Those ficletish things...

[splinteredstar]

Yeah, these are some those "Outside perspective" ficlets I was talking about a post or two ago. I haven't gotten them all done, but here they are anyway. Things in parenthesis are the things I haven't written yet.


A disproportionate number have ended up being about Seto Kaiba. I suspect I should fix this. There are just too many perspectives to take with him! And he's easy to write....


Anyway. Fic.


Title: Through Other Eyes

Type: Series of ficlets of various lengths.

Rating: Oh, pg probably. Maybe a bit higher for mentions of violence.

Pairing: Mentions of fangirl obsession, but that's all. And I'm not done with those yet.

Spoilers: Whole series. And I do mean whole.

Summary: Because, despite appearances, not everyone these kids met was a psychopath, Egyptian or otherwise. Some were just normal people, passing in and out of their lives without notice. Manga-based, with lots of oc's, a couple of minor characters that have probably been forgotten about, and occasional references to Egyptian Mythology.

 As always, comments on the ideas or writing are always welcome.

 

He was just a cop. Just a normal, beat down cop that could have walked out of an old American movie – if any of them would have dared to have a Japanese star. He was one of a dozen assigned to the death of Gozaburo Kaiba, because even though it was obviously a suicide it was still Gozaburo fucking Kaiba.

 

There was something unsettling about his heir, this Seto, this boy with a politic-perfect smile and blue eyes that somehow seemed darker than they were. Something off, something not right, and the cop really didn’t know what. There were rumors that it was not suicide but patricide, and looking at those soulless, depthless eyes and that cold smirk, he could believe it.

 

Not that he’d say it to the boy’s face. He was smarter than that, and the rumors of how KaibaCorp dealt with unwanted people had permeated the underground even before Gozaburo had died.

 

He was a good cop, and all good cops knew how to read people – that’s how they survived and became good cops instead of dead cops. He was good at getting feelings from people – this one’s innocent but covering for someone, that one’s not connected even though he looks it, this one’s nothing to worry about, that one’s a threat. Those sorts of things. And all of those instincts, born out of talent and honed out of necessity, were yelling at him to get away from Seto Kaiba as fast as he could and not look back until he was out of blast range.

 

He had never been that eager to get a case over with before.

 

~

 

Seto Kaiba had millions of fans. Some of them loved his skill at games, some loved his appearance, some loved his obvious brilliance, and some all of these and more. To many of them, he was coolness in human form – especially the young boys who grew up playing his games, but were too young to remember or care about what his company did before.

 

For all his popularity, he rarely had press conferences or took chances to mingle with his fans – he did enough to look proper, but barely, and it was clear that he didn’t look forward to it. But his fans did, every one of them.

 

There was one boy who perhaps looked forward to it most of all, young and enthusiastic about the game. He was so excited – he was going to a special press conference to announce the new tournament, and he would have a chance to met Kaiba himself! Not much of a chance, but a chance nonetheless and it was enough.

 

 

He had stood in line for hours to get his ticket, and spent almost twice as long as he normally did on his appearance. He couldn’t look stupid, not when Kaiba could see him!

 

(Boy goes, place gets attacked by robbers/terrorists, Kaiba deals with them, Kaiba and boy exchange a few words)

 

Oh yeah. Kaiba was cool.

 

 

~

 

No one really knew where the young Novice Priest came from, and that only added to the fear and wariness that filled all that saw him. He was too skilled, too ready, with the ability of a man far older than he and the blue eyes of a demon. 

 

 

~

 

(Business Rival thinking about Gozaburo?)

 

~

The reporter really was surprised when she saw Yuugi Mouto, this seemingly brilliant young Game King. Yes, she had heard that he was young but….

 

…Was he always this short? He didn’t look like it when he dueled…maybe it was a trick of the cameras.

 

~

 

 

(Hanasaki about Yuugi/Yami and when he duels)

 

~

 

The nameless Pharaoh barely noticed his servants – what pharaoh would? – but they loved him, served him, and were always there.

 

 

 

 ~

 

Jounochi had started as the dog that was under the underdog, the duelist not even a fool would bet on.  But now he was a winner. A champion. A punk made good.

 

There were some that idolized him – after all, almost everyone loves an underdog, because somewhere deep inside most people it eases them. If someone like him can make it, so can they.

 

There were some that hated him. Some were angry – some no-good punk is getting the spot someone better, more proper, should have! – and some were simply jealous of him and his luck.

 

Hirutani wasn’t sure which of the second he was, but as he sat on his beat-up couch and smoked expensive foreign cigars, he knew he was fucking pissed off.

 

He and Jou had been a hell of team. They could take on anyone, any group. But then that stupid brat found his fucking friends, and they had separated. And then he refused to come back, even when Hirutani had demanded twice – and no one refused Hirutani! And now he was some sort of public idol, popular and famous and shit, while his old boss lived in the bad side of Domino and led his gang of brats.

 

Hirunati never wondered which of them had been right.

 

~

 

(Business partner and Pegsy)

 

 

~

 

Even though Malik had been born small and the birth had killed his mother, all of the other children had known he was special. He was the heir, after all, and he was an honored child. Only a child honored by the Gods would be able to hold the Pharaoh’s memories.

 

There was one child, a little bit younger than him and a little bit smaller, a female cousin of his. She looked up to him so much, always got at close as she could to him. She wasn’t allowed too close – he was the heir, after all, and he had to be taught all the old secrets to prepare him for his duty. He couldn’t be distracted.

 

One evening she saw them, Malik and Isis, his sister. They were running through the halls, laughing and trying desperately to catch each other. The girl had to smile – they were so cheerful and wonderful like that. That was how they should be able to stay, happy and laughing and perfect. She watched them for a while, until she was distracted by an adult asking her what she was doing and Malik, obviously distracted as well, careened straight into her.

 

She gasped slightly as the boy ran into her and knocked her down. He skidded to a stop before he fell over too, and then, panting a bit, offered a hand to help her up.

 

She blushed a bit, partially because this was Malik, the heir, offering her his hand, and partially because even though she hadn’t seen many boys, she could tell he was beautiful. She stared into those violet eyes – the color the sky as Ra goes down to fight through Nut again – before she took his hand gratefully and thanked him.

 

The adult started scolding him, saying that such behavior was unbefitting him and he shouldn’t have been running around. He made his apologies and excuses, before walking around a corner. Though once he was around the corner, she could hear him start to run again, apologizing to Isis for taking so long.

 

A few years later, it was time for the Ceremony that would make Malik the true Heir to the clan, the true holder of the Pharaoh’s memories. She was exited for him, everyone was, except for Malik himself it seemed. He was restless, unsettled, though she didn’t know why. This was his purpose, his ultimate duty – shouldn’t he be as exited as the rest?

 

Then the Ceremony occurred, and Malik took more time than expected to recover. When he finally emerged from his room, he was different, a bit more somber and a bit colder. But that was befitting an heir, and she didn’t worry at all. Malik was blessed by the gods, and he was strong.

 

But then he went outside once, and when he returned his father was killed – by what no one would say. Then Malik disappeared for forever to the outside, leaving his purpose and his clan and his life, and with him left one of the Sacred Items.

 

The girl was left numb, crying and wondering what went wrong.

~

 

(Fellow Archeologist thinking on Isis?)

~

 

Bakura was beautiful. All of the girls at school knew that. They had to, even if they didn’t admit it.

(Bit about Anzu, and disbelief about how she wants Yuugi instead in here somewhere)

 

 

~

 

To the priests, the rulers, and those he stole from, the King of Thieves was a rebel, a blasphemer, a monster and threat to the crown.

 

To at least a few poor kids without any hope, he was a hero.

 

Everyone heard about him, from lowest, poorest boy to the Pharaoh himself.

 
 

~

 

(Yuugi fan(girl?) thinking on Anzu)

~

 

 

There were flames everywhere, fire and blood and screams. The villagers wouldn’t stop yelling. The bloody soldiers cut them all downs mercilessly, heedlessly.

 

One soldier growled to himself as he killed. It really was butchery. He was a new soldier, on his first mission abroad. He had expected it to be against the invading army, not a domestic village. Surely their own people couldn’t have done anything worthy of this, even if they were thieves as the rumors said. But orders were orders, and even as a new recruit he knew it wasn’t wise to question the High Priest.

 

The priest had some purpose to this, some great plan, but he didn’t tell anyone anything except that it involved killing everyone in the village. The soldier wasn’t sure he wanted to know – he smelled magic on the air and the shadows around the center of town – where everyone who wasn’t killed had been driven – were too dark, even with the huge fire erected there.

 

He didn’t want to know what that was for. He especially didn’t want to know what the gold was for, or why there were so many screams – some of them from soldiers. And he really, really didn’t want to know what the blast of magic he had felt a few minutes before had been.

 

An order called out from the center of the town, to kill all the ‘rats’ that had been missed and then head back, because they were finished here. So the soldier did, heading back through the smoke and screams to an area near the center of town. He had just been through there, but he would check again. It wasn’t like he would find anything, so he headed back, searching with half a heart.

 

But then he heard someone sobbing in the ruins of a house half-burned. It was soft, desperate, the sound of someone very young. Curious and a bit sympathetic despite his orders, he followed the sound to a half-collapsed house. He looked into it, and saw a boy sitting in the ruins, weeping.

 

The boy had the most freakish white hair, and the soldier could see a wound flowing blood under the child’s left eye. Poor thing, it’ll probably scar that way…if he survives. The sympathy of the soldier was in full swing now, and he was a loss for what to do. If he let the boy go and anyone found out, he could be killed. But if he followed orders, the boy was sure to die.

 

The boy suddenly looked up at the soldier in shock, having finally noticed him. His eyes were the palest gray and even the soldier could tell his mind and heart were broken. Not that he blamed him.

 

Decision made, he quickly muttered to the kid,

 

“Hey, get out of here. I won’t tell them I saw you. If anyone else finds you you’ll be killed.”   The boy looked at him for a moment, and then shakily stood. After another moment of staring, the boy turned away and ran
through the shadows and flames to the open desert.

Poor thing, the soldier thought. He’ll probably die in the desert, but at least he won’t die here. He turned away, and didn’t hear the boy making vows of revenge and pain against the pharaoh who allowed this. If he had he might have thought twice about letting the boy live.

 

He called out that the area was all clear, and went to the gathering place with the other soldiers, steadfastly ignoring the gleaming gold items now brandished by the priests.

 

Years later, when that new recruit wasn’t so new, he was guarding the pharaoh’s tomb against blasphemous thieves who would steal the sacred gold. He didn’t think about the Sacred Items of the Priests, he didn’t think about the dark magic, and he tried his damnedest not to think about the flames and screams and smoke. He refused to remember.
 

And when a white-haired thief speed in, burning with hate and revenge and power, that guard was one of the first to die.

(End)

 

I rather like that last one...It was going to be it's own fic but I never finished it. So here it is. And the cop from the first ficlet was an oc from a story from a long, long time ago based on that very situation. There was going to be a series based around him...Which is still an interesting idea, come to think of it.


Star

Comments

[nenya85.livejournal.com]

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, getting back into the swing of things is taking even longer than I thought.

I really liked the first snippet. There’s something appealing about seeing Kaiba through a sort of objective point of view. I like how despite his youth, the cop really sees the things that make him dangerous, and somewhat unknowable. It really paints a picture of him right before Death-T. (One nit-pick – it’s a beat cop, not a beat down cop.)

I liked the one from a fan point of view – because you always see screaming fans with Kaiba and they’re not all holograms. And I can see him looking like the epitome of cool to his fans. I’d always prefer robbers or generic bad guys to terrorists, just because terrorists always jerk me out of a story, make it waaaaaaay too real and much less fun, although this could be because I’m a NYer. It’s funny if I was from almost anywhere else, I’d probably just see them as more fantasy characters.

I was really impressed with the two short ones on HP Seto and Yugi/Yami seen by the reporter, because in each you packed a lot of description and characterization into such a short space.

The last one really does seem like it could be part of a longer story. I liked the idea that Bakura’s survival was due to an act of mercy… and an act of mercy that Bakura has so thoroughly forgotten. And I liked that the guard means nothing to him, that he killed him without ever recognizing him, as well as the sense that even if he HAD recognized him it might not have changed his actions.

[starsplinter.livejournal.com]

It's all right. I've been busy myself lately.

Like I had said - there was originally an entire fic about that cop, but it was horrible and I never finished it. (The cop went on to investigate Pegsy's death and Ghouls.) It was the first in the recurring theme I mentioned. And I wanted to show Seto as someone outside shows him - not through Yuugi's forgiveness or Jou's distrust.

I've since finished drafting the fan pov one - I think I'll make it gangsters instead, because of what you mentioned. It would probably be a sensitive subject for many, and gangsters work better anyway. (After all, Kaiba corp. probably made some weapons smaller than bombs, after all. And Kaiba corp. weapons were damn good.) The end of that one currently reads, "Making games for a living, being richer than the rest of the country combined, knowing martial arts and dealing with bloodthirsty gangsters with confidence and a smirk.
Oh yeah. Kaiba was _cool._"

I'm actually not done with those two... Yuugi's just never inspired my muses very much - great guy, but I have a hard time writing about him. And I don't know much about HP Seto. I don't know what to say about either of them.

It could, really, I just don't know if I can pull more out of the situation. I thought it was a good one to end with - ending where everything starts. In my original idea, those last two paragraphs weren't there. But I added them because I thought it would be ironic emphasis to the event.

I'll work on finishing these soon...My muses have finally swung back to original fic, so I'm going to work on those for now.

S