Hey guys! XD Miss me? I KNOOOOW I have to work on LCDLM (which is w/ my betas right now) and DC (which is totally and terribly stuck -sob-) but this plot bunny was biting at me so I just HAD to write it. I haven't been in the mood to write lately, so I consider this a great victory for me. :-D This is for you, Dragon, since you liked it so much! XD And a thanks to both Pysche and Dragon for helping me brainstorm ideas. NOTE: I'm sorry I didn't get to use my betas this time, mainly cuz I don't know where they are (yes, I lost them ) and I was totally sick of rewriting this chapter. :-/ I don't think I could stand another rewrite, which is why I opted to just go and post this bloody thing. Maybe next time, guys! I luv ya, anyways!

Oh, and in case you're interested in the anime, I wouldn't suggest looking it up unless you can get the episodes. The story doesn't make a lot of sense unless you watch it (and even so, it STILL doesn't make a lot of sense). AND I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE PLOT HOLES! X( They're everywhere, and I can't fix them! Noir itself has PLENTY of plot holes, so stick with me! Besides that…



Title: The Chosen

Author: Lomelindi

Rating: R for lots of killing and cursing (NC-17 POSSIBLY on yahoo groups)

Pairing: Seto/Yami

Spoilers: most of the anime NOIR ;;

Warnings: If you do not like yaoi, DO NOT READ. If you don't like Seto/Yami, DO NOT READ. If you don't like blood and gore, PLEASE read! NOIR, despite all the killing, has next to no blood, and I want to keep it that way.

Disclaimer: NOIR and Yu-Gi-Oh! do not belong to me

Summary: Lost, lonely and without any memories, a boy finds shelter in the arms an unlikely ally. Together, they find themselves entangled in a battle against blood, fate and tears. SETO/YAMI (inspired by Noir)

Status: Incomplete

Detication: This is to the lovely Dragon, who is obsessed with adventure and was also the one that got me so worked up about this fic in the first place. XD Here ya go! Hopefully this won't disappoint you... -sweatdrop- Don't kill me! (And another thanks to Pysche,


Though the general, long-term plot of this story is based heavily on that of Noir, almost all the details, dialogue, fights, scenes and wutever fancy moments are totally made up on my part. I'm using both my imagination and my poor memory, so bear with me and hopefully enjoy.

"Noir is the famed shadow of death. Two maidens of retribution, sinners in paradise, guard us in our peaceful slumber." Noir (opening act)


Most people find it annoying to hear honking and chatting all day long. Seto, on the other hand, didn't mind at all. He always left the window of his apartment wide open to allow in all the smells and noises of Domino. It wasn't that he particularly LIKED the smell of car exhaust, mind you, nor did he like that crabby old lady across the street... but strangely enough, the city calmed him.

After all, assassins were wary of silence. Silence meant danger, as did being alone. And no matter how skilled they were, most assassins -Seto included- did not like having to creep around and look over their shoulder all day. That was perhaps the most frightening trait of assassins. They were not psychotic, mentally ill or blood thirsty. They could pass as perfectly normal people and do a bloody good job of it, too. Unlike serial killers and secret agents, assassins led relatively quiet lives. They were freelance in their way of living, using their deadly skills only when called upon by some rich guy with a big problem. Most of the time, they were just the girl next door, the boy down the street, the nice man with the cute dog. Heck, you could be dating an assassin and you wouldn't know.

Seto took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with a content sigh. It was a dreadfully hot summer day, but he didn't mind. He had stripped down to his boxers and a muscle shirt, both of which clung most uncomfortably to his sweaty skin. Above him, the ceiling fan twirled happily away, bringing cool relief from the blistering hot weather.

His laptop, previously on screen saver, suddenly beeped to life.

"You have one new message," it intoned in its flat, computerized voice.

Seto raised his head from the back of his chair, wiping away some long chocolate bangs from his brow. His eyes narrowed into slits, flashing the color of icy sapphires. He hadn't been expecting a new assignment quite so soon.

A picture popped up on the screen. On it was a boy, maybe 15 or 16 years of age. He was startlingly attractive and striking in appearance, with wild, tri-colored hair, ruby eyes, and wonderfully tanned skin. But for some odd reason, he looked bored out of his mind in the snapshot, his bright-colored eyes dull and emotionless as they gazed solemnly at Seto from the computer screen.

That gaze... That strange, emotionless gaze... Something about it irked Seto. Something about it wasn't... natural.

The assassin frowned. What the fuck was this? Some hacker's sick joke? No one but his employers knew his email, and even so, they knew not to give it away without a price. After all, assassins could only be found when they wanted to be found. Unless you were filthy rich and desperate to see someone disappear off the face of the earth, you wouldn't have known a man named Seto Kaiba even existed.

Finally, a few seconds later, a message popped up below the picture.

'Come make a pilgrimage for the past with me.'


Seto looked around warily. The email message had led him here, to some abandoned construction site at the edge of the city, far from any public locations. That alone made him instantly wary. In fact, he wasn't even sure if this place was abandoned, which made him even more suspicious. He didn't want to shoot some innocent construction workers just because he happened to run into them, but he will if he had to. After all, to Seto, privacy was a bit of a touchy issue... which brought him back to his current predicament. He didn't like that some random kid knew his email. Nope, he didn't like that at all.

Tightening his grip on the silver briefcase hanging from his side, the brunette pursed his lips, his eyes no more than steely blue slits under his bangs. He wasn't even sure why he bothered to come here... He could have easily ignored the email and went on with his life, even though it wasn't much of a life in the first place.

Still, there was something about this boy...

Seto shook his head, giving himself a mental slap. This was no time for doubts. He was alone, irritated and in a weird, creepy place. Even to his most primal instincts, this did not bode well.

He took a moment to collect himself, taking in his surroundings and imprinting everything to memory. An unfinished building complex loomed above and around him, made almost entirely of bars, beams and chunks of steel. The compound was dark and unlit, the semi-finished roof and multiple stories robbing its insides of virtually all light. Everywhere Seto looked, there were boxes, rubble and lumber, and no doubt more awaited him inside.

A lesser man may have quaked in his shoes to find himself alone and with no easy way out.

But then again, Seto was no lesser man.

Undeterred, he strode forward into the building and gingerly began to pick his way through the darkness, as silent and graceful as a cat. Here and there he tip-toed through a maze of scattered boxes, then walked the plank across a dusty old piece of lumber. Never once did he slip or utter a word.


It didn't take Seto very long to reach the heart of the unfinished complex. He stopped at the edge of a large, empty plaza. Probably built to be some skylight, it was really nothing but a huge tube of emptiness in the middle of the building, shooting upwards until it reached the sky outside. Through its top, Seto could see that the sun was beginning to set, its fiery descent burning the sky a warm, golden-rose hue. Already, the chill of night lingered in the air. A burst of cool wind blew down from the skylight, whipping Seto's dark trenchcoat around his legs and slapping his bangs against his eyes.

Frowning in annoyance, the assassin absentmindedly brushed his hair aside as his sharp eyes searched for any signs of movement. He knew someone was here. He could feel it deep in his bones.

Indeed, not moments later, there was a soft sound across the plaza. A footstep. Seto's attention snapped toward it.

A small, slender boy emerged from the shadows, his movements fluid but slow. He was, as Seto expected, the strange-looking boy from the email, colorful hair and all. He was dressed in the blue pants and jacket of Domino High, with only a tight black leather shirt underneath and two punk belts around his slim waist. A black choker and a golden locket adorned the boy's slender neck, the latter flashing brilliantly in the sunlight as it hung loosely against its owner's chest.

Seto's eyes narrowed as he stepped out to make himself known. The boy caught sight of him immediately. For a second, neither of them spoke a word as they studied each other carefully. Scarlet met sapphire as their gazes locked and held.

Seto chose to break the silence. "Hn... I'm here," he said simply, letting his words hang between them.

The boy stared at him with that strange gaze of his, saying nothing.

Seto's irritation rose a notch. "Who are you and what do you want?" he demanded with a snarl. It was always better to get straight to the point... He never was one for small talk.

The boy bolted.

Seto was almost caught off guard. Almost. A vivid curse flashing across his mind, the assassin dropped his briefcase and snapped it open, pulling out his silencer. Bounding in leaps to make up for lost distance, he took off after the boy, his long strides carrying him swiftly across the emptiness of the plaza.

Normally, Seto would be a bit more careful running in open space, but right now he was beyond caring. He wanted to know who this boy was, and he wanted to know now. He was in no mood for silly games.

The chase was amazingly silent. Despite both boys running at top speed, their steps were refrained, nimble and quiet, barely making a noise as they bounded through the dark building.

Seto made a quiet grunt as he hurled himself over a large beam, using one arm to flip his body in the air. He landed silently and effortlessly, crouched like a cat, his slim legs easily absorbing the shock of his landing. In a blink of an eye, he was up and running again, leaping over boxes and other pieces of rubble.

Now, the assassin believed himself to be an excellent runner, but he had to give the other boy some credit... For his size, the shrimp was either surprisingly in shape or miraculously lucky to be able to dodge a top-class assassin like this and not be shot within the first two minutes.

Seto managed to keep the boy in his line of sight, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he expected. Clearly, the boy had some type of training. Most people were noisy runners (therefore easy targets) and weren't nearly as fast.

Damnit, now he got himself distracted. The boy had vanished. Gun cocked at his side, the assassin slowed and spun around in place, his eyes darting about in their attempt to find his prey. He had somehow lost track of the boy, and it didn't make him happy. How in God's name did some punk kid manage to outrun him?

Instantly, Seto got his answer. The boy actually wasn't faster than he was... He just found another path. Seto's sharp eyes caught sight of the boy's shoe as it disappeared up a makeshift stairway to the right.

Cursing his own stupidity, the assassin bolted after the boy, his long legs enabling him to jump every other step as he bounded up the stairs in hot pursuit. NOW the chase was becoming noisy. Despite their best efforts, both of their movements shook and rattled the flimsy metal stairs, shaking years worth of dust all over the place.

Dust was getting into Seto's eyes, but he merely ignored the irritation. This punk was not getting away... He was either going to get shot or he was going to give Seto the answers he wanted. As of right now, the assassin was sourly tempted to do the former.

For a few desperate moments, the two climbed steadily upward, the boy frantically running up the steps, the assassin leaping upward in great bounds. Finally, the smaller of the pair abandoned the stairs altogether, jumping off on to one of the top stories. Seto followed him shortly after, growling to himself and afraid that he had lost the boy once again.

To his surprise, the boy hadn't gone anywhere. He was sitting at the end of a long beam jutting out from the edge of the unfinished building, beyond where the concrete floor ended abruptly and fell two hundred or so feet to the pavement below. A nice strong wind was blowing up now, and against a brilliantly burning sunset, Seto could see the silhouette of the boy's wild hair billowing and whipping about. Surprisingly, the boy didn't seem at all distressed about his dangerous predicament... In fact, he was calmly swinging his legs and fingering his gold locket, his gaze fixed on some point in the cascade of colors blazing across the sky.

Frowning in mild confusion, Seto aimed his gun at the boy's back, his entire body tense as he strode forward with silent, deliberate strides. "Look, I'm not going to chase you anymore," he remarked finally, his voice slow and even, "I just need to know what you want with me."

If the boy was surprised by Seto's presence, he didn't show it. He didn't even blink an eye. "You're Setep." he whispered. His voice was silky and elegant, with a hint of an exotic accent.

Seto blinked. "What?"

"You're Setep, right?" the boy repeated quietly. He turned his head over his shoulder and smiled a little, though it was hard to see anything in the bright light. "I've been waiting for you."

Seto's eyes flashed with hard, icy steel. Cautiously, he approached closer, his fingers clenched around the trigger of his gun. "Only eight people in the world know me by that name," he managed through gritted teeth, "and you're not supposed to be one of them."

The boy regarded him quietly for a moment.

"Give me your name at least," Seto demanded. "What's your name?"

There was a sparkle of light against the dark silhouette of boy's face, and it took Seto a moment to realize it was a tear.

"...I don't remember..." the boy whispered, his voice barely audible.

The assassin absorbed this silently. If he hadn't been confused before, he sure was now.

Just then, the boy climbed slowly to his feet.

Seto tensed visibly. "Look, that's dangerous..." he growled, watching the strong wind continuously try to rip the slender boy from the beam, "Why don't you come back and-"

A shot rang out.

The boy jumped from the beam.

Seto cursed colorfully. He threw himself against one of the closest upright beams, his gun by his side, his throat constricting painfully. Alarm bells were going off in his head. Who was shooting? How many shooters were there? And what happened to the boy?


The next few minutes went as a blur. Seto was on automatic pilot. He was shooting at every movement and every sound, not even waiting until he heard a body fall before he was off running and shooting again. The gunfight had escalated from that single shot to multiple guns going off in all different directions, some too close for comfort. Seto was annoyed about every aspect of the situation. For one, there were people shooting at him from outside, probably positioned on other parts of the complex. Using his beam as protection, the assassin shot back at them, catching a few shooters but unable to see the others in the shadow of the building. There were other shooters all around him, some in the stories above him, some in the stories below him. He could hear their noisy movements and hushed voices echoing throughout the building.

One might think that Seto was panicked. No, he was far from it. He was as calm and cool as ever, hardly even blinking as he took down man after man. Sure, he may be outnumbered, but he had numerous advantages. For one, he was fast, young, and probably a lot more skilled than most of these shooters. Two, he had a silencer, a slender, high-tech gun with a fit-on muzzle that made its flash and sound hardly noticeable. Therefore, though he was taking down quite a few men at a time, the enemy was obviously having trouble locating his exactly position.

Which brought him back to yet another question. Who WERE these people? Seto had noticed that they were all middle-aged, official-looking men in dark suits. The government?

But on the other hand, a part of his mind quipped, who cares who they are? Seto ducked behind a complex of boxes, shooting two distant men to the left and one hidden behind a pillar to his right. The only thing that mattered right now was that people was trying to kill him and that he needed to shoot their sorry asses. Preferably before they shot him.

Just as that thought flitted through Seto's head, the sounds of more distant gun fight reached his ears. Apparently there was more shooting going on somewhere else in the building, but it certainly wasn't centered around him.

The boy.

It had to be the boy.

A million thoughts shot through Seto's bewildered mind. Who were these people after, him or the boy? How on earth did the boy survive that jump? And how the bloody hell did he get a gun, or even know how to shoot one?

The assassin decided to satisfy his curiosity and bolted for the stairs, all but flying down the steps, his trench coat flapping behind him. The stairs shook and groaned under his weight, immediately alerting the men above of Seto's presence. The assassin cursed to himself when he heard them running toward him, shooting wildly in the dark.

Jumping off the steps on to the ground floor and bolting over boxes and beams, Seto was relieved to find that he had put some distance between himself and his pursuers, but his relief was cut short when he came upon a gruesome scene.

"My god..." Cocking his gun to the ground, he skidded to a stop besides two collapsed beams on the very edge of the open plaza. Around his feet and leading into the plaza were the bodies of nearly a dozen and a half dead men, all dressed in black. Dropped exactly where they were shot, they had been taken out neatly and mechanically, each with a perfect red wound either over their hearts or through their forehead.

Seto felt his mouth go dry. This was unbelivable. How could that little squirt -if it was him at all- manage to do all this? No assassin would ever allow the enemy get this close without shooting them down first... but then again, whoever shot these men had aim that most assassins would willingly die for.


Seto went down hard, tackled from behind by three burly men. He was taller than them all, but not nearly as brawny. Crap, the assassin thought numbly as a fourth man joined the first three in holding him down. Seto struggled wildly against their grip, trying to perform any martial arts trick that came to mind, but the combined weight of the four men was enough to flatten him motionless. Another man stepped out from the shadows and stepped on his hand, forcing the assassin's fingers to relinquish his gun. Something sharp on the ground sliced through Seto's palm, but the pain only made the assassin struggle harder. No way he was going down like this!

A few more men came up, panting from their chase.

"DAMN, he's some shot, this kid!" one of them commented with both horror and fascination in his voice.

"That son of a bitch!"

But I didn't do it, Seto thought, mildly bewildered.

Something moved at the edge of his vision. He glanced up. From his vantage point on the floor, he could see every beam and bar that made up the ceiling. Even so, he was unprepared for what he saw.

The wild-haired boy was hanging upside down from his knees like a kid on monkey bars, his jacket hanging well below his head. But despite his awkward position, there was neither fear nor pain in the boy's eyes. Without a word, he raised a gun and shot every one of the men.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

All five men collapsed like duffel bags. The boy didn't even flinch.

Seto, on the other hand, was up in an instant, cradling his bleeding hand and picking up his gun with the other. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he carefully aimed the gun's muzzle at the boy temple, expecting some long-delayed fight to break out instantly. However, it never came.

The boy quietly dropped to the ground and righted himself, half-heartedly brushing his jacket off. When he finally looked up, there were glimmers of unshed tears in his eyes. And Ra... what eyes they were...

Good Lord, Seto thought, he had never seen a gaze so sad. Shaking himself out of it, he chose to keep his own eyes cold and neutral. He was sick of this, sick of looking at this weird kid and feeling sorry for him for reasons unknown. "NOW will you tell me who you are?" the assassin hissed, pointing his gun straight at the boy's head. Hey, just because the kid saved his life doesn't mean Seto necessarily had to trust him. In fact, Seto didn't trust anyone, and he'd very much like to keep it that way.

The boy raised his arm and calmly shot someone over Seto's shoulder. There was the familiar sound of a body dropping to the floor.

Already getting used to the boy's strange tactics, Seto didn't even bother to move his gun. "I would like answers, kid," he snarled. "I'm not going anywhere until I get them, and I'll shoot you if I have to."

The boy didn't answer for a long, long time, a lone tear trailing down his honeyed cheek. "Why...?" he whispered finally, looking at Seto with pained scarlet eyes. "You saw me... Why can I kill all these people... and not feel bad doing it?"

Seto hesitated.

The boy suddenly threw himself into a bunch of rubble on their left. Without a thought, Seto reflexively followed him. The ear-splitting rat-tat-tat of a machine gun tore through the air, bullets slicing through the air where they were just seconds ago, some shots bouncing off beams and igniting on contact. Seto found himself in a now-familiar situation, flatted against a thick beam of steel with bullets flying past him on either side. On the bright side, there didn't seem to be any more men besides the ones shooting at them from across the plaza, but the assassin knew better than to get his hopes up.

He spotted the crimson-eyed boy not far away, crouched against his own protective barrier of some twisted piece of thick lumber. He looked as emotionless as ever, but there was a miserable droop in his shoulders. Seto watched him carefully, almost in disbelief. If he hadn't just seen it with his own eyes, there was no way in the seven heavens he would have ever believed such a little person to be capable of such horrific acts.

As if sensing the assassin's attention, the boy looked up with wide, questioning eyes.

Seto glared at him and then turned and shot at someone across the plaza, ducking quickly back against his beam. "Who are they after, you or me?" he managed breathlessly.

"Me," the boy said quietly, and left it there.


"After him!"

The bamboo forest was dark and misty, but its serene silence was suddenly broken by the footsteps and cries of men. The boy tore through the bamboo at a neck-breaking speed, panting as he scrambled up a hill. There were people all around him, crunching the grass, aiming flashlights, yelling at each other.

The boy continued to run, shooting occasionally and ducking bullets as he went. He didn't know where he was going or how he was going to get there, but he knew his supply of ammunition couldn't last forever. And sooner or later, he was going to get shot.

Beyond the constant buzz of adrenaline, the boy felt, for a moment, a wave of sadness. Dejection. Loneliness.

What had he done to make people hate him like this?


Seto decided to drop the issue. There were far more important things than someone's name and history... Namely getting out of here alive.

"My car's out back," the assassin managed through gritted teeth, then paused as they both leaned out to shoot at a few men. "We can make it if we run."

The boy looked at him with wide-eyed stare again, this time with a sparkle of surprise and hope in his gaze. "What? We? But-"

"No buts," Seto snarled, his tone ice-cold. "If you want to get out of here alive, you better come with me."


Seto didn't love anyone, and he very rarely loved anything. He didn't care much for material objects. After all, he just lost another one of his briefcases again, for the third time this month. Thankfully, there wasn't anything special in the case save some extra ammunition and an old gun he rarely used. He hadn't exactly prepared for a full-out war, after all.

But in any case, if there WAS one object Seto highly valued, it would have to be his car. It was amazing how many times that little black Jaguar saved his ass. One tended to get attached to things that saved one's life, after all.

Emerging from the darkness of the unfinished building, the two boys saw the car and felt a wave of relief -or at least Seto did, though he would never admit it. He did, however, take a moment to enjoy the fresh air and the silence of late sunset, but almost instantly turned and fixed the muzzle of his gun to his companion's temple.

The boy froze and stiffened.

"Give me your gun."

The boy quietly did so. Despite the pain in his injured hand, Seto took it with his bleeding fingers and jerked the barrel of his own gun toward his car. "Move it."

After a split second of indecision, the boy took a slow step, then another, then another. He moved warily but fluidly, never once looking back at Seto or at the gun pointed at his head.

Seto followed grimly, keeping his gaze even. The boy had guts, he had to admit. He couldn't sense a hint of fear or anger in him, though he could see a spark of defiance in those beautiful red eyes. Good. Seto liked defiance. It was a trait he himself possessed and was darn proud of.

"Get in the car."

The boy stopped by the side of car and didn't move any further.

"You heard me. Get in the car."

"Where are we going?" the boy asked quietly.

"To your house."

"How do you know I have a house?"

"Gut instinct. Now get in."

The boy turned his head and gave Seto a long, sour look. "Why should I?"

Seto gave a roguish grin. "We need to talk."


Seto hadn't expected himself to be right, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that the boy DID have a house. It was a small, old cottage on the edge of the city, not far from the construction site. Seto had been in this part of the city numerous times before, and from what he remembered, it wasn't exactly a safe neighborhood. In fact, the place was often a hideout for gangs, escaped convicts and exiles on the run. If he hadn't seen the boy's skill with a gun, Seto might have wondered how on earth a pretty little thing like him could live here and not be raped, kidnapped or brutally murdered within a day.

Opening the faded white door, the boy led him inside without a word or a protest. Seto, too, kept quiet as he stepped inside.

"Would you like some tea?" the boy asked suddenly when they were both in.

Seto raised an eyebrow as the smaller man brushed past him to close the door. "Sure."

The boy nodded and slipped off his shoes for a pair of slippers, then padded off to where Seto assumed the kitchen to be. Frowning, the assassin stepped in and looked around warily. He found himself in a surprisingly cozy home made up of a main living room and a small hallway leading to the kitchen, the bathroom and a single bedroom. The only furniture in sight was a sofa, a small TV, a small potted plant, some various pictures hanging on the wall, and an old traditional Japanese table surrounded by three pillows.

Taking a hint, Seto kneeled down on one of the pillows, setting both guns on the side of the table and taking off his shoes for respect's sake. It had been a while since he had any sort of tea ceremony, and he had to admit that he desperately needed one. It's the little things that make life interesting, they say.

The boy returned shortly with a tray bearing two steaming cups of tea and a small first-aid kit.

Seto raised a questioning eyebrow.

The boy ignored him and set the plate in the middle of the table, daintily placing one cup of tea in front of Seto and another in front of himself. Then settling down on a pillow beside the assassin, the boy opened the first aid kit, pulled out some gauze and reached over to grab Seto's injured hand.

The assassin hissed in pain and pulled away instantly, but the boy was surprisingly agile and managed to snag two of Seto's fingers. Sending a scolding glare at the taller man, the boy pulled Seto's hand back toward him, tearing a bit of gauze as he did so.

Reprimanded, Seto decided to drink his tea. He slowly brought the teacup to his lips and sipped carefully, senses alert for any type of poison or drug. He was pleased to find that not only was the tea drug-free, it was also of excellent quality. Happily drinking away, Seto made a mental note to invite the boy over for tea sometime, even if that was one of the strangest ideas he had ever had.

Meanwhile, ignoring his own tea, the boy continued to work quietly and diligently on Seto's hand, cleaning the wound with some herbs and alcohol -Seto wasn't too happy about this part- and wrapping it up with the skill of a true nurse. "There," he murmured softly as he released Seto's hand.

Seto set the teacup down and raised his hand to eyelevel, inspecting it carefully. "You're good," he managed gruffly. It was the closest thing he could manage to a thank you.

The boy nodded, then silently raised his own teacup to his lips and began to sip.

By now, Seto was ready for some answers. "You could tell me your name..." he offered pointedly between sips.

The youth stopped drinking and looked at him silently, then reached in his pant pocket with one hand and fetched out a small, white card. He slid it over the table to Seto.

Seto picked it up and eyed it with curiosity. It was a Domino High Student ID, complete with the blue emblem and everything. "Yami Motou?"

Yami nodded again, looking away shyly.

Seto's eyes narrowed. "That's not your name, is it?" he remarked, sliding the card back over.

Yami looked back at him with tired, bleary eyes. He glanced down at the card and shivered. "I don't know..." he whispered finally, voice tiny.

Seto frowned. "When's your birthday?"

"I don't know."

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"What's your age?"

"I don't know."

"Where's your family?"

Yami hesitated, misery and grief in his eyes. "I don't know."

Seto furrowed his eyebrows. Well, this was going well, he told himself dryly. "What the hell DO you know then?"

Yami shrank back from Seto's annoyed tone and looked down at his tea, hurt.

Seto felt a brief pang of guilt, but fought it back. He came here for a reason and he wasn't going to take this bullshit, especially not from this punk kid. "Is that your family?" he demanded, pointing up to a picture hanging from the wall.

It was an old, faded picture, showing Yami with two others; a younger boy with the same type of hair and big violet eyes, and an older man dressed in a baseball cap and big blue overalls. The boy and the man were both hugging Yami from behind, the three of them laughing at something the camera could not comprehend.

Yami stayed silent, not even glancing up.

"What's their names, or do you not know that either?"

Yami swallowed, his eyes slipping shut as if going into a trance. "Yugi Motou and Sugoroku Motou," he murmured softly.

"What are they to you?"

"Brother and grandfather."



"They're your family."


"Do you know them?"


"Do you remember them?"


Seto sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, let me ask you one more time. What can you tell me?"

At this, a visible tremor ran through Yami's slender body. He looked up at Seto, his gaze unreadable. "You're willing to listen?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Listen? Yes. Believe? We'll have to leave that for later."


The boy awoke slowly, his head pounding, his eyes burning and heavy with sleep. Feeling overheated, he shoved off his covers and sat up, fighting to move his sluggish limbs. "Mmph…" he groaned, holding his throbbing head with his shaking hands. He rubbed his face furiously.


His bleary eyes could make out a small, white room, with a white bed, white covers, and white furniture. A ceiling fan twirled away above him, and a mirror sat cheerfully on top of an old dresser against the wall. The boy looked around nervously, hugging himself. He was dressed in some white PJ's he could not remember owning, and it was too hot under the covers and too cold outside them.


The youth stood, shivering, and made his way across the room to the dresser. Everything felt so cold, so unnatural... It was then that he noticed a blue uniform hanging from a clothes hanger on the doorknob. Giving it a long, wary glance, he turned back to the dresser and began opening the drawers, looking for... for something... for some hint... Why couldn't he remember anything?


The third drawer revealed much more than he expected. In it was a gun, a few cartridges of ammunition, a gold trinket of some sort, a small white ID card, and a small slip of paper. On the paper, scrawled in neat script, was the name Setep and an email address.



"So you contacted to me because you thought that I could solve all your problems?"

Yami flinched but nodded affirmatively.

Eyes troubled and deep in thought, Seto sighed and leaned back on the heels of his feet. Frankly, he was more worried that more people knew him than he would like than he was about the circumstances of Yami's awakening, but then again, he had a feeling there was much more to this than either of them knew. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Yami's golden locket. "What is that, exactly?"

Yami looked down at the trinket, confused. Without a word, he took it off his neck and handed it to Seto, who took it from him with the care of a forensic scientist. The assassin's cool blue eyes scanned over the object carefully as he turned it over and over again in his hand.

It looked like a gold puzzle piece, but a strangely shaped one. There was an etching on the front... An etching of some sort of... eye...


"Mom? Dad?" Seto peeked into the doorway, curiously. "I heard some weird noises... Are you guys...?" His heart stopped.

Red. That was all he could see. Red everywhere. Across the floor, over the table, on the flowers, on the chairs... His father was sprawled out on his mother, who was sprawled on his brother, who was limp on the ground... None of them moved. Red covered Mokuba, too, and from his body, the color spread out on the floor in a weird shape... Almost like an eye...

Seto screamed.



The simple word was enough to bring Seto snapping back into reality. He was shaking and tense all over, and he had a sudden urge to vomit. He bit his lip so hard he could feel blood dripping on to his tongue.

Yami watched him worriedly from across the table, confusion flashing in his otherwise emotionless eyes. "Can I have my charm back?" His voice was even and slow, as if talking to a child.

Seto swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, looking down at the gold trinket in his hand. His fingers were clenched painfully around it, almost as if he had been trying to strangle it to death. My god, he thought to himself, that eye...! Was it possible? Had the murderer of his family drawn the same symbol on the floor with Mokuba's blood?

The thought made him shudder.

"Setep? Setep!"

Seto looked up, his entire body taunt, his eyes hard as steel. "My name is Seto Kaiba," he grounded out through clenched teeth, his hand wrapping even tighter around Yami's charm, "I'm a world-class assassin by the code name of Setep. I don't know you, how you got my name, or what the hell I'm doing here WITH you, but I know that I can't help you. My job is to take life away, not to restore them, and this amnesia business is just a waste of my precious time."

His words rang icily in the air.

Yami blinked at this sudden wave of information, then looked as if he had been slapped hard across the cheek. He lowered his gaze mournfully, unable to say a word.

Seto heaved a sigh and felt his head throb even more. Damn, he didn't mean to say all that... He had NEVER, until this point, given away any important information about himself, but... but that goddamn EYE!

Against his better judgment, he silently and slowly slid the trinket back across the table. After tormenting the kid like this, he might as well do ONE nice deed... After all, the symbol of the eye had been burned into his memory the moment he saw his dead brother all those years ago. He didn't need a lucky charm to remind him ofit.

Without a word, Seto picked up his gun and stood, turning to go.


Seto froze in his tracks.

"I have no one else to turn to."

Seto turned to look at Yami. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes, all his previous dignity and silence gone. For a moment, he looked so desperate... so alone... so helpless...

"Then come stay with me."

CRAP! Seto slapped himself inside. That was the LAST thing he was planning on saying.

Clearly Yami wasn't expecting it either, if the incredulous stare he gave the assassin was any hint. The boy's gaze shifted awkwardly, his previously stolid eyes filled with confusion. "...Pardon?"

"Come stay with me." Seto honestly didn't know what possessed him to say that. Maybe it was that he felt bad for the boy, being so alone like this, or maybe it was because he was suspicious about that locket thing. Or hell, maybe it was just because the kid was cute.

Yami looked at him for a long, long time, his mind racing as he weighed his options. He was no fool, nor was he cowardly in any way. He knew he didn't know Seto nearly as well as he should, and on top of being armed and dangerous, both of them certainly didn't trust each other. Still...

"Are you coming or not?" demanded Seto, more annoyed at himself than at Yami.

The boy blinked, then gave a weak, tentative smile. "Okay."


It was a long drive back to Seto's condo, but it felt even longer than it should have. Seto was confused, reeling and irritated, suddenly a whole lot less certain about the world. His life -which had never been very stable in the first place- had suddenly turned upside-down. Whatever happened to working alone? Whatever happened to LIVING alone?

The assassin took a long, deep breath. Damn, he had too much on his mind. If it wasn't for Yami, he might have taken the time to drive around the city a few times at top speed.

As it were, they were quickly approaching downtown Domino. Looming high over them, the city towered across the night horizon, a dark beauty of metal sparkling with moonlight, glass, and the twinkling of window lights. The view was breath-taking, but too familiar to Seto to be of any interest.

Sighing, the assassin chanced a glance at his passenger and found the boy fast asleep, curled up in the velvet seat beside him. Bars of light passed over the boy's slender body, illuminating his honeyed skin and his tight leather outfit, his shirt gleaming in the dim light as his slender chest rose and lowered with his breaths. The boy's wild hair spilled over the back of the seat, his blond bangs curling daintily around his cheeks, his youthful face serene and tranquil as he slept.

He was simply ravishing.

Seto bit his lip and turned his focus back to driving. Alright, so the kid was cute, he admitted it. But a thought still nagged at him, eating away at his insides, bugging him to no end. No matter how skilled or attractive Yami was, it wouldn't change the fact that the boy knew far too much about Seto than he should. Than Seto can allow.

The assassin felt his throat tighten. Yes, he would help Yami… for now.

But someday he would have to kill him.


1 - Setep is Egyptian for "Chosen"

AN: Whheeeee, I hope that wasn't TOO terrible and somewhat interesting... :-p Again, I did base the big picture/plot/flashbacks on the plot of Noir (read my notes!) but all the details (the gun fights, all the dialogue, etc) are totally made up or based very very vaguely on what I remember, which sadly isn't much. Hopefully you guys aren't going to kill me for this fic... -runs away- PLEASE please PLEASE please leave a review! Like it? Hate it? Should I continue this story? A review would be greatly appreciated! XD Thanks guys! And I'll promise to work on my other fics too!