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azuriteInspired by Mitch Albom's "The Five People You Meet In Heaven." Comments/questions/reviews? Send 'em my way. This is a temporary LJ-exclusive fic, until I figure out what to do with it.
They first met just after his sixteenth birthday. Now, most people wouldn't consider sixteen years a very long time, but that didn't matter. Seto Kaiba *felt* old.
But after he met her, he was quite suddenly overwhelmed with feelings that hadn't disturbed his ordered mind since elementary school-- nervousness, fear, and the uncomfortable mix of his heart pounding, his blood rushing, his skin tingling, his mouth going dry, and his limbs feeling as though they'd turned to stone.
As if he were caught in some sort of ethereal, dream-like webbing, he followed her every move, every strand of hair brushed away from perfectly-shaped, deep pink lips.
And then she was in his arms, and they were dancing. He still couldn't speak, especially when she smiled like that.
She supposed it didn't matter that he didn't remember their first meeting. Reassurance came from the fact that there was probably a great deal he didn't remember from that time. Probably.
It was simply a shame she couldn't forget, too. But of all gifts Anzu Mazaki possessed, the only one she cursed was her infallible memory.
That same night as their first meeting, Seto Kaiba, in a manner quite uncharacteristic of him, dropped onto his bed with a sigh.
Mokuba, still young, slept in the same bed, as he had ever since their father --their REAL father-- died seven years ago. The last of their family-- that is, the last of their family that *cared.*
Mokuba stirred slightly, turning in his sleep. Still caught in the throes of his dreams, he vaguely heard his older brother say "She's the one. I'm going to marry her."
Mokuba merely dismissed it as a dream.
When next they "met" a great rift separated them-- as wide as a canyon, a canyon by the name of Duel Monsters. If anyone ever described Seto Kaiba as "single-minded," it was when Yuugi Mutou threatened his title as Duel Monsters champion.
All thoughts of *her* vanished-- even when she was right before his eyes.
And then he lost it all-- all his memories of that time, of their first real meeting and that first impression that seared him to his very soul. Memories ebbed away like water upon the shore... locked away in his mind after a coma filled with nightmares. And then it was gone. All of it... gone.
Occasionally, she woke up from her sleep, the remnants of a dream flickering on the edges of her mind. Blue eyes would open slowly, still clinging to the blackness and peace sleep brought.
Her breathing would quicken and her heart would pump loudly in her ears... and then she would remember.
It was as though she were remembering an old melody-- a tune from yesteryear, like that of an antique music box lost long ago. And then the other sensations would come-- pressure on her back and waist, the smell of his shampoo or cologne. He had to be the only 16-year-old she knew who wore cologne...
Sometimes, it took her a few minutes to shake away these thoughts. She tried to brush them off as silly nostalgia, but her heart lurched and ached every time she thought it.
Most nights when she dreamed, she never *could* get back to sleep.
For the longest time, Seto Kaiba slept dreamlessly. He preferred it tha way-- he didn't buy into any of the blather that said dreams were the brain's way of sorting through the chaos in your mind.
But for one night --for just an instant-- he believed it. Briefly, he recalled a time, shortly after his father died, that he'd snuck up to his uncle's study at night, trying to listen in on his uncle and aunt's conversation regarding his and Mokuba's future.
The only glimmer of light in the dark hall was that which poured through the tiny keyhole-- and when the door opened and Seto stood frozen, caught, and afraid, he only remembered one sensation-- the light of his uncle's study flooding the blackened hallway, illuminating everything.
Waking up that night was something like that. He'd *dreamed* something, he knew it, and yet... with equal certainty, he knew it was much more than that.
A memory.
From that night on, Seto Kaiba actually looked forward to falling asleep and --dare he think it?-- hopefully dreaming. But it wasn't because he liked the idea-- quite the opposite, really. He hated being confused, and if dreaming helped sort things out and clear things up, then.... dream he would.
They first met just after his sixteenth birthday. Now, most people wouldn't consider sixteen years a very long time, but that didn't matter. Seto Kaiba *felt* old.
But after he met her, he was quite suddenly overwhelmed with feelings that hadn't disturbed his ordered mind since elementary school-- nervousness, fear, and the uncomfortable mix of his heart pounding, his blood rushing, his skin tingling, his mouth going dry, and his limbs feeling as though they'd turned to stone.
As if he were caught in some sort of ethereal, dream-like webbing, he followed her every move, every strand of hair brushed away from perfectly-shaped, deep pink lips.
And then she was in his arms, and they were dancing. He still couldn't speak, especially when she smiled like that.
She supposed it didn't matter that he didn't remember their first meeting. Reassurance came from the fact that there was probably a great deal he didn't remember from that time. Probably.
It was simply a shame she couldn't forget, too. But of all gifts Anzu Mazaki possessed, the only one she cursed was her infallible memory.
That same night as their first meeting, Seto Kaiba, in a manner quite uncharacteristic of him, dropped onto his bed with a sigh.
Mokuba, still young, slept in the same bed, as he had ever since their father --their REAL father-- died seven years ago. The last of their family-- that is, the last of their family that *cared.*
Mokuba stirred slightly, turning in his sleep. Still caught in the throes of his dreams, he vaguely heard his older brother say "She's the one. I'm going to marry her."
Mokuba merely dismissed it as a dream.
When next they "met" a great rift separated them-- as wide as a canyon, a canyon by the name of Duel Monsters. If anyone ever described Seto Kaiba as "single-minded," it was when Yuugi Mutou threatened his title as Duel Monsters champion.
All thoughts of *her* vanished-- even when she was right before his eyes.
And then he lost it all-- all his memories of that time, of their first real meeting and that first impression that seared him to his very soul. Memories ebbed away like water upon the shore... locked away in his mind after a coma filled with nightmares. And then it was gone. All of it... gone.
Occasionally, she woke up from her sleep, the remnants of a dream flickering on the edges of her mind. Blue eyes would open slowly, still clinging to the blackness and peace sleep brought.
Her breathing would quicken and her heart would pump loudly in her ears... and then she would remember.
It was as though she were remembering an old melody-- a tune from yesteryear, like that of an antique music box lost long ago. And then the other sensations would come-- pressure on her back and waist, the smell of his shampoo or cologne. He had to be the only 16-year-old she knew who wore cologne...
Sometimes, it took her a few minutes to shake away these thoughts. She tried to brush them off as silly nostalgia, but her heart lurched and ached every time she thought it.
Most nights when she dreamed, she never *could* get back to sleep.
For the longest time, Seto Kaiba slept dreamlessly. He preferred it tha way-- he didn't buy into any of the blather that said dreams were the brain's way of sorting through the chaos in your mind.
But for one night --for just an instant-- he believed it. Briefly, he recalled a time, shortly after his father died, that he'd snuck up to his uncle's study at night, trying to listen in on his uncle and aunt's conversation regarding his and Mokuba's future.
The only glimmer of light in the dark hall was that which poured through the tiny keyhole-- and when the door opened and Seto stood frozen, caught, and afraid, he only remembered one sensation-- the light of his uncle's study flooding the blackened hallway, illuminating everything.
Waking up that night was something like that. He'd *dreamed* something, he knew it, and yet... with equal certainty, he knew it was much more than that.
A memory.
From that night on, Seto Kaiba actually looked forward to falling asleep and --dare he think it?-- hopefully dreaming. But it wasn't because he liked the idea-- quite the opposite, really. He hated being confused, and if dreaming helped sort things out and clear things up, then.... dream he would.
