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Recollection
Nov. 26th, 2010 02:49 amSomething was going on with Niisama. (Well, that was an understatement. Wasn't there always something going on?)
But he'd been acting just a little ... off, since waking up from that coma. At first, Mokuba had just chalked it up to, well, to the coma, and rebuilding his heart, and getting stuck in a card by a soul-stealing jackass, and all the stress Niisama had gone through when trying to make sure the fallout from Duelist Kingdom didn't wreck KaibaCorp, too.
But stress doesn't generally cause people to lapse into speaking long-dead languages. Or absently put on eyeliner in the morning, before freaking out and washing it off.
Mokuba, not being an idiot, had a pretty good idea what was going on, especially after seeing that tablet at the museum and meeting that weird Isis lady. Niisama being able to read the text on the Ra card only proved to him what Mokuba already knew.
...Not that Niisama was likely to admit it, anytime soon.
But Mokuba was a Kaiba, and while whatever was going on with Niisama could be explained by reincarnation, given all the weird shit the Items had caused, and the fact that at least one of the Items clearly had reacted to Niisama, he was ... keeping possibilities open.
Until the morning he walked into the kitchen to find Niisama sitting at the table (surprisingly), staring blankly into a bowl of oatmeal (which he hated), and and muttering what sounded like a half-remembered prayer to himself in a language with some damn weird consonant clusters.
"Niisama?" Mokuba asked timidly, hanging onto the doorframe.
Niisama turned to look at him, eyes blank and unrecognizing, and Mokuba shivered. "You look like Nefernebet," he breathed, looking ever-so-faintly bewildered.
"Who?" Mokuba asked, really truly trying not to freak out.
"Nefernebet. My willful daughter. Are you a relative?" Niisama asked, and the question seemed to flip a switch inside of him, because the next thing Mokuba knew those blue eyes sharpened into a familiar piercing stare.
"Mokuba? What's wrong?" And that was his Niisama, back from wherever his mind had taken him.
Mokuba did something he'd sworn never to ever do again. He burst into tears.
Niisama was at his side in an instant, wrapping long arms tightly around Mokuba's shoulders. "What happened?" he asked softly after Mokuba managed to calm down some.
"You don't remember?" Mokuba asked, almost more worried about this than the incident itself. Was his Niisama possessed by some wayward spirit, too?
Niisama was frowning. "Remember what?"
"I came down to find you and you were doing that thing again, you know? Where you're not speaking Japanese anymore? And then you looked at me and didn't recognize me," and damn it all to hell, he was tearing up again, "and asked if I knew someone named Nefernebet. Your-"
"-Willful daughter," Niisama breathed, and his eyes were distant again, but the normal distance of someone recollecting something, not the eerie distance from the kitchen. "Damn it all. Mutou was right. Damn it, and damn him while we're at it."
Mokuba smiled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. That was his Niisama, all right.
Niisama's hands were still gripping his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Mokuba," he said, staring intently into Mokuba's eyes, and that was so typical of Niisama, apologizing for things that weren't his fault.
"It's ok, Niisama. Really. It was a little freaky, but it's ok now."
Niisama stared at him as if looking for something, then nodded slowly and released him. "Come on, then. You're late for school."
But he'd been acting just a little ... off, since waking up from that coma. At first, Mokuba had just chalked it up to, well, to the coma, and rebuilding his heart, and getting stuck in a card by a soul-stealing jackass, and all the stress Niisama had gone through when trying to make sure the fallout from Duelist Kingdom didn't wreck KaibaCorp, too.
But stress doesn't generally cause people to lapse into speaking long-dead languages. Or absently put on eyeliner in the morning, before freaking out and washing it off.
Mokuba, not being an idiot, had a pretty good idea what was going on, especially after seeing that tablet at the museum and meeting that weird Isis lady. Niisama being able to read the text on the Ra card only proved to him what Mokuba already knew.
...Not that Niisama was likely to admit it, anytime soon.
But Mokuba was a Kaiba, and while whatever was going on with Niisama could be explained by reincarnation, given all the weird shit the Items had caused, and the fact that at least one of the Items clearly had reacted to Niisama, he was ... keeping possibilities open.
Until the morning he walked into the kitchen to find Niisama sitting at the table (surprisingly), staring blankly into a bowl of oatmeal (which he hated), and and muttering what sounded like a half-remembered prayer to himself in a language with some damn weird consonant clusters.
"Niisama?" Mokuba asked timidly, hanging onto the doorframe.
Niisama turned to look at him, eyes blank and unrecognizing, and Mokuba shivered. "You look like Nefernebet," he breathed, looking ever-so-faintly bewildered.
"Who?" Mokuba asked, really truly trying not to freak out.
"Nefernebet. My willful daughter. Are you a relative?" Niisama asked, and the question seemed to flip a switch inside of him, because the next thing Mokuba knew those blue eyes sharpened into a familiar piercing stare.
"Mokuba? What's wrong?" And that was his Niisama, back from wherever his mind had taken him.
Mokuba did something he'd sworn never to ever do again. He burst into tears.
Niisama was at his side in an instant, wrapping long arms tightly around Mokuba's shoulders. "What happened?" he asked softly after Mokuba managed to calm down some.
"You don't remember?" Mokuba asked, almost more worried about this than the incident itself. Was his Niisama possessed by some wayward spirit, too?
Niisama was frowning. "Remember what?"
"I came down to find you and you were doing that thing again, you know? Where you're not speaking Japanese anymore? And then you looked at me and didn't recognize me," and damn it all to hell, he was tearing up again, "and asked if I knew someone named Nefernebet. Your-"
"-Willful daughter," Niisama breathed, and his eyes were distant again, but the normal distance of someone recollecting something, not the eerie distance from the kitchen. "Damn it all. Mutou was right. Damn it, and damn him while we're at it."
Mokuba smiled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. That was his Niisama, all right.
Niisama's hands were still gripping his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Mokuba," he said, staring intently into Mokuba's eyes, and that was so typical of Niisama, apologizing for things that weren't his fault.
"It's ok, Niisama. Really. It was a little freaky, but it's ok now."
Niisama stared at him as if looking for something, then nodded slowly and released him. "Come on, then. You're late for school."
