Drabble Title: Little Broken Heart
Word Count: 600
Warnings (if applicable): None.
Pairings (if applicable): None.
Summary: It isn't always easy to fully put the past behind you.
It was dark and cold in the cemetery that night. The lone figure scaled the iron gate and dropped down on the other side, his eyes narrowed in determination. He resolutely tried to ignore the way his stomach was twisting or the feeling of foreboding that was creeping over him at the very idea of what he was doing.
Seto never wanted to come here. It was a part of their life that was over, he said. Let the dead rest and not haunt the living. Well, that was all well and fine for him, but Mokuba couldn’t give it up so easily.
He crept down the path, hoping he had the right coordinates memorized. But despite trying to focus on his goal and his death grip on his flashlight, he could not fully eliminate his fear. What was he doing, coming into a cemetery this late at night? And on Halloween to boot? In spite of his best efforts, he could not stop thinking thoughts of ghosts and ghouls and restless spirits.
“Come on, Mokuba, cut it out,” he muttered to himself. “That’s kid stuff. You’re not afraid of that!”
But he knew he was. Especially since he also knew, all too well, that the spirit carried on after death. There was the Pharaoh, and Yami Bakura, and …
He rounded a corner and stopped still. This was what he had come to see. Above him stretched a huge, white slab, upon which was written one word. Kaiba. It was the family plot that Gozaburo had purchased long ago. Mokuba was in front of the memorial that had been set up for their stepfather by their stepfather. Of course, his body wasn’t there, but Mokuba had to wonder if his spirit ever visited. Maybe it was still trapped in the virtual world.
And Noa … what about him?
Mokuba looked to the stone just to the big one’s side. It was Noa’s marker, and Mokuba had to wonder if his broken body was really under the ground in the grave. Maybe Gozaburo had buried him after uploading his mind to the virtual world. It was a strange and sobering thought.
Mokuba knelt in front of the grave, his hands held together in front of him in prayer. Please let Noa find peace. And please help me know he’s okay.
He reached into his pocket, removing a small white candle. After placing it on the stone in front of him, he struck a match and lit it. The flame flickered but held, dancing in the cold Autumn night.
Seto had never understood Mokuba’s sympathetic feelings towards Noa, not after what Noa had done to try to tear them apart. “He doesn’t deserve your kindness, Mokuba,” he had snapped once. “He never cared about you! He was only using you to get at me!”
It was a logical feeling. Mokuba couldn’t even say it wasn’t valid. Brainwashing Mokuba against Seto had been horrible. And yet, he really felt there was more to Noa than that. Noa had tried to help them in the end, after all. Who wouldn’t be lonely and bitter after suffering a horrible car accident as a young kid and then being uploaded into a virtual world because it was the only way his father could keep him connected to the mortal plane?
Sighing to himself, Mokuba got up from the damp ground and stood looking at the graves for one last moment. It was the past, it was true. But it wasn’t easy to always put the past behind him when it involved someone he cared about.