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Chapter 11

       When Seto opened his eyes he was no longer in the chamber.  Instead he was in a large courtyard filled with flowers and people.  The first thing that struck him was the beauty of the place, and the warmth of the sun.  The second was the appearance of the people around him.

       <They’re dressed in traditional Egyptian garb.> He thought, but it didn’t really seem all that unusual when he thought about it.

       He felt someone watching him and turned around to see a hooded figure in the back of the crowd.  He didn’t know why, but he suspected it was Bakurai.  He raised a hand toward the man and drew back in confusion.  He was so tan.  Looking down at himself he realized that he too was in Egyptian garb.  His garment began at the waist and swept down to his feet.  It was white with a purple sash and gold trim.  Reaching up he found that he was wearing a headdress as well.  Somehow this didn’t seem as strange as it should have.  Already the memory of his other appearance was fading.  Of course he wore a headdress; he was priest of Egypt.  

       Horns sounded and he turned expectantly.

       Today was the day, and he was excited, though he did not show it.  After all, he was a high priest.  Emotion did not suit his station.

       The crowd became hushed and still as a figure emerged from behind a layered blue curtain.  He was a tall and imposing figure.

       “People of Egypt, the hour has come.” He paused for effect and observed the people.  They waited anxiously.  “Today our new Pharaoh takes the throne.”

       There were loud cheers, for Atemu was known to be fair and just, the prince had always been loved by the people.  Seth found he had difficulty restraining his own urge to smile, but he did manage it.  His mentor would have been proud, though Atemu would have shaken his head.  Seth often wondered why – it was not as though the prince – now Pharaoh – was prone to smiling himself.

       A second figure emerged from the curtains.  He was smaller, but somehow he had a presence that overshadowed the first man.  He was confident, serious, powerful, and yet, somehow charismatic.  Seth had always wondered how he managed to pull it off.  But then… the pharaoh was a god on earth.  Perhaps he, as a mere servant of the gods, would never understand.

       <Nor do I wish to> he thought <these are hard times for any man, but most especially for the ruler of the men>  he did not envy Atemu the task before him, though he knew he himself would play an important role in it.

       He turned his attention back to the ceremony.   It was a special ceremony indeed, for the magicians and priests had created a special headpiece for their pharaoh.  It was based on something he had seen a visiting ruler wear, but this was far more delicate and intricate than that coarse metal band.  This was a true work of art, befitting a god among men.  And it held a special power; he had overseen the ceremony himself, but he was not entirely certain what that power was.

       Atemu lowered his head so that the crown could be placed upon it.  When he rose the crowd cheered louder than Seth had ever before heard them.  He only hoped the young Pharaoh could maintain his popularity.

       The young Pharaoh raised a hand to his people, spoke a few words and then returned to his palace.  Seth knew he should return to his own duties, but his gaze was drawn back to the robed figure at the back of the garden.

       <Did I think I knew him?> he wondered.  But of course he couldn’t.  He had spent his entire life with priests and royalty.  None of these would need to hide their face with cloaks.  Yet he still watched the man, and as he did he thought he saw a gleam of something in the man’s eyes.  Something dangerous.

       Swiftly and with determination he approached the figure.  A group of peasants blocked his way, and, without a second thought, he pushed them roughly aside, but the man was already gone.

       <What did he want?>

***

       Yami was lost in memory, and part of him knew this.  Things were just too disjointed, they happened too quickly, and not always in the proper order.  The vision of the coronation was clear, but after that it had become a broken jumble of remembered bits of conversations.

       A man’s heavy hand rested on his small shoulder, his childlike mind could not grasp what the man meant, but he did remember what was said, “One day you will be Pharaoh, son.  It is a heavy burden, and a great responsibility.  You must expand our kingdom and rule our people with a firm hand…”

       He was even younger now, his mother singing to him softly, rocking him gently back and forth.

       He was in a garden now, a teen, his mother holding his gaze, her eyes snapping with conviction, “You have been born to privilege.  The gods chose you for this great station knowing that you alone could lead our people out of this vast darkness. You are special, but all life is special.  Never forget that all life is sacred, not just that of the Pharaoh.”  What she said, it wasn’t what he had been taught.  His father had shown him how to be hard, unfeeling.  He was the morning and evening star, a god among men… wasn’t he?  Then why did his heart cling to his mother’s words?

       The garden faded into a palace chamber.  A woman approached him, young and beautiful.  He loved her so much.  Taking her hands in his he pressed them to his lips struggling to calm his racing heart.

       He smiled faintly at a friend’s joke.

       He felt a pang as he watched a burial procession, knowing he would never see his mother again.

       His father’s voice, “You are the morning and evening star, all things are subject to your will.”

       His mother, “All life is sacred, not just the Pharaoh’s…”

       His tall, brunette friend, the priest, smiled cynically, “If we do not take what we want someone else will take it from us…”

       “All life is sacred…”

       At the burial procession, “Mother!”

       With the woman, “Come to me…”

       The images and phrases came faster and faster until they moved so quickly that he could no longer follow them.  He closed his eyes against them briefly, knowing it would do little good.  How could one escape what was in one’s own mind?

       When he opened them again it was as though he had entered the eye of a hurricane.  The images around him swirled in a blur of colors; the voices merged into a terrible roaring.  His fists clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm, eyes straight forward.

       And as suddenly as it had begun it all abruptly stopped.

       The noises faded to an unnatural silence; the images faded into an empty abyss.

       Then a soft glow lit the emptiness, white surrounded by darkness.

       <What is this?> he wondered.

       ~My Pharaoh~ a soft, feminine voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.  He realized it was in his mind.

       “Who is there?” he asked calmly.

       “Over here.” This was spoken aloud and he turned toward the sound.  Emerging from the shadows into the light was a woman, stately, and elegant.  Her long black tresses brushed the gold belt at her slender waist.  White cloth draped softly over her forming a sweeping long tunic. 

       “Who are you?” there was the faintest touch of awe in his voice, an almost reverence.

       She shook her head lightly, smiling, “That is unimportant.”  It struck him how soft and melodious her voice was.  She came close to him, extending a hand.  “Come, sit with me.”

       Placing his hand in hers he allowed her to lead him to a low couch that seemed to appear before them as they walked, appearing where emptiness had been moments before.  She pulled him down beside her and turned to face him.

       She smiled once more, softer, and more solemnly, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

       “Yours has been a long journey, and of late a dark one.  You have many questions.”

       Though it had not been a question he nodded, “Yes, I have.  I need to know-” he paused, struggling to put what he was feeling into words, “I need to know who I am.” His voice was low and filled with emotion.

       “Do you?” she asked curiously, “I wonder…”

       His brow furrowed in confusion.  Of course he did, why else would he be here?

       “Pharaoh,” she placed a hand on his cheek, drawing a sharp gasp from him that he quickly stifled.  “I do not question your need, but, rather, what you hope to find here.”

       “My past.”

       She tilted her head, studying him, “And that is important?” she searched his gaze intently, “What did you see?” she asked earnestly.

       His lids lowered in thought, “People… places… events.  It all happened so quickly.  I can’t remember it clearly.”

       “What do you remember clearly?” she prompted.

       He closed his eyes completely now, searching, “Feelings.” He finally answered, “I remember how I felt about each person, each event.”  He opened his eyes and she smiled, drawing her hand down onto her lap.

       “Yes.” She encouraged, “Tell me, were those feelings, those reactions, different from those you have now?”

       “No.” he was not sure where this was leading, but he knew it was true.  The joy at seeing a friend, the pain of loss, the respect for others and desire to protect, the sense of justice, it was all the same.

       Her hand on his arm drew him back, “That is all that matters.  You remember who you are, and that is enough.  Our past is a part of us, it shapes us, but it is not who we are. You do not need those memories to complete you, only the lessons you learned from them. For some memories are best forgotten.  Your life is rich now, be at peace.  The past no longer matters, it is the present… and the future, that matter.  And you are well equipped for that.” 

***

       “What is this place?” Yami Bakura had seen the coronation, watching from under his cloak in the far corner of the garden.  He had felt the burn of envy and desire.  He wanted the crown, but most of all he wanted that kind of power.  Then that cursed priest had come toward him and he had slipped away.  But when he had turned he had found himself, not in the desert as he had expected but, in utter blackness. 

       With clarity he realized the coronation had been a memory of his ancient past, back when he had had a mortal body the first time.  But now… where was he now?

       ~Does it matter~  the inquisitive voice was soft, lilting.

       “Who’s there?” he demanded, turning to find the speaker, only to realize the voice had sounded inside his own head.

       “It is alright.” The woman’s voice soothed, speaking aloud.  He turned toward the voice, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

       “What do you want of me?”

       She laughed lightly, her silky black tresses bouncing against her gold belt.  “Such suspicion.  See what a few memories have done to you?”  She approached and he pulled back slightly.  She extended a hand warmly, “Come, sit with me.”

       “I think not.” He said harshly.

       She did not take offense, but instead acquiesced.  “Very well, we shall stand.”  She laced her fingers, relaxing her shoulders and studying him.  “Why are you here Bakura?”

       “I want answers.  I want to know about my past.”

       She nodded in understanding, “Yes… why?”

       He blinked at her in confusion, “Why?” he rasped.

       “Yes, does that which you do remember seem so pleasant that you want to know more?”  she seemed truly curious.

       “No!” noticing how loud and emotional that sounded he made an effort to calm himself.  “That is not the issue.” He said, “It is a part of who I am, and I need to know.”

       She shook her head, “That is where you are wrong.  Bakura, what is your life now?”

       Yami Bakura frowned, “What do you mean?”

       “Do you enjoy your life?  Are you fulfilled, perhaps even happy?”

       Yami Bakura considered his life: his job, his home, his roommate and archeological partner… “I suppose…” he admitted grudgingly.

       She smiled, “Now, were you happy… before?”

       “No.” he answered curtly.

       “Yours was a life of shadows, of anger and hatred.  There was nothing redeemable there.” She told him, “Why would you want that back?”

       “Because they are mine.”

       She studied him for long moments and then seemed to reach a decision.  “I will return your memories to you, but there are conditions.”

       “Speak then.” He ordered harshly.

       “You must really want them.” She held up a hand, “And you must hear me out, and consider my warning.”  She waited for his nod before continuing.  “Bakura, your past is full of nothing but pain and bitterness.  Pain you felt, pain you caused others to feel.  You lost much, and took much, but gained very little.  Even after you were sealed in the puzzle you were consumed by hatred and greed.  But you have learned to overcome the effects of your past.  If those memories are returned the person you once were may well return as well.  There is no happiness to be found in the darkness of your past.  Is that what you want?”

       Bakura’s eyes fell to the floor, “no.” he said quietly

       “Do you want that pain and darkness back?” she asked gently, reaching a hand out to him.

       “No.” he whispered brokenly.  “Never.”

       “Then do not ask this of me.”

       “No.”

       She placed a hand under his chin, raising his face up, “I do not say this to sadden you, or to wound you.  You have changed so much.  The past is a tool, it helps us grow, teaches us lessons.  When we have learned all we can from it, it is best to let it recede.  There is nothing more to be learned from your past.  Let it go.  It is the future that matters now.”

       Yami Bakura blinked back tears, berating himself for his weakness.  She was right, he remembered enough to know that his past had been filled with pain.  He had allowed that pain to make him cruel and unfeeling.  He had been a lost soul.  But now… now, thanks to Bakura Ryou and his friends, he was walking in light for the first time.  He thought of Bakura’s forgiving nature, of his gentle spirit.  He knew he could never return to the man he had been ten years before.

       Yes, the future was definitely worth more than the past.

***

       Marik, Bakura, and Ishizu watched anxiously as the three men stood frozen.  In only a few seconds they stirred, blinking and looking around in confusion.

       “We have returned.” Yami observed.

       “Returned from where?” Bakura asked curiously.  Bakurai laid a hand on his shoulder.

       “I’ll tell you later.”  He and Yami exchanged a significant look.

       “What did you see?” Marik inquired.

       “We definitely know the crown was Yami’s.” Seto said, “But that’s about all I learned.”

       Yami and Bakurai exchanged glances again.  They had learned so much more…

       “Then he is the Pharaoh of light, and of shadows.” Bakura observed.

       “I am pleased you found at least one answer.” Ishizu focused her full attention on Yami.  He nodded gratefully.

       “As am I.” Bakura smiled at his yami, as he did so his eyes focused, for the first time, on the wall behind the man.  He stepped away from his friends, toward the wall. “Look at this…” he gasped.

       The others turned to see what had caught his attention.

       Where only moments before there had been smooth and barren walls there were now carvings and painting and hieroglyphs. 

       Bakura ran his finger over them, they were clearly ancient.

       “They must have appeared when we placed the crown in its place.” 

       Marik walked up behind him, “What is it?” he asked, tilting his head to read the symbols.

       Bakura scanned the walls rapidly, “it appears to be a brief history of the Pharaoh of light.” He said with excitement. “The key to your past may lie here Yami!  And you Bakurai!”

       Yami placed a hand on his shoulder.  “It is not important, Bakura.”  Bakura looked at him in confusion, and then understanding.  He nodded.

       “If you wish to decipher it, you have my blessing, but I have no desire to know what is written on those walls.”  Bakurai agreed.

       Kaiba was a little confused by this sudden change – had this not been the reason they had come?

       “We have found all the answers we need.” The ancient Pharaoh continued, “It is time to go home.”  He smiled at Bakurai, “We have been away from what truly matters far too long.”  The other yami nodded his agreement.

       Kaiba sighed, “Well, then I guess we’d better start cleaning up.”

       “We’ll take the crown with us and replace the debris.” Bakura said, “That way this place is less likely to be disturbed again.”

       “Thank you.” Yami said warmly.  Marik and Ishizu seemed pleased as well.

       “Just give me an hour or two down here, and then we’ll begin.  We should be out of here by tomorrow, providing Kaiba can get a Jet down here that fast.” Bakura arched a brow at Kaiba and he nodded.  Of course he could.

       “I’ll go see about it.” He said, turning to go.  As he headed up toward the surface his thoughts were in turmoil.

       He was happy for Yami and Bakurai; evidently, whatever had happened down there, had laid there doubts to rest.  He suspected there would be no more treasure hunting, or dark broodings for these two.  At the same time he was unhappy.  An end to their search meant that they would be returning to Domino.

       And he did not want to face the emotions he knew would stir again once there.       

~~~~~~~~~~~

       In case you missed it… they started out knowing who they were, but soon got lost in the memory and became what they were at that time.  So… Seto first thought their clothing was strange because he still knew he was Seto Kaiba CEO of Kaiba corp.  That is also why he recognized Bakura, but already his current memory was fading because he said he ‘thought’ he recognized the man (Bakura).  He was startled by his tan, but as soon as he saw it Seth’s personality took over and he could no longer remember why he should be startled.  By the time Atemu (who is Yami) comes out he is Seth and has no memory of being Seto Kaiba.  I know… it’s kind of confusing.  If you are wondering about the woman Yami loves (the one Yugi mentioned at Kaiba’s party, and the one Yami remembered here) that is covered in my next Yu-Gi-Oh! story.  It’s a bit AU because I haven’t read the memory arc of the manga, but it is accurate up through the information revealed in the show through the end of Battle City.  You’ll have to wait a while though; I promised I’d finish my next YYH story next.