White Dragon, Green Dragon
It seemed like finding that old card in his possession had triggered something in Seto, doubt and questions, even anger, that he wasn't able to suppress. No, that wasn't right. He had complete control over himself and his emotions, and had he wished it, none of them would have bothered him. But he did not wish it, and that was really the problem.
As soon as he had realized that he was crying – crying! – he had torn his gaze away from his dragon, determination on his face. What on earth had happened to him, that he would abandon duels altogether and instead submit himself to someone else's will... it reminded him too much of what Gozaburo had done to him and he felt sick to his stomach.
Memories had been rushing back to him, as if he had been asleep for years and was only now awakening from a hellish nightmare. He awoke to a world in which his brother was dead, because he had failed to protect him, and where one man controlled his life so completely that Seto wasn't sure he could just walk away from it.
Even now the mere thought of Divine made him tremble with fear and... something else he couldn't quite put a name to. A childish adoration maybe. The man was such a huge presence in his life, his world, he had serious trouble imagining it without him. And yet, a familiar anger had begun to rise within him. No one made a fool of Seto Kaiba. Divine had shamelessly used and abused him, shaped him to do his bidding.
Seto shivered at the power he himself had placed in Divine's hands. Under this self proclaimed messiah's guidance he had turned the Kaiba Corporation into so much more than a gaming company. He owned stock in more global groups than he could count, not to mention the deals he had made under the table, the secrets he knew of all the right people...
And he had given it all away selflessly, had fullfilled his role as a dutiful servant.
He clenched his hands to fists as his gaze wandered over the city – his office was still located in one of the buildings with the best view – the place where Divine's work was most apparent even to a lazy observer. The only building that towered over that of Kaiba Corp was the Arcadia Movement, a giant of shiny metal and evergreen ivy.
He remembered looking at it with yearning, because his muddled mind had associated it with Divine. The memory only caused him nausea now and the imposing building let a cold shiver run down his spine.
He had to know how far Divine's control over him went. He had to test himself, see if he was able to withstand the man and his eerie powers. Seto tried not to see the city and concentrated instead on his reflection on the glass panel. He was still the same. Tall, cold, strong. He was no one's toy.
*
Seto cursed himself only hours later, for despite his earlier firmness his body had not forgotten the training of the years under Divine's 'care'. All the man had to do was enter the room and Seto wanted to do nothing but sink to his knees and await his orders, and he felt an odd happiness rise in his chest when his head was petted like that of a dog.
At that moment there was nothing more important in the world than Divine and the need to please him. He had to do as he was told. His earlier thoughts of rebellion were gone, banished from his mind as unimportant and insignificant. For only a fool would even contemplate fighting against Divine.
He offered not only his mind but also his body willingly, eagerly even.
He undressed on command and stood perfectly still when his body was inspected in an almost clinical fashion, something he would later see as highly humaliating but what at the time was attention bestowed upon him by Divine – who, after all, owned him more than he did himself – and he enjoyed it thouroughly.
And if it was Divine's will to hurt him, to see him suffer under his hand, then that was fine, too. The slightly elastic shape of a cane came down on his back again and again, and he didn't so much as try to hold back cries of pain and, sooner than he liked, sounds of profound pleasure. He revelled in that pain, because he deserved it, needed it, because it was Divine who inflicted it on him.
It was neither punishment nor reward, though Seto would have accepted both, of course, but discipline, something he received regularly at Divine's hand. It kept his mind sharp, and his body obedient, Divine claimed, and he was right.
It was one of their more rigorous sessions and Divine didn't stop before Seto's back was bloodied under his hand and the young man was barely able to stand upright, even leaning against the wall as he was. His head was spinning with pain and arousal, the two were one and he craved release for both, but only if it was Divine's will. He would endure anything for him, and he heard himself whisper those words over and over.
Even as Divine decided to use his body for his own pleasure, something Seto gladly provided, he knew he was not allowed to come, not unless he had express permission. He didn't get it today, because that wasn't the purpose of the exercise, as Divine reminded him with a smile, and he would not ask for it. It was so he would not forget his place.
*
He wanted to scream.
He came to the realization that Divine was his whole life, he was all that mattered, all that stood between him and a meaningless existence.
It was the one irrevocable truth that governed him.
It was unacceptable.
He might curse his own weakness all day, but there was no way around it. He could not stand against Divine in the man's presence. Left to his own devices however, he was anything but powerless.
He kept the Blue Eyes White Dragon card close to him, albeit well hidden. He looked at it as often as he dared, sometimes several times a day, so he would not forget his resolution. He would break free of those chains, and he would see Divine crushed and defeated if it was the last thing he did.
Which it might as well be. Seto had fought all manner of battles throughout his life, had faced numerous opponents, all with their own kind of strength. Yet none, he found, rivaled Divine.
All, perhaps, except one. But he was long gone, and no crisis of whatever proportions would bring him back. And the longer he waited, the more time passed, the smaller the chance became that anyone would oppose Divine's regime. Society calmed down and settled into the new shape Divine had crafted for it.
It was not a bad world altogether, especially if you were a psychic duelist, but Seto promised himself that he would never accept it. Not as long as he was but a slave to its ruler.
So he investigated this seemingly perfect world, desperately trying to find tiny cracks in sturdy walls, ways to bring down an empire while it was still young. It was during that search that he found the file of a certain young man. To be honest, Seto had to admit that it was probably his hair that first attracted his attention. Dark with golden-blond streaks... the similarity was vague at best, but to someone who had been unwittingly looking for something, it was close enough.
He was a prisoner much like Seto, with one important difference: he wasn't useful to Divine. That reasoning made Seto suspect there was more to him than what met the eye. There had to be a reason that Yusei Fudo had not seen the light of day in years, but was – and the records were quite clear on that – still alive.
Seto leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the computer screen. Freeing him would be a test more than anything. How much could he actually do without Divine noticing? He smirked. It was a challenge he would rather enjoy handling.
Seto had devised a practice programm for himself. He couldn't rely on computers for help, since anything digital could be found and used against him. So he started out simple, by watching Divine from afar while forcing himself not to revert into his submissive persona. It was hard at first, his conditioning had been deeply implemented into his consciousness and threatened to take hold of his actions whenever Divine was near.
He also had to become an incredibly skilled actor so that Divine wouldn't learn of his inner rebllion, and that was probably the hardest part. His submission had to appear natural and easy, not at all forced. At the beginning that was easier than Seto would have liked, but the harder it became for him to be Divine's slave the better he felt about himself and the stronger he got.
He had a long way to go though, and kneeling before Divine was still easier on his troubled mind than standing. But part of him wanted to face the man, even when he was in the room. For now, that was enough.
*
Multitasking was the key to this particular operation. Seto was working on a program on his laptop – something trivial related to the integration of duels into the city's growing infrastructure – while browsing business related documents on his computer; at the same time, his smart phone was hacked into the Arcadia Movement's security protocols, showing the image of a single, darkened cell.
Every now and then Seto's hand seemed to randomly brush his phone when in reality he slowly entered the commands needed for his plan.
Light came on within the tiny room so he could see its occupant. From what Seto could tell he was surprisingly well kept, clean and healthy, if rather thin (the documents indicated as much as well). A few strokes on the sensitive touch screen and he had sound, too.
The young man had been alerted by the sudden light but kept calm so far, a reaction Seto valued in his guinea pig. Moments later, the words he had entered appeared on a small screen inside the boy's cell.
“door unlocked”
Yusei Fudo looked around before trying the door, easily locating the camera in the corner.
“I need my D-Wheel.”, he stated simply, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
Seto wanted to groan in frustration but allowed himself no such weakness, especially since he had almost expected such nonsense.
“confirmed”
He typed and coded the little display into showing a makeshift map of the complex, including the location of a certain motorcycle – confiscated years ago and stored away instead of being distroyed for reasons Seto couldn't fathom.
From then on the boy was on his own. Seto cut the connection and erased all traces of it from the system and his phone. He took a deep breath and then brought his attention back to his projects. Curiously he found a new fascination for the duelling program, and when he came to the aspect of riding duels he couldn't help the sudden image of a motorcycle that had the distinct features of a certain dragon.
He smirked, discarding the idea with a mental shrug.
Some day, maybe.
(TBC)
