestering him for days, now, perhaps longer, though the dreams were always hazy and slipped away without leaving a lasting impression, save for the uneasiness, and restlessness that lingered after them like an aftertaste.
This time, however, something within his subconscious stirred – and he responded to the Nightmare.
“What do you want?” Shadi asked.
“Nothing,” It answered.
That was probably true. The Nightmare standing before him never craved the blood that coated his hands and arms, but he’d never tried to rid himself of it, either. His face wore neither anger nor dread. He simply was, and he did – without thought or care. He was duty and he was obligation, nothing more.
Shadi raised a hand to his own chest, remembering the Nightmare’s hand inside it, gripping, ripping and tearing free weight inside it. There was no hole there, that he could feel, and as he meditated on it a moment, Shadi could feel the presence of something within him now. Despite his heart’s presence, he felt lighter than he had. He felt better. But still – there sat an uneasiness.
Perhaps his heart feared being plucked out, again. And if that was the case, Shadi had to agree with it – he too would like to avoid the presence of a cruel fist inside his chest.
“Why are you here?” Shadi asked of him.
“Why are you?”
Shadi frowned at him, then took in the sight of the room around them. It was the Sanctuary – his home, his prison, his tomb – and grasped at straws. The walls and columns were marked with veins of liquid gold, damaged, but standing. The hieroglyphics that decorated them captured and reflected his sentimentality, beliefs, and personal promises.
They appeared to be inside the room of his soul – though he didn’t know how such a thing was possible. He didn’t wear the Key, the Nightmare didn’t wear the Key, and the Stone didn’t hold the Key. This had to have been some sort of lucid dream, unless his sleeping mind had somehow transported itself into whatever dimension/plane of being soul rooms occupied. Shadi shook his head – it didn’t matter because his answer was the same, regardless.
“I know not.”
The Nightmare just stared at him.
Growing exasperated, Shadi threw out his arms, “What do you want? To relieve me of my heart again?”
“I could but it would not matter. You are weak,” The Nightmare said lifelessly, “Addled with guilt but content with the suffering. I cannot change this.”
Shadi clenched his hands and set his jaw, before stepping forward towards the other.
“No, let us get this sorted out, now. You are thing the Items made me. You are what they wanted me to be, and you are who I was, when I had not yet found my heart. You are our Sheut. Yes, guilt and grief broke us, but I have pulled myself back together, and I have learned. I have grown. And I live with them both, inside my heart. They are a part of me, but that does not make me weak. It is not weakness to feel.”
Shadi stepped down off the platform, and for the first time, he looked the Nightmare in the eyes without a hint of apprehension.
“You exist without pain, fear, doubt, or remorse, but you also do not know happiness, warmth, or love. Know this – you are not strong because you do not feel.”
Shadi narrowed his eyes at the mirror of his own face, searching, judging. And something seemed to snap into place.
“I have a heart and you will never be able to take it from me,” Shadi said, after a few moments, “And I think that scares you.”
And then Shadi saw something – some emotion he couldn’t place, some feeling he couldn’t name – flicker across his double’s face. Was it anger? Sadness? Fear? Relief? Shadi didn’t have time to register it. Because the moment it appeared, the Nightmare disappeared. In an instant, he was gone, and Shadi stared, wide eyed at the room before him.
Was that it?
He glanced around, finding nothing else out of place. And then he looked down.
His hands were coated in fresh blood, bright, crimson red, and flowing, wet and raw.
Before horror could properly set in, he was awake, and deeply disappointed to find that Pegasus had already risen and gone about his morning.
Pegasus, no longer afraid that his ghost was simply a fragment of his imagination, no longer clung to him 24/7. But Shadi could have really used the comfort, this morning. Regardless, relief still managed to find him.
Relief was short lived; the horror would come.
The next night his sleeping mind found him back in the Sanctuary, and though the Nightmare did not join him, he was not alone.
Bodies – hundreds, if not a thousand, covered the floor below the dais and piled high around the perimeter of the room – an ocean of blood congealing between them all. And Shadi stood before them all, their blood, over his hands and up his arms.
No wonder the Nightmare had opted to become heartless; it was probably the only way to stay sane when confronted with the reality of your sins. Perhaps the Nightmare had been the one in control when he had performed his merciless duties – overseeing all the judgement and providing all the punishments.
His shadow – his yami – his Sheut – his unflinching resolve to his duty.
But he was the Nightmare, now, in addition to what he’d already been – both the cruelty he’d committed and the heart unable to ignore that cruelty any longer. Now, he saw the blood he’d shed in duty to the nameless Pharoah, and now, he couldn’t look away.
He felt exactly how he’d felt over a year ago inside Pegasus’s mind, when Pegasus’s double had forced him to watch himself force the Millennium Eye into Pegasus’s skull. He’d watched his own actions in silent, abhorrent terror, unable to process, able only to witness the torment he’d put an innocent Pegasus through.
Pegasus.
Pegasus?
“Pegasus!”
Shadi didn’t even register he’d screamed when he’d spotted a head of long, silver hair at the very back of the room. A field of bodies separated them – some broken, some charred, all long dead. There was no way but over. Shadi took off sprinting from the platform, stained slippers bouncing off splayed arms, legs, and bodies. He could only hope that Pegasus wasn’t as dead as those he passed over.
“Pegasus!”
His journey over the mounds of death was haphazard and not made any easier by the tears obscuring his vision. Progress was progress, until there was a snag around his neck. Shadi came to a sudden stop and choked, reaching for the cloak around his neck. For a moment he feared that it might be the Ostrich, sent back from the afterlife to drag him back, kicking and probably screaming.
When he turned back to look at what had snagged him, he really wished it had been the Ostrich.
The corpse of Kanekura, the Domino City museum curator, was turned towards him with his stiff dead fingers caught on the end of Shadi’s cloak. Kanekura’s dead eyes stared up at him and his mouth gaped wide, silently pleading.
Shadi kicked the corpse, cursed it and tore himself from its stiff grasp. He paid no mind to the body of other museum guard, nor the relic collector, or the other graverobbers that littered the floor, reaching up for him. He held no pity for them – and as he continued his frenzied run, he didn’t stop to consider if he should. They all tried to slow him down, grabbing at him, silently crying – men in rags, familiar faces turned thieves, a white-haired man in English garb – he spared them no thought.
Only one man mattered to him, at the moment, and he would get to him, no matter what stood in his way.
Pegasus was just as lifeless as the others in the gruesome sea. His flesh was cold and his body was stiff, still Shadi drew him up into his arms and clung to him.
“Pegasus, please –“
His fingers left streaks against the part of Pegasus’s pale face that was not already marred with the blood leaking from an empty eye socket.
“Max –“ Shadi bowed his head against the other’s, “Say something – please, please.”
But Pegasus was silent, like the rest of the Sanctuary.
Shadi wasn’t sure what prompted him to look up again. But when he did, he looked back at the platform where the Millennium Stone sat, and locked eyes with himself, yet again.
This other Shadi; this reflection was bright and pristine, and smiling, ever so gently back at him. And he wasn’t alone.
Seven young faces, both familiar and unfamiliar, stood around him, staring back at him. Their expressions were unreadable. He couldn’t tell if they were angry, disgusted, disappointed or scared – they were just staring. And the other Shadi – he was just standing there – smiling.
Shadi couldn’t contain all the emotions that threatened to explode out of him, then.
How dare he subject children to these horrors. How dare he bring them here. How dare he stand there and smile like nothing was wrong. Didn’t he know he was the reason those children were dead, now? Didn’t he know he was the reason he couldn’t even properly mourn them?
Oh, how Shadi hated that man in that moment.
“YOU -!”
Shadi rose to his feet, bloody hands balled into fists, and started back towards the platform on the other end of the Sanctuary.
But then he felt another stiff, cold hand around his ankle. He turned, ready to bring his foot down on the sorry corpse that felt the need to stall him – and froze.
It was Pegasus. Of course, it was Pegasus – with his bloody face and gaping eye and mangled cries and –
Shadi shot upright in bed, now free of the nightmare, but reeling. When reality finally settled in, he felt all his strength leave him, and he slumped back down where he’d laid.
~
“So…”
Shadi looked up at the artist, who was hard at work.
Pegasus put the end of his paint brush to his lips and let his gaze settle heavily on Shadi, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start running some of my theories by you?”
Shadi fidgeted for a moment, “Hm? Nothing is wrong.”
Shadi resumed his nonchalant pose, with his elbow on the arm of the chaise longue, his hand curled around his cheek. He’d been instructed to keep his fingers just so, as to not block the small triangle along the curve of his cheekbone. He’d been told that it was an imperative detail to nail down for the portrait.
The rest of the subject matter had been meticulously positioned by the artist, as well. Shadi was half nude, carefully draped in his usual robes, and surrounded by a plethora of fresh fruits and flowers, all either grown in the island greenhouse, or shipped in specifically for this piece.
He’d been told that the bounty of fruit and flowers were supposed to represent life, while he was supposed to represent death, naturally. Both life and death were supposed to be depicted as alluring, in this piece.
Honestly, Shadi thought that the explanation was just a convoluted way of getting him in a compromising light. But what else was he going to be doing on a Wednesday afternoon?
Posing for his portraits was usually easy – he didn’t have muscles that could tire and he had the patience of a rock. This specific portrait was another matter, however – he had to focus on keeping himself solid, less the vibrant life around him fall through him.
“You’ve been uncharacteristically clingy today,” Pegasus accused, “And – you actually agreed to this portrait.”
“I had not outright denied your request, a week ago...”
“But today, specifically, you came to me and offered,” Pegasus narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Perhaps I just knew it would please you.”
“So, you made it your mission to please me, then? Is today special? It’s not our anniversary, now, is it?”
“Well, no. But I do not see why today cannot also be special.”
Shadi set his eyes on the far window and didn’t notice that Pegasus had risen from his chair and started over until the man was standing directly beside the lounger.
Shadi hesitantly looked up at the other, “Getting a closer look?”
Pegasus’s expression was unamused. He studied Shadi’s face for a moment, as if trying to figure out a puzzle before he plucked a pear from the fruit and flower decorum around Shadi’s side. Pegasus held it up, scrutinizing the flawless yellow-green skin of the fruit.
“You know I am particularly good at reading people, even without the Millennium Eye,” Pegasus mused, “I grew up playing poker, picking up on tells and picking bluffs apart. Then I got into business, doing the same thing to men across a conference table.”
Shadi watched Pegasus’s eye move from the fruit to focus on him.
“I know very well that something is troubling you,” Pegasus stated.
“Besides the fact that someone other than you will inevitably see this painting?”
The deflection proved too humorous and it broke Pegasus’s serious spell.
“Hah,” Pegasus sunk his teeth into the pear and turned away, one arm crossed around his waist, “I’m being serious.”
“As am I. If Ms. Phillips ever sees this, I will never be able to look her in the eyes, again.”
Pegasus fought his begrudging smile, and once it had managed to vanquish it, he turned and leveled his pear at Shadi.
“Answer me, spirit!”
Shadi smiled against his curled fingers, “Or what? You will exorcise me?”
“Banish the thought! I’d simply breakup with you.”
“Are our bonds not strong as those of marriage?”
Pegasus’s eye widened at the word, but then he shook the fruit, powering past the blush in his face and flutter in his chest, “Divorce, then!”
“Banish the thought.”
And Shadi mistakenly concluded that he’d been successful in dissuading Pegasus’s concern. Perhaps he should have known better – hiding anything from Pegasus had become impossible, as his own emotionless façade had slowly ebbed away, and Pegasus’s attunement to him had grown.
It was both sweet and frustrating, to be known so well, and so fully.
The ghost laid awake, concentrating both on holding the book above his face and on the words themselves, waiting for Pegasus to turn out the light and signal him to sleep. He felt Pegasus move beside him, but didn’t look up, anticipating the other to turn out the light on the bedside table.
The low light didn’t flip off, however, and Shadi looked up from his book to find Pegasus moving above him. The book was slipped out of his hands, and Pegasus dropped himself down, straddling the ghost’s hips.
“…Pegasus?” Shadi questioned the situation, but didn’t move to leave it, even as Pegasus bent forward, found Shadi’s wrists, and pinned them up by either side of his head.
Shadi blinked up at him, silently studying Pegasus’s unusually solemn face.
Pegasus narrowed his eye, “You are going to tell me exactly what’s been troubling you,” Pegasus said firmly.
Shadi sighed, and smiled despite himself, “Pegasus, nothing –“
“For a man who used to be all about truth, you do an awful lot of lying. Tell me. Right now.”
Shadi’s hands tested Pegasus’s grip, and finding it secure, he moved his legs, testing the other’s weight atop him. Both knew that Shadi could fade, and become just as solid as the air around them, with little more than a thought. So, a curious grin curved Shadi’s lips, and he narrowed his dull eyes up at the other man.
“And if I do not? What exactly do you plan to do?”
“Keep you here until we are both ghosts.”
“We would be here quite a while, if that is the case.”
“Then you’d better fill in the time and start talking.”
Shadi lolled his head to the side, looking away, “Pegasus, it is nothing you need be concerned with.”
“I’ve heard that far too many times in my life to ever believe it, again.”
The waver in Pegasus’s voice immediately drew Shadi’s complete attention and concern.
“Is it me?” Pegasus asked, frown taught, “Are you not happy, here? Am I not doing enough? Am I disappointing you?”
“What? Max – what?”
Pegasus’s hands suddenly met the bed, as Shadi faded from physicality. Shadi, now translucent and barely visible, sat upright before Pegasus. His hands were physical again, when he raised them to cradle Pegasus’s face between them.
“Have I truly made you think such things?” Shadi asked softly, brow bending with hurt.
Pegasus’s expression melted between Shadis’ hands, and he looked away, “Perhaps I… Perhaps I might’ve jumped to conclusions. But the mind will supply its own answers if the real one’s aren’t forthcoming, and you’ve just been so… Distant. I know I can’t spoil you with money or lavish you with gifts. All I can offer is my amazing personality and time. But I’ve just been so busy with I2… It just feels like I’m not doing enough – like I’m not enough to keep you happy.”
Shadi brushed his thumb across Pegasus’s cheek, “You are more than enough. You do make me happy, but you must know that it is not your sole responsibility. You have walked the corridors of my mind. You’ve seen me break, and you have pulled me from the wreckage. You helped save me, from myself. That does not mean that my mind is your burden. I do not expect you to rid my mind of all its troubles, and you should not expect that of yourself.”
“Let me try?”
Shadi held Pegasus’s gaze for a few moments before he offered up a sad smile, and finally relented.
“There have been many things on my mind, recently, and now that I have ample time to myself to not worry about fate, or the pharaoh, or the Items… I find myself unable to not dwell upon them. The only reason I’ve kept such troubles from you is because they are old worries, that will never leave me, not until I finally… Rest.”
Shadi paused, glancing away, and lowered his hands to the bed, “When I found myself alone in the desert of Du’at, waiting by the Nile, I thought of the Pharaoh, and the friends and family he had waiting on his arrival – and the friends he had left behind. Then I began to think of myself –“
Shadi’s eyes connected with Pegasus’s, “Of who I had left behind –“
Then his gaze fell away, to the same distance place they often looked to, “And those that might be waiting for me.”
Pegasus’s eye widened in realization, “Your children.”
“I was not ignorant of their presence. Even if I had been able to cross the river and find my place beyond the halls of judgement, I… I am not wholly convinced that I would have been able to face them. And a part of me, despite how ashamed I am of it – a part of me is relieved that I did not have to.”
“Shadi…”
“I fear their anger. I fear their disappointment. I do not know what to expect, but I fear every possibility.”
Pegasus frowned, looking hard into Shadi’s face, “What about their acceptance?”
Shadi turned back to him, brow furrowed.
“Have you even considered the possibility that your children might accept you?” Pegasus asked.
Shadi shook his head, almost bewildered, “No, I… I suppose I… Have not. But I do not foresee that being possible. I failed them. In every sense of the word, I failed them. I would not accept me.”
“But you are notoriously hard on yourself,” Pegasus said, “And need I remind you: what happened to you was not your fault.”
Pegasus placed a hand over Shadi’s and squeezed it.
“I think you need to have a little faith in them,” Pegasus poked a finger to Shadi’s chest, “And a little more in yourself, too.”
Shadi let that sink in for a minute, before finally looking up and managing a small smile for the other, “Perhaps I should have troubled you sooner. You always know what to say to assuage my doubts.”
“Take that lesson to heart!” Pegasus poked the ghost again, “I’m good with my words!”
Shadi’s gaze softened further, “Maximillion, I do apologize if I’ve made you doubt my devotion to you. It was not my intention.”
“I know, I know…” Pegasus shook his head, and moved back to his side of the bed, “I don’t know. There’s just been a lot on my mind too, I guess.”
“What is it?”
Pegasus looked back at Shadi, and the ghost managed to catch just a moment of alarm on the other’s face. Though it was expertly hidden immediately after, he’d seen it.
“Nothing compared to what you’re going through,” Pegasus waved a hand, smiling assuredly.
Shadi narrowed his eyes.
“Trivial, silly things,” Pegasus laughed lightly, “Nothing as serious as life and death and the souls scattered about on either side.”
“Even if it is trivial, it isn’t silly,” Shadi echoed the same words Pegasus had once used on him, long ago.
“But…” Pegasus pouted.
“Must I pin you to the bed to persuade you to talk?”
Pegasus pursed his lips, and raised his brow, “…Promise?”
The ghost moved with such speed and intent then, that Pegasus was left blinking up at him from the bed. It’d been obvious, however, as Shadi grabbed his hands and pinned him down, that Pegasus had no intention of resisting.
He still had the gall to act like he had, “This is no fair! This was my underhanded interrogation tactic!”
“And I’ve stolen it. You will speak now.”
They both knew Pegasus was under no pressure to do so, even if Shadi wanted him to.
“You know you’re surprisingly sturdy for a ghost?” Pegasus hummed, “Heavy, too. How is that possible?”
“Allow me to elaborate – you will speak on the question I’ve posed to you.”
“Refresh my memory? What was it, again?”
Shadi pressed his face closer, putting more weight down onto the other, clearly growing frustrated.
“What is bothering you, Pegasus?” Shadi asked.
“The fact that your lips aren’t on mine,” Pegasus grinned.
That complaint was remedied angrily, hungrily, and Pegasus couldn’t suppress a small whine, or his heart from racing. Shadi wasn’t truly mad at him – frustrated, maybe, but more worried than anything. Perhaps Pegasus could feel it, somehow, in the way his kiss grew softer.
Perhaps the ghost couldn’t feel Pegasus, but he was trying to – and Pegasus could feel him all the same.
“What else?” Shadi asked softly, his lips still lingering by Pegasus’s cheek.
“So many other little things,” Pegasus smiled, breathless.
“Tell me, and I shall see that each is fixed.”
~
Shadi was back in the Sanctuary of his mind. Though there was still blood on his hands, the Sanctuary floor was blissfully bare of bodies. The Millennium Stone was still empty, and still smiling, still cracked and mended. Really, the only thing that had changed was Shadis’ own appearance.
He attempted to wipe his hands on the part of his cloak that wasn’t already stained with symbolic sin, and though his hands left fresh stains on the fabric, the blood refused to leave his hands – flowing fresh, wet, and sticky. He frowned and wished that it’d be a bit more symbolic, and a lot less tactile.
The corridors of his mind were silent. The cracks that pervaded his mind ran their length, but since being fixed, the walls and ceilings held true. Still, Shadi walked along, with apprehension slowing his steps. Though he didn’t need to worry about running into his bloody counterpart since absorbing the specter into his person, he didn’t trust his mind to be kind to him.
After all, he wasn’t sure that he could be kind back to it, either. He was still surprised at the red, hot vitriol that’d claimed him when he’d laid eyes on that… Other smiling version of himself. Perhaps he’d somehow absorbed the contempt of his Sheut along with it. He understood it, now, however – the anger at himself, the disappointment, the irritation.
A timid hand tried one of the doors that lined the hallway, but came away, leaving only a smear of blood on a locked handle.
Death hadn’t unlocked his mind, nor had accepting his bloody counterpart. Would these doors ever be opened?
He walked along until he came to the door Pegasus had once opened for him – the door to the memory of him and those children, sharing a bedtime story. His hand closed around the handle, and found it unlocked, as it had been for Pegasus.
The action immediately brought tears to his eyes. He let go of the handle and quickly walked away from the door, cursing himself for not being strong enough to open it on his own.
The door to the center of his mind was also unlocked. He peeked in, found it empty, save for the pedestal that stood in the center, and ventured inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to the Cube that rested in the center. The soft, warm glow of its inner light drew him in, like a moth to the cozy light of a lightbulb.
Shadi gingerly picked it up. The writing on the Cube’s six sides was still foreign to him, yet… He could recognize each side for what he and Pegasus’s had determined them to stand for. That was a comfort, at least. As he turned it over in his hands, he grimaced, remembering the blood that stained him.
Strangely, the sides of the Cube came away unstained. Shadi let out a sigh of relief and held the Cube a little tighter.
It steadied him. It felt right to hold it. He wished he understood why.
LittleDiscoveredStars on Chapter 1 Sat 09 Mar 2024 11:31PM UTC
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DuchessOfBoredom on Chapter 1 Sun 10 Mar 2024 05:54AM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 1 Mon 11 Mar 2024 01:53AM UTC
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Tek (Guest) on Chapter 1 Thu 14 Mar 2024 04:44AM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 1 Sun 17 Mar 2024 09:02PM UTC
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WavesOver on Chapter 1 Sat 16 Mar 2024 08:50PM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 1 Mon 18 Mar 2024 10:21PM UTC
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DuchessOfBoredom on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Mar 2024 06:46AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 16 Mar 2024 06:46AM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 2 Mon 18 Mar 2024 10:36PM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 2 Mon 18 Mar 2024 10:23PM UTC
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Tek/Azerick (Guest) on Chapter 2 Wed 20 Mar 2024 05:24PM UTC
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Tek (Guest) on Chapter 3 Tue 19 Mar 2024 12:13AM UTC
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WavesOver on Chapter 4 Sat 30 Mar 2024 08:02PM UTC
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thepigeonqueen on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Apr 2024 12:06AM UTC
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WavesOver on Chapter 5 Fri 05 Apr 2024 02:45AM UTC
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GhostDNecromana on Chapter 5 Mon 09 Sep 2024 05:01AM UTC
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WavesOver on Chapter 6 Wed 17 Apr 2024 12:12AM UTC
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WavesOver on Chapter 7 Wed 24 Apr 2024 09:48PM UTC
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Kibty_The_Brave on Chapter 8 Wed 09 Apr 2025 04:19AM UTC
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