Shadow Justice

32: Psychological Shadow Games

The memories were merging, tumbling over each other with no end in sight. It was bogging him down, disorienting him. He was loosing his sense of self, his identity. All he could clearly feel was the Shadow Magus attacking his mental and spiritual barriers relentlessly. The Magus pounded them, ripped them apart, tore them down, and stomped on their remains.

It took all of Kaiba's and Seth's knowledge of Shadow magic to hold the Magus back. But he could tell it was a losing battle. This Shadow Game was tailored specifically for him by someone who knew Kaiba's basic nature well, too well. It speared into his mind, digging out his memories, showcasing them before his eyes. First the good memories, those that filled him and Seth with hope and joy, then ruthlessly tossing them aside and drowning him in darkness, despair, and depression.

He probably relived Atem's and Kisara's deaths a half dozen times each with the death of Mahaad, Shada, Karim, and his mother not far behind. Seth was imploding in on himself with the endless weight of guilt and despair and loneliness. With Seth barely functioning, Kaiba was left to take up the shield and fight the Shadow Magus alone.

But while he knew it was coming, he still was not prepared for the intensity and vindictiveness the Shadow Magus went about ripping apart his memories. It forced him to relive his parents' death in the car accident, but this time Mokuba died as well. Kaiba faltered. He had prepared himself for the daunting pain and anguish he knew he would face as his memories were laid bare before him. But he was not prepared for the Shadow Magus to manipulate his memories.

Mokuba did not die.

:No?: a voice reverberated through his mind. :Are you certain of that?:

"Mokuba is alive," Kaiba insisted.

:He lived that time,: the voice conceded. :But he certainly didn't have much of a life after that, did he?:

Flashes of the two brothers, still too young and innocent to understand the significance of what was happening to them. Kaiba had been forced to grow up at the tender age of ten. He had to become Mokuba's father, mother, and brother at the orphanage. It had not been easy, but he had tried his best. Then Gozaburo had arrived.

:Yes,: the voice purred, causing Kaiba's hackles to rise. :Gozaburo, the man who would adopt you. You defeated him at chess, didn't you?:

Kaiba shifted to a defensive stance, not bothering to answer.

:What did you think would happen, Seto? Did you think you could defeat Gozaburo and be welcomed into the Kaiba family with open arms?:

Memories of the big man glaring down at the ten year old in ill-disguised disgust over the chess board filled Kaiba's senses. He could feel the brisk air filtering through the open window, smell the cologne Gozaburo wore, see his own pieces clearly have mastery over the board. Even at ten, Kaiba knew life with Gozaburo would not be an easy one. But it was better than the orphanage. Mokuba had to be protected.

:But was he, Seto? Was your precious little brother safe?:

No. Mokuba had probably been safer at the orphanage than with Gozaburo. The man drank too much and had a nasty temper. Kaiba had long since forgotten the number of times he had been struck for not doing something fast enough, or good enough, or efficiently enough, or whatever reason Gozaburo had come up with at the time.

:What was the deal you made, Seto? To become the sole focus of Gozaburo's attention, was it not? Why?:

For Mokuba. Everything was for Mokuba. He tolerated the slaps, the curses, the verbal abuse, the late nights, the mountains of homework, and so much more because it meant Mokuba was left alone. But it also meant Mokuba was out of his reach. When Gozaburo found Kaiba's small fledgling Deck, he had taken it, ripped apart most of his cards and threw the rest away right in front of him.