Seto Kaiba felt as if the world were underwater. Though they sat next to him, his family's singing sounded distant and distorted by a humming that filled his ears. Everything lacked color, including the frosted birthday cake and candles approaching him. "Make a wish," he heard a girl's voice say. One of his nieces, he supposed. He watched the flames flicker on the wick, bits of wax dripping on the sides and sliding into the frosting. A wish, he thought. He wished only one thing for the longest time now. That wish was extinguished in the sharp, burning scent of the blown-out candles.

"Michi!" Mokuba scolded his youngest daughter.

"What? The wax was getting all over the cake."

"Still," he added in a harsh tone, "that wasn't appropriate."

Sachi, the oldest still no more than 10, stared at her uncle, awaiting a reaction to what just happened. A cool shadow clouded his eyes as his barren gaze fixated on the table yet nowhere at the same time.

"Uncle Seto," she called to him under her breath so as to not startle him.

"Uncle Seto," she whispered again, gently grasping the sleeve of his coat.

He awoke, blinking for a few moments as he readjusted to the real world. She gave him an uneasy smile. He looked around the room, unsure of why Michi was now looking timidly at the floor until he saw the last wisps of smoke evaporating into the air.

"It's alright," he stated. "I wasn't paying attention."

Mokuba gave a look of concern, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. He noticed his brother's condition ever since the day he came back from the afterlife, but even after several years, he had no idea how to address it. He had been to doctor after doctor, but no one was seeing this. They only seemed concerned with his physical state.

"Well," Aimi, Mokuba's wife, sighed, breaking the tension, "let's have some cake."

Aimi divided up the pieces among the four with some left over. Michi happily shoved mouthfuls of cake down her throat, washing it down with large swigs of milk. She wasn't unlike her father in that regard. Sachi ate more mindfully, scraping small bites off her plate as she kept her eye on Kaiba. He sat stiffly, focusing on the piping decorating the edge of the dessert yet it remained untouched. She knew his mind was wondering again, but his eyes were still clear.

"Are you gonna eat that?" Michi interrogated him, licking frosting from her fingers.

"Michi! That is rude. If your father or I have to tell you again—"

"It's alright," Kaiba interrupted Aimi's yelling, "I wasn't that hungry anyways."

As he turned to leave, Michi's sticky hand reached out for the plate only to be swatted away by her father. He returned upstairs to the guest room he usually stayed in when it became too late to go back to his manor.

This was a hell of a 40th birthday, he thought, sliding his shoes off and placing them under the Western-style bed. He allowed himself to fall back onto the satin covers, the only kind he cared to sleep in, feeling their silkiness with his fingertips as he stared up at the ceiling. He tried to make out shapes of recognizable things in the ornate patterns, but he saw only what looked like vines outstretching and branching off forever. Boring. He turned to his side, lifting the rest of his body onto the bed as he curled into himself. Why couldn't he have one normal day? Not for his sake, but for Mokuba's at least.

Because I don't want to be here, he reminded himself. That intrusive thought entered his brain multiple times a day like a fair-weather friend who keeps coming to visit. He expected the visit though and the routine somehow comforted him. On the rare days he forgot about it, something felt off, missing in fact.

He turned back to the door as he heard it open. "Mokuba," he murmured.

Mokuba closed the door, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He smiled the way only two close people can, with a sense of warmth and knowledge. "Seto," he exhaled and all the years of experience between them filled the room. It stayed quiet for a moment as Mokuba took in the surroundings, trying to find the right thing to say. Instead, he placed a hand over his brothers. They lasted like that for a long while. In those moments, Kaiba struggled for an answer to Mokuba's unspoken question but failed. He thought about a lot in that darkness, about what he wanted to say. He wanted to thank him for trying to throw a nice little birthday party. He wanted to apologize for being like this. Even so, another part of him wanted to yell at him forever bringing him back in the first place. In moments of anger like that, Kaiba closed and imagined himself back in the afterlife.

There was a steady breeze that combed through the palm trees along the Nile. The water glistened like stars and swirled like galaxies as it poured into the ocean. It was a cool but deep shade of blue a reflection of his own eyes. He remembered dipping his hands into the warm river, the current rushing through his fingertips. He remembered thinking it couldn't be real, but it was. What left him speechless and his heart beating faster though was the sight of him. The pharaoh, Atem, his figure standing strong even as the wind picked up.

"We meet again, Kaiba," he smirked.

But before Kaiba could say anything the vision would end and he found himself staring at an empty space on the wall, his brother's hand giving a little squeeze. He seemed unaware that Kaiba was still awake and didn't check before slipping out of the room.

Hours past and he laid awake, restless, his eyes tracing the designs on the ceiling. He couldn't get Mokuba or the Pharaoh out of his head and he almost felt guilty for making them compete for a space in his mind. How many years had it been since he woke up? Seven? Ten? He had lost count by now. He only knew that every day away from the afterlife felt like limbo. Only one thing numbed that conflict between this world and the next.

Kaiba crept downstairs to the kitchen, careful to at least not wake the girls. Next to the refrigerator, Mokuba and his wife kept a select quantity of liquors for guests, although there was an unspoken rule that he should stay away. After all, if Mokuba caught him drinking again...well, he was a grown man. His younger brother's opinion shouldn't matter. Of course, he intended to replace whatever he drank with, preferably, something better than Suntory whiskey. He never understood why his brother insisted on living a middle-class lifestyle when he could've had all the money he wanted. Instead, Mokuba preferred a life away from KaibaCorp and away from the wealth. He decided to step down as Vice President once Kaiba returned. He took a sip, wincing as the spicy booze burned his throat. He had to admit, though, for cheap whiskey, it was drinkable. As soon as he knocked back his first glass, he immediately poured another one. And another. And another. He continued until half the bottle was gone. By this point, alcohol barely affected him, but he could feel the familiar flush in his cheeks rising. While he always promised himself he would stop at this point, he never did and thought it was just best to take the bottle upstairs where he could drink himself to sleep.

Before he could, he would have to get past Sachi who snuck up on him at some point while he'd been guzzling away.

"Why are you awake?" He hissed.

"You don't tell anyone I'm here to grab an extra slice of cake, and I say nothing about that bottle of whiskey," she stated matter-of-factly, making a zipper motion across her lips.

He felt bad making a deal like that, thinking he should be a better uncle and tell her to go back to sleep, but he had no choice. "Fine."

She nodded and went to the fridge, cut a slice, sat at the table, and patted the space next to her.

"No thanks, I think I'll go back upstairs."

"Nu-huh, if I get caught I need you here with me to say you let me."

He scoffed. She was a bold girl. "And what makes you think I'd do that?"

"Because," she smiled with feigned innocence, "is dad going to be more mad about the cake or you drinking again?"

Snorting in disgust, he accepted his defeat and sat next to her.

"Why do you drink so much anyway?" She asked, taking in a bite of her cake.

"Why are you stuffing your face at midnight?"

She shrugged, "I have exams coming up and I needed some brain fuel. Now as for you, I don't think you can use the same excuse. What are you trying to forget?"

Shaking his head, he thought about how astute she was, too astute in fact. "Why have you drank to forget?" He teased.

"I'm ten," she replied in disbelief. "I know that alcohol makes people forget things though and numbs the senses. It's also a depressant so it actually will make your mood worse."

"And where did you learn all this?"

"The junior high biology textbook. They're thinking of bumping me up a few grades."

"You should really be in private school," he noted, taking another swig of whiskey. "I don't know why your father won't let me send you. You'd get a better education."

"Dad says he doesn't want to put the pressure on me. Says I need to be a kid."

He lifted the glass to his lips. "Well, I can't say I blame him for wanting that."

He never really thought of it before, but now he wondered how Mokuba reacted to Kaiba's schooling. All this time, he separated their experiences into his own bringing and his brother's, but never how the two intertwined. What was it like to watch your older brother go through that kind of grueling day in and day out torture and not be able to do a thing? To feel so helpless, the way Kaiba felt at times when he couldn't protect his brother. He guessed that was why Mokuba was so against pressuring his children to work hard, though, Sachi did anyways. She was a natural perfectionist not unlike her uncle. In fact, they were so alike it was uncanny at times. Not that, that was the most uncanny thing he'd experienced in all his years.

"So, you never answered me, whatcha trying to forget?"

He sat silently for a moment, contemplating.

"Good memories." *************************************************************************************************

In the morning, Kaiba hardly wanted to leave the bed, his head pounding in pain. Damnit, he thought to himself, why did I have to drink that much? He turned over to look at the empty whiskey bottle on the floor, surprisingly him. He really did drink a lot. He supposed today would be a late day at the office. Until his brother came barging in.

"Seto, wake up!" He yelled.

Seething, Kaiba grabbed his temple. "Can you please be quieter?" He groaned.

Mokuba frowned as he picked up the bottle. "Really, Seto? Really?"

"Happy birthday to me," he sang, slurring the words.

"Well, too bad! You have to get up. Your driver's here to pick you up for your doctor's appointment.

"That old man? I'm not seeing him today," he said, curling up again.

Mokuba pulled the covers off him. "You have to. I've heard you've missed several appointments? You can't do that with your heart in its condition!"

"Stop yelling," he grumbled. "I'm not getting up."

Mokuba scowled and proceeded to open all the curtains in the room. The sunlight pierced Kaiba's eyes, stinging like a thousand wasps.

"Damnit, Mokuba, I'm not getting up!"

"You are." He nagged.

"I. Am. Not."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. You. Are. It's my house anyways, I can kick you out."

"What are you going to do?" Kaiba snickered. "Call the cops?"

"No, because they wouldn't dare arrest you, but I'll throw you right out."

"Please," he scoffed. "You couldn't pick me up if I was a gallon of milk."

Mokuba snorted, accepting his challenge and in one fluid motion slid his arms underneath his brother, picked him up, and threw him over his shoulder. Kaiba was stunned for a moment, regretting his little retort. When had Mokuba gotten so strong?

"Put me down," Kaiba insisted, concealing the acidity in his voice.

Mokuba continued to carry him, seemingly deaf to Kaiba's requests.

"Put. Me. Down. Now," he added more forcefully this time.

"Make me."

Now, Mokuba would regret challenging him. Kaiba crossed his arms over his brother's torso and shifted all of his weight backward. Take aback, Mokuba had no time to strengthen his stance. Both came crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Mokuba groaned, but Kaiba let out a searing gasp of pain as the pain in his lower back radiated throughout his spine. In his younger years, this was a technique he would perform without thinking twice, but as he lay on the floor wincing he definitely rethought his decision.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Mokuba yelled.

Aimi and the children came barrelling out of their rooms. "What's going on?" Aimi asked frantically, helping her husband sit upright.

"Because you wouldn't put me down!" Kaiba lost his breath as each word caused more pain.

"Well, smartass, look what you did now."

"Mokuba, tell me what's going on!" Aimi panicked.

"Just help me up so I can go to the doctor."

"Oh," Mokuba arose and offered his brother a hand, "NOW, you want to go to the doctor."

Kaiba took his brother hand, crying out as Mokuba tried to lift him up. "Yeah, because you broke my back."

"I did nothing. You did that all on your own."

"Because you wouldn't put me down!" Kaiba growled.

"Alright, alright," Aimi crossed her arms in an X. "Enough! Let's just get you two to the doctor."

"The driver is downstairs," Mokuba explained, "Let's just get him down there. I'll be fine."

"No," Kaiba shot back. "You should go too. Ride with me."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you right now." He sighed, "but I should go."

Carefully, Mokuba lifted his brother and leaned him on his shoulder. Every step felt like agony, especially the stairs as the shock made his back pulse uncontrollably. His brother tried to comfort him, but the pain was just too much. The concern annoyed him and managed to worsen his aching back. Once the driver saw the two outside, he leaped from the car, eager to help his boss.

"Sir, are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, I'm feeling just dandy thank you," Kaiba sneered. "What does it look like, Moriyama?"

He apologized, bowing. "Allow me to assist you, sir." He helped Mokuba prop Kaiba up on the left side, easing him into the back seat of the car. He winced through the process but eventually found a decent position to sit in. As the car pulled forward, Kaiba realized every bump sent him into a fit of agony.

"Moriyama, can't you drive any better?" Kaiba snapped, seething. "What do I pay you for?"

"Sir, I'll be more careful, sir."

"Relax, bro," Mokuba placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "he's doing his best."

Kaiba snapped again. "You're not the one writhing right now, Mokuba."

"Just think of something else," Mokuba retorted, trying to hide his contempt for his brother's piss-poor attitude. "Like your original reason for your doctor's appointment. Worry about that instead."

Though he hid it well, Kaiba secretly was concerned about this appointment. It's why he had blown it off several times. Traveling to the afterlife had put an incredible strain on his body. He was close to dying at the point Mokuba brought him back. His organ function was abysmal, his brain waves barely showed any signs of life. At one point, the doctors were prepared to pronounce him deceased. He managed to pull through, however, to his dismay to this day. He remembered vividly how he woke up. One minute he was with the Pharaoh who had his servants bringing him water and food to try to keep his spirits up. Even in the afterlife, he was suffering, but he wanted to stay. To duel the Pharaoh again. And again. To be with the only person who inspired him to strive for greatness even if he was spending his days in bed, too weak to function. When he awoke, it was like a switch had gone off. One moment he was gazing upon the Pharaoh and the next he was looking into Mokuba's pleading eyes.

"You're awake," Mokuba exclaimed tearfully. "It worked!"

His brother and the doctors congratulated each other on the success of the operation until Kaiba tore off his oxygen mask in a rage. "Bring me back, right now!" he bellowed. "How dare you."

He didn't care about his brother's confused and then hurt expression. The doctors tried to rationalize that Kaiba was in a highly emotional state due to exertion. "To hell with your medical blabber, " Kaiba shouted. "I want to go back. Now. Return me to the Pharaoh."

His brother tried to soothe him, stroking his hair and offering words of encouragement, but it was useless. Kaiba jerked and twisted his body, attempting to break free of the restraints, screaming the Pharaoh's name. The doctors pushed a torn Mokuba out of the way and forced his body against the bed as they inserted a needle into his outer thigh. He felt sleepy, exhausted. The room swayed side to side and his eyes could no longer stay open. They drugged him, he realized. He continued to mumble, "Pharaoh, Pharaoh," as he drifted into a deep slumber.

Since then, Kaiba tried to understand his brother's decision, but he could never forgive him. Especially because his heart took such a hit. At his last doctor's visit, his heart function declined to 50%. Not to mention his liver enzymes were elevated due to all the drinking. Before all this, Kaiba was the perfect picture of health. He trained hard physically and mentally, he ate only the freshest, finest foods, never touched alcohol or smoked. Having to admit poor health was like admitting he had faults. God knows Kaiba couldn't do that. At the very least, his current trip down memory lane was distracting him from his back.

The car pulled up to the Kaiba Corp medical center, one of Kaiba's many owned facilities. His company had reached its hands far into the market, buying hospitals, transportation facilities, department stores. They even started their own clothing and beauty line to attract more women into the gaming market. While it seemed like a low bearing fruit, it produced the desired results-more women bought Duel Disks along with Duel Monsters themed lip balm. Their vast industries prompted a new slogan: KaibaCorp, The Leader in Excellence. Kaiba and Mokuba entered the building and checked in, respectively, to their appointments. Of course, even while Mokuba's was impromptu, he wouldn't have to wait. The perks of being the CEO's brother.

A young, fairly pretty nurse monitored Kaiba's vitals. As each result came in, she would frown without saying a word to the point where it finally aggravated him.

"Would you just tell me what you found?" he growled.

She gave another frown. "I'm afraid the doctor will want to speak to you about your results, Mr. Kaiba." And with that, she exited the room.

Shortly after, Doctor Tagomi arrived. He was an older man, his clean-shaven face giving away every hardship in his life. Kaiba considered himself fairly lucky in that regard. Forty years old and the only tell-tale sign was a few gray hairs beside his ears and a smile line on his left side from smirking too often.

"Mr. Kaiba, pleased to see you," he said, smiling, but Kaiba knew it was a small jab for missing his other appointments. "Your back is fine, just a slight tear in the muscle. Alternate warm and cold compresses on it. As you know the nurse checked your vitals and there are some...concerning numbers."

"Yeah, yeah," he rushed the doctor. "Just give me the news."

"Mr. Kaiba, this is no time to be hasty. In fact, it's very serious. To be frank, your heart function does not look good-"

"Just give me the number, Doc."

Tagomi let out a long, concerned sigh. "25%"

Though Kaiba rarely wore his emotions so openly, he couldn't contain his shock. His eyes stared widely at the doctor, hoping for some kind of good news to offset this while knowing there was none.

"That's...that's half of what it was a year ago."

"And it will only get worse, Mr. Kaiba, if you keep refusing to take the medication I've prescribed," he added. sternly. "You have yet to pick it up from the pharmacy."

"I'm busy," Kaiba stated matter of factly and looked away.

"You're not going to be busy much longer. If you keep this up, you'll be dead."

He didn't respond as that answer neither shocked nor concerned him as much as the doctor would've liked. He looked into Kaiba's wandering eyes, searching for a hint of fright, finding none.

"Is that what you want, Mr. Kaiba?"

"Of course not," he replied hastily though unconvincing.

"I see." The doctor turned to his computer and typed. "I'm resending your prescription to the pharmacy, do try and pick it up. Along with the water pills and the beta-blocker, I'm prescribing sertraline."

Sertraline. The name sounded familiar. "Isn't that Zoloft?"

"Yes, I believe you're experiencing symptoms of depression possibly due to PTSD."

"PTSD? From what?"

"Well, Mr. Kaiba, possibly from multiple events and only you can determine that. It could be from the shock of returning from the afterlife. It could be because of your divorce. Maybe even as far back as your parents' death."

The divorce. Another one of Mokuba's bright ideas gone sour. In an attempt to give him a normal life, Mokuba set him up with some millionaires beautiful daughter. Kaiba was so far gone at that point, he had no strength to say no. So they got married and stayed married for three miserable years until she did something so unspeakable he couldn't stand to look at her. He couldn't even stand to think of her now.

Of course, the doctor didn't know that Kaiba led a traumatic childhood after his adoption. The grueling day in and day out studying regiment Gozoboro put him through. How he was deprived of sleep, force-fed caffeine to stay awake. How he was denied food or water until he finished that last chapter or solved that last equation. Not to mention the constant berating comments of how he would never be good enough, how he would never succeed. How he was just an orphan brat. How his parents were happier dead than seeing what a failure they gave birth to.

"There's no PTSD," he replied flatly.

"Really? No flashbacks? No overwhelming memories? Hypervigilance. You know overachieving can be a form of hypervigilance-"

"I said I don't have PTSD. There's nothing wrong with me," he snapped.

"Mr. Kaiba, it wouldn't be your fault."

"Listen," Kaiba arose from the medical bed, "I've had just about enough of your half-cocked theories, Doc. If you don't want to be fired and have your medical license revoked, I suggest you stop talking. Now."

Before the doctor could say another word, Kaiba limped out of the room.

Mokuba was coming up the hallway, his eyebrows furrowed. He spoke softly, "Um, bro." I-"

"Mokuba, get in the car, we're leaving."

"But, Seto, this is-"

"Does no one listen to me? I'm a god damn CEO. Do as I say and get in the car."

Mokuba shoved a copy of the day's newspaper in his face. Outraged, Kaiba almost tore it in half before a familiar picture caught his attention. Yugi, older with gray hair peppering his jet black hair, but it was still him. His warm smile brought back memories of Duelist Kingdom and Battle City, of fighting foes, and his encouragement despite it all. Yugi Moto, a name he hadn't heard in years, dead at 40.