Here is the final chapter of The End of All Things. I hope that it's a satisfying conclusion to all of you wonderful people who have supported me through the writing of this. God bless each and every one of you. Thanks.

It was a hard fight, every breath a battle, every day bought by suffering, moments and memories laced in tears for Mokuba. To see the valient fight against the inevidable was cruel, and Mokuba was no longer sure if it was a curse or a mercy that Seto had to endure those final weeks.

Seto maintained the tortured lingering with every fierce bit of Kaiba determination, the same will that had perservered nearly six months longer than the doctor's deadline. It was a fact that flattered his ego, even if its price was more pain, and fewer of the 'good days' where Seto felt well enough to resume somewhat of a normal life. Seto felt his days waxing as thin as moonlight over water, his body failing, his weight dropping even more, until his cheekbones were gaunt, hollowed out crags, and his face seemed to be mostly eyes. Seto had always been slender, but the cancer had reduced that sleek grace to skeletal remnants. Mercifully, Seto was mostly free of pain, due to the powerful concoction of pain-killers and the constant aide of the morphine pump. His increasing fight for air was eased by the portable oxygen canister he was able to wheel with him when he felt up to getting out of bed. At first, he hated the alien feel of the plastic rooted into his nostrils, but it became a necessity now. He coped with the drying out of his nostrils by lubricating them on a regular basis,and eventually got used to the sensation of the plastic tubing being looped over his cheeks and around his ears.

Gone, too, were any pretentions about his clothing, or maintaining the facade of being the elegant and untouchable monster he had taken pride in being so long ago. It had been viciously stripped from him, but Seto had reconciled himself to that surrender long before it was necessary. While he still ached for the old power, he was secretly relieved that he didn't have to bear any more of KaibaCorp's weight on his

narrowing shoulders. It would have been ludicrious to try, now. Where he once wore the famous trenchcoats and the commanding suits, Seto's wardrobe was now whatever the hell he felt like wearing. Mokuba had to choke back the snicker when Seto started wearing the flannel pajama pants, and the bulky sweaters, but almost cried when Seto only flinched in hurt, and stared up at him, whispering softly, "Mokuba, these are the only things that keep me warm and don't hurt me. Do you really think I give a damn about how hot I look now?"

Seto only blinked in the long silence, the hollows of his jutting cheekbones making the searing gaze of his eyes that much more profound.

Mokuba did not know what to say, so he only shook his head, contritely.Mokuba felt rightfully ashamed of himself when he saw Seto's cheeks flame, as he uneasily curled arms over his shrunken chest, as if to shield himself before he continued, relunctantly, "You know that it's spread to most of my internal organs. It just hurts like hell to have anything confining across my abdomen now." Seto shifted uncomfortably, grimaced as he moved wrong. Silently, Mokuba gently slid an arm behind Seto's spine, and raised him up, wedging the pillow behind him, and carefully lowering him back down. Seto sighed in relief, whispered, "Thank you. That helps." Mokuba only gave him a tired smile, held up the velour blanket that had fallen to the floor. "Do you need this?"

Seto smirked, nodded, as Mokuba carefully draped it over his knees, and then piled on the over-stuffed, cloud-soft quilt over Seto's wilted frame. Seto yanked it up to his chin, smirked in appreciation, and drifted off to sleep, Mokuba's reassuring hand still cupped gently over his shoulder.

It was a bitter, grey morning, with the wan rays of light casting sepia shadows over the glossed wooden floor of Seto's room, as Mokuba rose from his perch, and shook himself awake with a yawn.

He worked out the crick in his neck, and hastily stepped away to avoid disturing Seto's slumber.

It was the sudden, loud silence that Mokuba noticed first, as he lurched to Seto's side in a panic,

shoved a palm over his nose, nearly wept with relief when he felt the slow breath against his flesh.

It was the sluggish rasp he first noticed, the flinch of how cold Seto's skin was against his own,

the long, tortured moments before Seto's body bent with the effort to breathe. Fearfully, Mokuba

peered down at Seto, and frantically pawed at his brother, heedless of the rattled teeth, or how

harsh his fear made his actions. Seto's eyes finally slid open, hazy and dim,and he only stared at Mokuba, glazed and unfocused, and...completely unaware of his brother's presence.

"Seto?" Mokuba said his name softly, hoping to prompt some sort of response from Seto.

With the monumental effort that Mokuba was never aware of, Seto finally dragged himself back from the depths of his own departure long enough to linger and comfort.

"Mokuba." Seto rasped out the name, as his hadn slowly crawled up and clenched Mokuba's. Worriedly,

Mokuba grimaced at how cold Seto's hand felt, almost as if he were holding the hand of a corpse..

"Little brother." Mokuba stared down at him, shivering as Seto closed his eyes, and whispered with all the finality of his impending demise, "I won't be here at the end of the night.Mokuba, I love you."

Mokuba's tears rose in the sudden torture of the understanding, as Seto helplessly smoothed away his black hair from his face, gave him a kind smile. "It's alright, Mokuba. This was going to happen eveuntally, don't you remember that?"

It had been a bitter slide,a gradual decline that had suddenly developed into an allout plunge.

To hear those dreaded words falling from his own brother's mouth only froze everything inside, as Mokuba only sat by Seto, torpid, blinking, not breathing, not understanding anything beyond the ice that had filled everything, and the heat that was burning his tormented instincts.

Nearly a year of knowing, and suffering, and horrible anticipation had done nothing to prepare him for this. Of all the lonely nights of the hospitalization, and the treatment, consulting with doctors and pleading and praying, and now all of that was crashing down into one quiet moment of Seto's departure. It was sadistic, the severing of an existance, the finale broken off, and Seto's exit all the more vicious in how quickly it had come to be.

And now...Seto's strength was faltering miserably, and it took nearly every bit of his reserves to even say Mokuba's name loud enough to pull him back into this moment and away from that drowning sea of despair. Gritting his teeth, Seto jabbed his finger towards the cell phone beside his bed, and heaved out, "Mokuba, please call Yami. Tell him to come,now."

Yami was still befuddled by sleep, as the piercing ring of the phone hit him with the force of a slap. Irritably, he snatched up the reciever and held it to his ear before it could disturb Yugi or Solomon. "Moto residence." He barked out, yawning. When he heard Mokuba's sob, he clenched the reciever, shuddering. "Mokuba? What-"

"Yami, it's Seto. He...he doesn't have long, and he asked me to call you. Yami? Please come here, as quickly as you can. I...I can't handle being here alone, and Seto needs to-"

Yami had not even bothered to hang up the phone as he shot out the door.Trembling, tears, and memories, of their loathing for each other in the beginning, the guarded conversations, and then the friendship that had grown between them. The hesitant way that Seto had so uneasily let Yami into his life, the suprising kindness and that sarcastic wit against everything else. That faith in so much loss, that unwavering love of his little brother, all ending in a few hours. Yami bolted towards the looming mansion, his breath hitching in his lungs from the bolting drive over, the mad race out the door, literally against time itself. It hurt Yami when he had the sick realization that knowing that Seto was eventually going to die had absolutely no way of making it more believable, or easy now.

Striding forward, his knuckles brushed over the polished door, then thundered as he pounded the aggitated fist against the wood, fighting the urge to kick it down if it stood in his way. It was

abruptly opened by the wan, haggard face of Rolland, as he slid the door open, to allow Yami entrance. Yami gave him a curt, polite nod, did not answer the polite greeting, only turned those sharp eyes to Rolland, and nearly choked on the question. "Where is Seto?"

Silently, Rolland shook his head, the tears rising in his eyes as he beckoned Yami to follow him upward to the spiraling stairwell, past all of the rooms, past all the memories and past everything Yami had come to know. Rolland only opened Seto's door with a sad shake of his head, and stepped away to let Yami in. Lingering, he lay a hand on Yami's shoulder, and whispered, "I'm sorry, young man. I'm so sorry." Wiping a tear, Rolland turned away, and Yami was left alone.

And there, swathed like a revered god in the white sheets, lay Seto. His eyes were closed, his breathing harsh. The only sounds in the room were Mokuba's hitching sobs, and the hiss of the oxygen prongs. Seto lay propped on a pillow, his bed cranked until he was nearly sitting upright.Yami was cringing inwardly at the wilting neck, and the bittersweet anguish of seeing that proud head so bowed against the wait.

Seto's skin burned white, the thin laticework of blue veins perversely bright against the wan flesh. Mercifully, he was clad in his favorite sweater, and draped in that beloved velour blanket. Mokuba had done a masterful job of ochrestrating Seto's last moments as closely as he could to what Seto wished, and it showed from the peaceful smile on Seto's face.

Yami bit back the cry of realization of how much dying had already taken from his friend.

Mokuba lifted his head over his shoulder, saw Yami, and tilted his head in invitation. He did not rise, nor did he let go of Seto's hand.

Yami did not bother to stop the slow leak of tears, as Mokuba whispered, "Thank you so much for coming, Yami. It means a both of us." From that haunted look, to the wan greeting, and the trembling lurch as Mokuba rose to his feet, Yami could see that the younger Kaiba had literally stayed all night at his brother's side to keep his lonely watch.

"Seto at least deserves that much from me, Mokuba." Yami whispered, as Seto stirred at last, and opened his distant azure eyes in their clouded gaze to Yami. Squinting, Seto's lip twisted between his teeth in a grimace of pain, before he finally rasped out, "Yami?"

Seto turned his face towards Yami, swallowed hard. And then, Seto gave Yami the brightest smirk he could manage behind the oxygen prongs and the sheer exhaustion.

"It's not the exit that I hoped for, Yami. But it's a lot better than the one you stopped me from taking too early."

Yami smirked through his tears, as he shook his head. "Glad to be of service, Seto."

'Really? I'm not just a dying pain in the ass?" The coy question was harsh from his gasping breath, but Yami made no attempt to shush him now.

"No."Yami whispered, in bittersweet, nearly sobbing laughter. "You're a dying pain in the ass who happens to be...a friend."

Seto weakly flung his hand up, his thumb jutting, and trembling. "Yay. I'm glad that I've finally done something with my life."

"More good than you know." Yami whispered softly, not bothering to stop the tears that were trickling down

his cheeks, as he just shook his head at seeing Seto restored.

"I guess now is the time where I say some poetic last words, while I can." Seto snickered weakly, before Yami felt his fingers on his arm.

"Write them down for history's sake,Yami. This should be damn good." Seto smirked, again, as he gripped Mokuba's hand harder.

"Tell them that I had it good. That I had a damn good little brother, that I was rich, and never backed down, and I almost didn't learn how not to be an asshole until it nearly cost me everything worth keeping.Tell them that I died in more peace than I ever had in life, and I wasn't ashamed of that. Tell them that I found my way, by the grace of God and the skin of my teeth, and most of all..that it was worth it."

The words cost him dearly, as Seto bit back a groan of pain, panting as his fists tightened in Mokuba's clinging, anchoring hands.

"Seto?" Mokuba's tortured question forced Seto to pry his eyes open, and he slowly relaxed when the agony slacked its ebbing grip as abruptly as it came. He could feel himself fading, but, was the pain.

With a soft sigh of relief, Seto's body unclenched, and slid in grateful release, as Seto gave Mokuba a small smile of reassurance. "It...doesn't hurt, Mokuba." Mokuba felt Seto's finger tighten in his own,as he opened his azure eyes again. Mokuba started openly sobbing, as he gathered Seto up in his arms, winced at how fragile even his bones felt against the solid, healthy living muscle that Mokuba never noticed before.Seto felt the hot wet of Mokuba's tears, saw them shimmer in the depths of those night-hued eyes, cupped one of those precious drops in his quaking finger, watched it shine as it trailed over his knuckles. He heard the sobbing, felt his gut

clench in anguish at its cause, and his helplessness for only one tortured moment, until Mokuba only gave him that radiating smile of understanding, brushed his black bangs and tears away as he reached down to cradle Seto against him.

"Please, let me hold him one more time. Let me give him that last gift." Seto prayed, as he winced and tried to lift his arms, but found he could not.

"As I have held you both through this, so I shall help you hold him now." Seto felt the reassurance trickling over the pain as it gently wove through his core and lingered as kind as an old friend. And, though unseen by Yami and Mokuba, Seto watched as Hands encircled his own. Seto's arms fell like wings over the bent shoulders, gliding over Mokuba's tremoring back, in that old gesture of

brotherly protection as Mokuba sank into the embrace, surrendering with a bowed head and whispering Seto's name.

Seto both held him and let him go, in that moment. Held him with all the promise of the future, held him with the strength Seto had gifted him with, held him for all the years that Mokuba might make his years through the world with Seto's example and memories to guide him home again. And, with the next breath, he let him go. Let Mokuba go to wherever his heart dictated, to live a life as

huge as his dreams would allow, let Mokuba forge his own way instead of forever living under the shadow of being a Kaiba. Seto let him go to

Breath, so harsh to keep and suddenly so unncessarily as Seto's flesh finally yielded itself, and he shed his body with one liberating shrug. Mortality had finally met the eternity that he had longed for. And Seto could only shiver in awe at the suddeness of the change. It was as if he were a drowning man who had finally discovered the air. Or a shattered piece of star that had finally

discovered the sky. Seto felt the year of tortured ache, and suffering fall away from his existance as if it never were there at all. Tears and scars and the dull, surrendering grind of the days faded. The forced, broken surrender to flesh and disease and death ended with the arch of heaven's mercy radiating through his core and engulfing whatever misery could still wound.

"Do not fear leaving him, Seto. You will see him again."

"Will he be alright without me?"

Seto could not help but cringe at what sort of reaction that questioning the Almighty would garner, but he was mercifully relieved with the warm, understanding chuckle, and the kindly reassurance,"Fear not, Seto. In the life you lived, you found that faith, hope and love remain forever. And the greatest thing you gave your brother is love. I will not leave your brother to face life alone."

Seto could only nod, whisper, "Thank you." Whatever remained of Seto's fear was mercifully swept away by the wry chuckle of joyful mirth as the Voice commented, "Besides, your brother is a Kaiba. Does that not reassure you, Seto?"

Seto could not help the smirk that haloed his face, before he turned back to gaze at his brother still holding his limp,still body. And Seto was awed to see tears trickling down Yami's face as he soothed Mokuba, softly. "Yami." Seto spoke his name, and was suprised to see Yami's head lurch upward from Mokuba's shoulder, and peer with a knowing smile into the shadows of the gloaming light. Yami may have indeed known that he was staring at Seto as he raised his hand in a gesture of farewell, as his words rose for only Seto to hear.

"May you find your peace, my friend. And may you know how much it was worth it to me as well."

Somehow, Yami felt the tears on his face lessen a bit when he heard the echo of Seto's merry laughter for an odd moment or two.Yami tilted his head, straining to hear,and Seto gawked as Yami only nodded and smiled to himself. "Worth it, Seto."

Seto lingered, for one last moment, one last look, as his unseen hand caressed Mokuba's shoulder with every fierce bit of love and sorrow and that could be conveyed in the parting. Mokuba wiped his tears, slid one hand over his shoulder,left it there, as he felt his brother's unseen arms around him, for the last time. Smiling through his tears, Mokuba cupped the locket that held his brother's picture, felt the grief slacken a bit when he palmed it to his heart. "I love you, big brother. I love you

so much."

And somehow, Mokuba heard Seto's soft voice over the distance of time and suffering answer back, softly, "I love you, too, Mokuba."

Seto felt the timid, considering hands gliding over and down his shoulders, meeting at the small of his back and draping his face in the familiar warmth of Mokuba's quivering shoulder.

Quivering arms, pale, and blue-veined, and only a memory of being tan, and muscled rose like wings over Mokuba, engulfing him, steadying him...loving him, and saying farewell in a way that words never would.

Mokuba felt Seto's tear against his cheek, heard the inhaling breath against his ear, almost loud in the sacred hush that had fallen between them.

Seto's voice was choked with the cost of speaking, harsh against the clenched jaws, the last act of defiance against the inevitable, but unmistakably tinged with peaceful acceptance.

"It was worth it. You were worth it, little brother."

Mokuba felt the familar slender fingers arching their trail through his hair. It was the one gesture that Seto always did to comfort him. Reaching upwards, Mokuba gently intwined his fingers with Seto's, and held him against him.

"I love you so much, big brother. And I'm so proud of you." He carefully surrendered Seto's body back to the waiting sheets, and watched as Seto groaned softly, his lips twisting. Seto still kept his grip on Mokuba's hand, and Mokuba's shining eyes fell on their interlocking fingers, Seto's long, slender fingers still engulfing his own dark ones. It was a symbol of how their time and days had become so interwoven, how love withstood all the storms, and now, with one departing, still remained strong. Still...Mokuba thought, the realization, and the reassurance trickling through his shattering heart with healing grace. It was a gift from heaven, this awareness of the truth,and the strength for Mokuba to finally give Seto what he needed the most, right now.

"Seto." Mokuba choked his name through the tears, as he forced the words out. "I'm going to be alright, big brother. You've given me the strength to know that now. You can let go, Seto. It's alright."

Seto opened his eyes for the last time, his eyes lit with the peace not found on this side of the sky, in contrast of his wan skin, and his torpid body. Mokuba and Yami both gasped to see the

sheer life that was burning in their depths, as the peaceful smile of surrender settled itself on Seto's mouth.

Heaven itself seemed to be radiating from the azure haze that filled his eyes with something more profound than pain or tears. Mokuba would always remember that moment, and it gave him solace during the dark and lonely years that followed.

Mokuba felt Seto's hand in his own tighten its grip, and then, the slow surrender as his hand grew slack, and

silently fell limp against the sheets.

Mokuba felt Seto's body quiver as his chest drew in three shaking breaths, felt them exhaled in a harsh, relieved gasp, as Seto's last words floated to fill the silence..

"Worth it...Mokuba."

From the sudden, profound, loud disbelief, the sacred weight of all its death and its passage, Mokuba felt to the core of his soul, Seto's spirit lingering, filling the room, as it left its mortal confines, and rejoiced in being free at last.

Yami knew from the both the relaxing of Seto's body, to the deep, cleansing sigh that escaped his lips for the last time, that Seto had died. Or, perhaps more appropriately, Mokuba's sacred, reverent whisper to Yami, "Seto's gone home. He's free."

Yami only nodded in tears.

There, in the elaborate casket, propped up on a white silk pillow, so serene, and so still, lay the earthly remains of Seto Kaiba. His sharp, angular features were at rest, the mouth drawn up in a relaxed smile, the gentle peace settling on his remains like a blanket. Mokuba had asked that his brother's body be clad in his favorite outfit, the white coat with all its buckles at the sleeves, and the impressive flare at his hips. The long-sleeved dark shirt, and finally, the small, silver card-shaped medalian that bore Mokuba's picture with a promise of Seto's protection.

Mokuba smiled at the memory of Seto's presentation of the necklace, the awkward, embarrassed flush of his cheeks as he almost shyly called Mokuba into his office unexpectantly. They had a very trying time with each other as of late, Mokuba's burgenoning need for independence clashing sharply with Seto's terror of not being able to protect his younger sibling, and only family left from the onslaught of the world he experienced. Mokuba slank in, his lips curling into a begruging pout, granting his brother an extremely relunctant audience in all his teen-age show of nastiness.

"What?!" The irritated question was squawked out at Seto, who sat, looking uncertain, and wounded, before his face hardened.

"I know that things haven't been easy between us, Mokuba, and I know that you feel like I'm trying to keep you trapped here..." Seto's paternal speech came to an end with Mokuba's biting eyeroll.

There was only a hurt sigh from Seto, as he almost timidly shoved the glittering necklace forward, and looked away. "This is for you. I don't know what teenagers wear nowadays, so I'll understand if you hate it..."

Mokuba gave Seto a dubious glare through the dark fluff of his bangs, before he scraped the necklace off the table. "Thanks." He whispered, with an uncomfortable shrug.

"You're not under any obligation to wear the damn thing, Mokuba." Seto's harsh words were cut off as

Mokuba opened the tiny clasp, and openly gaped at the picture. It was taken of both of them, in their younger years, back when Seto was roughly the size he was now, and still wore those pristine sweaters that Gozaburo always forced him to wear. Seto's arm was draped over Mokuba's shoulders in a protective gesture, and Mokuba's chubby little arms were flung over his big brother's neck in a fierce embrace, the bright smile radiating from him, complete with gap-toothed inocence, and eyes filled with pride and love shimmeering up at his big brother.

Seto's gut clenched in humilation, as he saw Mokuba's eyes widen, and then suddenly fly up to meet his own. What he wasn't expecting was to see tears welling up in the dark eyes, or the sudden feeling of arms

around his neck, as Mokuba sobbed.

"Mokuba, what-" Seto was unable to finish as Mokuba only shook his head, coiled up tighter around him, and continued his crying into his shoulder. Seto honestly did not know what to do. Damn it, he had tried so hard to raise Mokuba the best he knew, and it seemed that he was every bit the failure that Gozaburo convinced him of...

Seto shivered, thumped Mokuba on the back uncomfortably, but this was clearly not working. With an awkward sigh, Seto hesitantly draped both arms over Mokuba's quivering back in a timid embrace, and was rewarded by Mokuba's tightening arms.

"I love you, Seto, and I'm sorry." Mokuba's voice was muffled by the sobs and his mouth being against Seto's shoulder.

Seto only embraced him in return with a whispered, "It's alright, Mokuba. I promised you once I was always going to be there for you. I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that."

The words, ressurrected from the memory lingered in the deepening void of his heart, spanned the distance of eternity, reverberated the promise that Seto had fought so hard to keep. They lingered in Mokuba's breaking heart, seared down, cutting deeper than any blade ever could, but leaving the ache of solace instead of the overwhelming grief. For one moment, Mokuba was certain he felt the embrace of solid arms, steady in their grip across his spine, cradling him strength and warmth instead of the tortured prospect of facing a lifetime without his brother at his side.

Mokuba's hand cradled the locket in one hand, as the other swiped along his cheekbone to brush away a tear, from grief that cut so deeply because it was so etched in love. Of a heart breaking because it was worth being broken to be Seto Kaiba's sibling.

Mokuba whispered softly..."Wait for me, big brother. It's worth it."

The span of 46 years had passed remarkably fast, but Mokuba Kaiba felt every bit the age of seventy as he lay staring idly at the shadow's passing of the dark limbs outside. He had lived a good life, and was ready to let go. His eyes drifted to the wall of gold plaques, with his name emblazoned on each. A few were civic awards, but most were

And, because of him, and indirectly, the huge slush fund of KaibaCorps, there had been a surge of progress made towards eradicating the cruel disease that took his older brother from him so long ago. It was no longer a death sentence, but a treatable disorder that gave years to lives that were condemned, and the future that Seto had been robbed of. It was a bittersweet tribute to the Kaiba drive and grit, that drove Mokuba on with the same characteristic fire that his brother had burned so brightly during his life. It was fitting and right that none of the pain be wasted, or the wisdom squandered. Seto would have been pleased to know that KaibaCorps had developed from being just a company dedicated to making toys and distractions to a powerhouse of hope in that fight. Mokuba himself, in the later years, had demonstrated the Kaiba gift of having more than one talent,still remaining CEO of KaibaCorps, but pursuing a master's, then a postdoctorate degree in chemisty, then bio-pharmacuticuls. He himself had devoted much of his time to research, driven on for the love of his brother, and he was very successful.

The passage of years had not gone unnoticed, or unmarked. Mokuba's hair had lost its characteristic black fluff, and had turned a dignified silver over the years, though he retained his sparkling black eyes, and his gently gruff voice.

The beloved Mokuba Kaiba had drifted away, peacefully in his sleep. The press noted that he had passed away with a smile on his face, and a hand curled reverently around a battered locket that contained the faded picture of two smiling boys, staring uncertainly at a tormenting future, one of them, with burning blue eyes, and arms protectively curled over the shoulders of the younger one. The younger one had his arms wrapped in a fierce embrace around the older one, with a toothy grin that came secure in knowing that his big brother was near by, and it was going to be alright.


"SETO!!" The boyish shriek exploded from amazement, as Seto glided out of the shadows, his beloved face still curled with that characteristic smirk, and his azure eyes glimmering. Seto's smirk transformed into a beaming smile, as he stooped to peer into Mokuba's eyes.

"Mokuba." His voice, though not heard for a few decades, maintained that familiar silken roughness, as Seto

opened his arms wide, welcoming as the gates of Heaven themselves, as Mokuba flung himself into the embrace.

"Big brother, I missed you so much!" Mokuba nearly sobbed, as he only squirmed into the embrace tighter against Seto's gentle removal of the iron grip that now held his torso. Seto's arms, so strong, and familiar,

wrapped his brother up, and held him, like they did so long ago, as the two Kaibas were united for the first time in a span of nearly 5 decades.

Seto grunted, and Mokuba abruptly dropped his grip in alarm. Such a gesture of squeezing his older brother would have caused agony when he had the cancer.

"Seto? Did I hurt y-"

Seto scowled, sharply, but then gave him a tolerant grin, shook his head in dismissal, and raised that eyebrow again, wryly. "Mokuba." He began with infinite patience, as he gestured to the stunning bueaty around them.

"We're not bound by the same suffering we had on earth, little brother. It's hardly that way here. Now, I get it all, but then..." He whispered bluntly. "You know...with God? It wouldn't be much of a heaven if I still had my cancer, now would it? Now, little brother, I want you to know how proud of you I am for giving other people the years I didn't have. You should know, Mokuba...there are thousands of people, that are on earth longer because of your work. You have their gratitude, you know."

Seto only gave Mokuba his belovedly familiar smirk, with the same tilt of his head. "We have a long time to discuss that, little brother. Believe me, Mokuba...we definitely have the time now.