Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh! > Future Lover
Remembrance
0 reviewsWhat if Seto knew what Yami's true name was from the start? Will he tell Yami? If he did, will all those memories come rushing back to the unnamed pharaoh? What if...Seto had been waiting for Yami ...
0Unrated
Chapter One: Remembrance
“Who are you?” the blue eyed brunette asked the boy who had lightning blonde bangs and crimson tipped hair. The boy had apparently appeared out of nowhere, and entered his room while he was reading a book as he was seated on his bed. He thought the boy was roughly his age, around seven or eight. In his age, he should understand him.
“Hm?” the boy put down the yellow rubber duck back on top of the green folded towel that rested on the bed on the other side of the room and looked at him.
“Who are you?” the brunette repeated, his voice did not have any hint of irritation, for he thought the boy did not understand English. The boy was wearing what appeared to be a tunic, and he could not believe that the boy was actually wearing gold wristbands on both his wrists, and also what appeared to be a gold choker and gold stud earrings. Aside from the abnormal form of his hair, he also had the weirdest eyes. But even though he thought those eyes were weird, he also thought that they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. His orbs were a lovely shade of combined crimson and purple.
“Oh, that’s easy. My name’s Atemu. What’s yours?” he said, and approached him.
“S-seto.”
“Seto?” the boy though for a second. “Your name sounds like the name of my older cousin. But yours sounds weirder.”
Seto took that offensively. “How did my name sound so weird?” he demanded.
Atemu climbed on the bed and sat beside Seto, taking a glimpse of what Seto was reading. “Well, my cousin’s name is Seth, yours is Seto. See?”
Seto thought for a second. Seth sounded weirder than Seto, but he let it pass. It was useless arguing over some name. “Why are you here? Where did you come from?”
“To tell you the truth I don’t know why I’m here. The last thing I remember was I was with my Grandfather and Father, who were in a duel. I think a spell went wrong. Oh, and I’m from Egypt.” He explained, looking around him. “Your room is small.”
Spells? Egypt? “Of course it’s small. It’s only my brother and I who sleep here. If we were five or ten, then we will be able to sleep in the big rooms.”
“Where are we anyways?” Atemu asked, lying down on Seto’s bed and staring at the ceiling.
“We’re in orphanage.” Seto answered, putting away the book he was reading under his pillow.
Atemu sat up in surprise. “You’re an orphan?!” he exclaimed. “Where are your parents? Do you they not want you? Have they neglected-”
Seto was shocked that Atemu spoke as if he were an adult. It was as if he was a genius like the adults who had tried to adopt him said. “My parents are dead. My mother died when she gave birth to my brother, and my father fell into depression after that, leading to him into an alcoholic state that caused his death.”
“Wine caused your father’s death?” Atemu asked, “How can wine kill a person-”
“He was driving home drunk from the car,”
“Driving?”
“Yeah. Driving a car?”
“What’s a car? Is it some kind of carriage?”
Seto couldn’t believe that the boy he was talking to didn’t know anything about cars. It also occurred to him that maybe this boy didn’t know anything about cars at all. So again, he didn’t force the topic on him. “Yes,”
“I’m sorry that your parents are dead,”
“It’s ok,” said Seto. “My father didn’t care about us anymore when our Mom died. All he did was swear at me and drink.”
Atemu tried to think of something to take subject away from Seto’s parents. He couldn’t think of anything else other than games, games which he and his cousin whom he had mentioned earlier played when they managed to escaped from their teacher. “Don’t you have anything else to do other than read? It’s boring. Do you have any games we can play?”
Seto hopped off the bed. “We can play chess.” He took out an old battered wooden chessboard from under his bed.
“Great!” Atemu hopped off the bed as well and sat on the floor together with Seto who had already gotten a hold of the white chess pieces. “I get to be black?”
“Yes.”
“No fair! I wanna be white!”
“It’s my chessboard, so I get to be white.”
“Fine.”
“I’m going to win anyways.”
“And what makes you so sure about that?” Atemu raised a brow.
“I’ve beaten adults in chess that are four to five time older than me,” said Seto, putting his King in place, and waiting for Atemu to finish putting his pieces in place. “I think I can beat you fairly easy,”
Atemu smirked. “Let’s see about that.”
Pawns were moved, bishops were eaten, knights forming Ls as they ate rooks and pawns, Kings moving one space in each direction, and Queens were hopping across the board, attacking the pieces on defense, as she protected the king. Atemu won, and Seto lost. “You have got to be kidding me!” said Seto.
“I told you that I would beat you.”
Seto sighed, “I’ve never been beaten before.” He said putting the pieces back in the board.
“Well, now you have, and maybe you can devise a strategy that can beat what I have done,” Atemu smiled at him, and Seto blushed.
There was something about this boy that was different. Most boys like himself did not want to play chess just because he was bored. Most boys would ask if his playmate had toy cars, or airplanes, or small soldiers. And besides, boys don’t smile at other boys the way he did. That smile was the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Even sweeter than the smiles the girls in the orphanage give him when they flirt with him.
“So, what do we do next?” Atemu stood up and toured the room. Seto thought for a second. All he did in his free time was sketch, read, play chess with the people in the orphanage who took care of the children, and tell stories to his little brother, who was now in the yard, playing with the other boys his age. “You drew this?” he said, picking up the sheets of drawing paper sketched with still life, and a little boy who had long black hair playing with toys, in the sandbox, sleeping, everything, not believing that Seto could draw something so real.
“Yes. That’s my little brother. His name is Mokuba,” Seto pointed at the drawing of his brother playing in the sandbox.
“How old is he?” he asked, flipping through the sheets.
“He’s three,” Seto took a pencil and blank sheet of drawing paper. He started to draw, glancing occasionally at Atemu who had taken a liking to the book that was on Mokuba’s bed.
While Atemu was busy being fascinated with the pictures of different kinds of animals printed in the book. “This is amazing. How did you put so many colors on pa-” a white sheet of black shaded paper came in between him and the animal book he was scanning. “That’s…that’s…”
“You.” Seto finished, giving him a rough sketch of him reading Mokuba’s book. “Would you mind if I drew you again? You can have that one if you want,”
“I can have it?”
“Of course.”
“And you want to draw me again?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your hair, it’s nice to draw. It’s more erratic than my brother’s hair, so I like a challenge,”
Atemu was silent for a moment. “Ok, you can draw me again. But first, I want to give you this,” Atemu took off the gold dragon pendant he wore and put it around Seto’s neck. “I hope you like it,” the dragon was formed like it was curled up, like flying up in a circle.
Seto held the pendant in his hand, staring at the glowing metal. “It’s so pretty,”
“Do you promise me that you’ll keep it?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Good! You can draw me now.” Seto smiled in delight, and grabbed another sheet of drawing paper, and started sketching. In a few minutes, he was done, and put the date on the lower right corner of his drawing with his kanji signature. Seto 07.09.2000.
“Your Highness!” a man in robes and gold jewelry entered the room, startling both boys. His robes were of the same color of Atemu’s tunic.
“Mahaado?”
The man named Mahaado approached Atemu. “Are you alright, Your Highness? Does anything hurt?” and he noticed Seto standing by the bed, pencil and sketch in hand. “Who are you? Why are you with His Highness?”
“It’s alright, Mahaado, this is my friend, Seto. He kept me company. And I beat him in chess!” he said, then turned to Seto. “I guess it’s time for me to go,”
“Wait, if he called you ‘Your Highness,’ then you’re a prince?!”
“Yes.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah, I know.” Atemu smiled. “Thanks for everything, Seto, especially my portrait. I’ll never forget you,” he gave Seto a peck on his cheek, and left with Mahaado.
“W-wait! I wanna know-” he ran after them into the hall, but they had disappeared. “-when you’ll come back…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seto held the gold dragon in his hand as he stood looking out at the skyline of Domino City in his office. That had happened nine years ago, and he still hadn’t forgotten about the prince that visited him. He had looked up every book about pharaohs, every book about Egypt, and had visited every library he could get to whenever he was out of the country. He couldn’t find anything about him, until that day in the Egyptian exhibit with Ishizu.
Was he right? Was the other Yuugi that prince? He couldn’t tell. But he had the feeling that he was, and the feeling that he should beat him in Duel Monsters, just like how he wanted to beat him at chess eight years ago. But how could be that the other Yuugi was that prince? How could it have happened? That tabulate was from 3000 years ago, and he met that prince eight years ago.
“Hey, Niisama,” Mokuba entered the office, and threw his bag on the sofa, and sitting beside.
Seto felt like he needed to tell someone. “Mokuba, I need to talk to you about something, but I feel that you might think that I’m going insane, or that I’m only making this up,” he took out a clear-book full of his sketches. “Come, sit here,”
Mokuba did as he was told, and sat on the chair before Seto’s desk. “Yes?”
“Do you know who this is?” Seto flipped through the pages, and showed Mokuba the picture he had drawn that day.
“That’s Yami, the other Yuugi,” said Mokuba, “But wow, you drew him as a child,”
“No, Mokuba, look at the date,” Seto pointed at his signature.
Mokuba’s eyes widened. “July 9, 2000?!” he exclaimed. “That was nine years ago!”
“Yeah…”
“You met Yami nine years ago?! How?!”
“I don’t even know myself,” Seto sighed and sat down.
“You seemed disappointed,” Mokuba had noticed that Seto had become sad. “Is there something wrong?”
“Before he left with that robed guy nine years ago, he told me that I’ll never forget me,” Seto admitted. He had never told anyone this. “And I told myself to never forget him,” he held up the gold dragon necklace he had been given.
“Whoa…Seto, when and where did you buy that?” Mokuba asked, watching the dragon twirl in midair. “That’s so cool!”
“He gave it me when I drew him,” Seto put it back in his pocket, where it had been safe for the past nine years. “I gave him my first sketch of him, and I drew him again before he left. This is it,” he handed Mokuba the clear book, and scanned it, seeing that Seto had attempted drawing him in modern clothes, and older.
“Ra, Seto, these are amazing,”
“I have go talk to him about these,” he took the clear book from Mokuba’s hands and put it in his suitcase.
“What?”
“You heard what I said. I’m going to the Mutous.” Said Seto as he put on his coat after fixing his tie for a bit.
“Who are you?” the blue eyed brunette asked the boy who had lightning blonde bangs and crimson tipped hair. The boy had apparently appeared out of nowhere, and entered his room while he was reading a book as he was seated on his bed. He thought the boy was roughly his age, around seven or eight. In his age, he should understand him.
“Hm?” the boy put down the yellow rubber duck back on top of the green folded towel that rested on the bed on the other side of the room and looked at him.
“Who are you?” the brunette repeated, his voice did not have any hint of irritation, for he thought the boy did not understand English. The boy was wearing what appeared to be a tunic, and he could not believe that the boy was actually wearing gold wristbands on both his wrists, and also what appeared to be a gold choker and gold stud earrings. Aside from the abnormal form of his hair, he also had the weirdest eyes. But even though he thought those eyes were weird, he also thought that they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. His orbs were a lovely shade of combined crimson and purple.
“Oh, that’s easy. My name’s Atemu. What’s yours?” he said, and approached him.
“S-seto.”
“Seto?” the boy though for a second. “Your name sounds like the name of my older cousin. But yours sounds weirder.”
Seto took that offensively. “How did my name sound so weird?” he demanded.
Atemu climbed on the bed and sat beside Seto, taking a glimpse of what Seto was reading. “Well, my cousin’s name is Seth, yours is Seto. See?”
Seto thought for a second. Seth sounded weirder than Seto, but he let it pass. It was useless arguing over some name. “Why are you here? Where did you come from?”
“To tell you the truth I don’t know why I’m here. The last thing I remember was I was with my Grandfather and Father, who were in a duel. I think a spell went wrong. Oh, and I’m from Egypt.” He explained, looking around him. “Your room is small.”
Spells? Egypt? “Of course it’s small. It’s only my brother and I who sleep here. If we were five or ten, then we will be able to sleep in the big rooms.”
“Where are we anyways?” Atemu asked, lying down on Seto’s bed and staring at the ceiling.
“We’re in orphanage.” Seto answered, putting away the book he was reading under his pillow.
Atemu sat up in surprise. “You’re an orphan?!” he exclaimed. “Where are your parents? Do you they not want you? Have they neglected-”
Seto was shocked that Atemu spoke as if he were an adult. It was as if he was a genius like the adults who had tried to adopt him said. “My parents are dead. My mother died when she gave birth to my brother, and my father fell into depression after that, leading to him into an alcoholic state that caused his death.”
“Wine caused your father’s death?” Atemu asked, “How can wine kill a person-”
“He was driving home drunk from the car,”
“Driving?”
“Yeah. Driving a car?”
“What’s a car? Is it some kind of carriage?”
Seto couldn’t believe that the boy he was talking to didn’t know anything about cars. It also occurred to him that maybe this boy didn’t know anything about cars at all. So again, he didn’t force the topic on him. “Yes,”
“I’m sorry that your parents are dead,”
“It’s ok,” said Seto. “My father didn’t care about us anymore when our Mom died. All he did was swear at me and drink.”
Atemu tried to think of something to take subject away from Seto’s parents. He couldn’t think of anything else other than games, games which he and his cousin whom he had mentioned earlier played when they managed to escaped from their teacher. “Don’t you have anything else to do other than read? It’s boring. Do you have any games we can play?”
Seto hopped off the bed. “We can play chess.” He took out an old battered wooden chessboard from under his bed.
“Great!” Atemu hopped off the bed as well and sat on the floor together with Seto who had already gotten a hold of the white chess pieces. “I get to be black?”
“Yes.”
“No fair! I wanna be white!”
“It’s my chessboard, so I get to be white.”
“Fine.”
“I’m going to win anyways.”
“And what makes you so sure about that?” Atemu raised a brow.
“I’ve beaten adults in chess that are four to five time older than me,” said Seto, putting his King in place, and waiting for Atemu to finish putting his pieces in place. “I think I can beat you fairly easy,”
Atemu smirked. “Let’s see about that.”
Pawns were moved, bishops were eaten, knights forming Ls as they ate rooks and pawns, Kings moving one space in each direction, and Queens were hopping across the board, attacking the pieces on defense, as she protected the king. Atemu won, and Seto lost. “You have got to be kidding me!” said Seto.
“I told you that I would beat you.”
Seto sighed, “I’ve never been beaten before.” He said putting the pieces back in the board.
“Well, now you have, and maybe you can devise a strategy that can beat what I have done,” Atemu smiled at him, and Seto blushed.
There was something about this boy that was different. Most boys like himself did not want to play chess just because he was bored. Most boys would ask if his playmate had toy cars, or airplanes, or small soldiers. And besides, boys don’t smile at other boys the way he did. That smile was the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Even sweeter than the smiles the girls in the orphanage give him when they flirt with him.
“So, what do we do next?” Atemu stood up and toured the room. Seto thought for a second. All he did in his free time was sketch, read, play chess with the people in the orphanage who took care of the children, and tell stories to his little brother, who was now in the yard, playing with the other boys his age. “You drew this?” he said, picking up the sheets of drawing paper sketched with still life, and a little boy who had long black hair playing with toys, in the sandbox, sleeping, everything, not believing that Seto could draw something so real.
“Yes. That’s my little brother. His name is Mokuba,” Seto pointed at the drawing of his brother playing in the sandbox.
“How old is he?” he asked, flipping through the sheets.
“He’s three,” Seto took a pencil and blank sheet of drawing paper. He started to draw, glancing occasionally at Atemu who had taken a liking to the book that was on Mokuba’s bed.
While Atemu was busy being fascinated with the pictures of different kinds of animals printed in the book. “This is amazing. How did you put so many colors on pa-” a white sheet of black shaded paper came in between him and the animal book he was scanning. “That’s…that’s…”
“You.” Seto finished, giving him a rough sketch of him reading Mokuba’s book. “Would you mind if I drew you again? You can have that one if you want,”
“I can have it?”
“Of course.”
“And you want to draw me again?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your hair, it’s nice to draw. It’s more erratic than my brother’s hair, so I like a challenge,”
Atemu was silent for a moment. “Ok, you can draw me again. But first, I want to give you this,” Atemu took off the gold dragon pendant he wore and put it around Seto’s neck. “I hope you like it,” the dragon was formed like it was curled up, like flying up in a circle.
Seto held the pendant in his hand, staring at the glowing metal. “It’s so pretty,”
“Do you promise me that you’ll keep it?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Good! You can draw me now.” Seto smiled in delight, and grabbed another sheet of drawing paper, and started sketching. In a few minutes, he was done, and put the date on the lower right corner of his drawing with his kanji signature. Seto 07.09.2000.
“Your Highness!” a man in robes and gold jewelry entered the room, startling both boys. His robes were of the same color of Atemu’s tunic.
“Mahaado?”
The man named Mahaado approached Atemu. “Are you alright, Your Highness? Does anything hurt?” and he noticed Seto standing by the bed, pencil and sketch in hand. “Who are you? Why are you with His Highness?”
“It’s alright, Mahaado, this is my friend, Seto. He kept me company. And I beat him in chess!” he said, then turned to Seto. “I guess it’s time for me to go,”
“Wait, if he called you ‘Your Highness,’ then you’re a prince?!”
“Yes.”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah, I know.” Atemu smiled. “Thanks for everything, Seto, especially my portrait. I’ll never forget you,” he gave Seto a peck on his cheek, and left with Mahaado.
“W-wait! I wanna know-” he ran after them into the hall, but they had disappeared. “-when you’ll come back…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seto held the gold dragon in his hand as he stood looking out at the skyline of Domino City in his office. That had happened nine years ago, and he still hadn’t forgotten about the prince that visited him. He had looked up every book about pharaohs, every book about Egypt, and had visited every library he could get to whenever he was out of the country. He couldn’t find anything about him, until that day in the Egyptian exhibit with Ishizu.
Was he right? Was the other Yuugi that prince? He couldn’t tell. But he had the feeling that he was, and the feeling that he should beat him in Duel Monsters, just like how he wanted to beat him at chess eight years ago. But how could be that the other Yuugi was that prince? How could it have happened? That tabulate was from 3000 years ago, and he met that prince eight years ago.
“Hey, Niisama,” Mokuba entered the office, and threw his bag on the sofa, and sitting beside.
Seto felt like he needed to tell someone. “Mokuba, I need to talk to you about something, but I feel that you might think that I’m going insane, or that I’m only making this up,” he took out a clear-book full of his sketches. “Come, sit here,”
Mokuba did as he was told, and sat on the chair before Seto’s desk. “Yes?”
“Do you know who this is?” Seto flipped through the pages, and showed Mokuba the picture he had drawn that day.
“That’s Yami, the other Yuugi,” said Mokuba, “But wow, you drew him as a child,”
“No, Mokuba, look at the date,” Seto pointed at his signature.
Mokuba’s eyes widened. “July 9, 2000?!” he exclaimed. “That was nine years ago!”
“Yeah…”
“You met Yami nine years ago?! How?!”
“I don’t even know myself,” Seto sighed and sat down.
“You seemed disappointed,” Mokuba had noticed that Seto had become sad. “Is there something wrong?”
“Before he left with that robed guy nine years ago, he told me that I’ll never forget me,” Seto admitted. He had never told anyone this. “And I told myself to never forget him,” he held up the gold dragon necklace he had been given.
“Whoa…Seto, when and where did you buy that?” Mokuba asked, watching the dragon twirl in midair. “That’s so cool!”
“He gave it me when I drew him,” Seto put it back in his pocket, where it had been safe for the past nine years. “I gave him my first sketch of him, and I drew him again before he left. This is it,” he handed Mokuba the clear book, and scanned it, seeing that Seto had attempted drawing him in modern clothes, and older.
“Ra, Seto, these are amazing,”
“I have go talk to him about these,” he took the clear book from Mokuba’s hands and put it in his suitcase.
“What?”
“You heard what I said. I’m going to the Mutous.” Said Seto as he put on his coat after fixing his tie for a bit.
Sign up to rate and review this story