Me: Erm, yeah, so I need a disclaimer. Seto, will you say the disclaimer?
Seto: *writing something* I'm busy!
Me: Please! Yami only uses it to make me feel bad. *imitates Yami* "Julia is a loser who will never own Yu-Gi-Oh! no matter how much she wishes she did because she's not talented enough to write the shows anyway!"
Seto: *laughs*
Me: He DOES! *puppy dog eyes* Please!!
Seto: Oh, alright.
Me: Yay! ^^
Seto: Julia doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh! But she'll always have me in her dreams!
Me: Hee hee. I gotta dream more often. ^^ Anyway, hope you like!
CHAPTER ONE
"Oh! But he was tight-fisted hand at the grind stone, Scrooge! A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out a generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster" -A Christmas Carol
A young man sat at his desk, alone, on Christmas Eve. His coffee brown hair hung in his electric blue eyes, causing the colors to mix and blend when the dim office light hit him. He was no older than seventeen, but his eyes showed his callous distaste for the world. His hand ran swiftly over paper after paper, signing his name in bold italics. His eyes flew over the pages as well, scanning them for the slightest detail that he had misread before. Read and sign. Read and sign. Read and sign. It was a bit tedious but, for some reason, he liked it. It maintained order for him, even on a night like this.
Children ran about outside, their cheeks and noses rosy with the cold, and yet they did not care. They ran about calling a merry Christmas to their friends as they scurried home. Grown men were dancing about in the street, picking up their eager sons and daughters and carrying them home, laughing all the while. Women were cooking large meals, humming to themselves and calling their children in for dinner. Later, the families would all get together, friends would find each other, and everyone would gather those closest to them and spend Christmas Eve together. The young man sneered. This behavior, the laughter he heard ringing through the halls of his office building, the things he knew were going on outside; it all sickened him.
"Mr. Kaiba?"
Someone was calling him. Slowly, he looked up to face the lovely blond figure of his secretary.
"Yes, Betsy."
"You have a visitor"
He scowled at his desk, "No visitors. I'm working"
"Mr. Kaiba, Its your brother, sir"
He grimaced, and leaned back in his chair, "Tell him I'm working."
"He is very persistent, sir," Betsy's eyes tried to catch his, to capture what he was thinking, and to seal it in her own thoughts.
He stared back, complete disbelief a slight flicker of boredom showing on his handsome young face. He was about to say something else to the woman, when Mokuba Kaiba pushed past her and lunged into the office.
"Big Brother!" He grabbed Seto Kaiba around the waist, and hugged him tight. Seto flinched and reached down to touch his brother's head.
"Big brother, guess what!"
"What is it Mokuba? I'm working" The last word fell off of Seto's tongue in a hiss.
"Yugi Motou is having a Christmas party and we're invited!" The young boy's eyes sparkled with happiness.
Seto sneered, and turned away from his younger brother, "You know how I feel about Yugi Motou."
"Aw, come ON, Seto" Mokuba tugged at Kaiba's jacket sleeve, and the elder pulled away.
"No," Kaiba spoke curtly and turned to look at his brother, his eyes icy and cold.
Mokuba took a step back. Why was his brother acting so. scary? He was slightly frightened, and tried to catch Seto's distant eyes.
"Seto." the young boy's voice was soft and calm.
The innocence of a child, Kaiba thought simply.
"Mokuba, I have lots of work to do. Go home, and I'll see you tonight."
"When are you coming home?"
Kaiba took in a deep breath. His brother was trying his patience and tonight, of all nights, wasn't the best time for that.
"I'll be home in a little bit. Now, go. Tell Betsy I said to call the limo around for you."
Mokuba sighed, shuffling his feet, "But Seto. it. its Christmas."
Seto turned slowly and looked down at the younger Kaiba. He stared at his brother, one word tumbling from his lips in a dull murmur of disbelief and ice, "Christmas?"
Mokuba didn't look up at his brother, knowing very well that a speech was about to come. He braced himself for Kaiba's harsh voice and icy eyes, when someone walked inside.
"M-Mister Kaiba?" Betsy was in the door way again. Seto ran his tongue over his teeth, irritated by how she seemed to always barge in at the most inappropriate times.
"Yessssss?" He turned toward her, but instead saw Joey and Tristin push their way past her and into the office. Seto's eyes widened in frustration and disbelief.
"Hey, Kaiba!" Joey bounded into the room like a golden retriever and punched Seto in the arm. Seto drew back, disgusted.
"We're collecting money for the needy children in the city," Tristin held up a coffee can filled with change and shook it under Kaiba's nose, "'Tis the season!"
Seto's upper lip curled. Mokuba gulped, the subtle sound of a boy's repressed fears echoing through the silence.
"How much do ya wanna give, Kaiba?" Joey spoke first because he decided that no one else would.
"After all," Tristin butted in with the coffee can again, "You're pretty stinkin' rich, so we figured that you'd be the one to donate the most!"
Seto stared. Had their brains turned to month-old Jell-O? Who did they think he was?
Seto sat down at his desk, and produced a pen. He continued to write as his brother, his secretary, and the two boys watched.
"Uh." Joey broke the silence again, "Ya know, Kaiba, we've got more places to go. So."
"He wants to donate!" The shrill cry of the young boy startled all in the room, especially Seto, "He wants to donate!"
Mokuba jumped over to Joey and Tristin, and stared anxiously up at them, "He is the last true humanitarian! Why, he told me just this morning that he wanted to start his own drive for the homeless!"
"Mo-ku-BA!" Seto hissed at his brother, hoping he would back down.
"I mean, they have a point! We are rich, right, Seto?"
You could practically see the steam flowing out of Seto's ears. He shot a stony look at his brother, one he usually used when he was about to fire someone. He picked up his pen and scratched furiously on his paper.
"So. um. how much do ya wanna give?" Joey asked this question again.
"I want to be left alone," Seto's voice was bitter, like the biting frost that littered the trees.
"Erm." Tristin tried to catch Seto's eye, failing miserably, "So, you won't give us anything?"
Silence.
"But, Seto, its CHRISTMAS!" Mokuba, once again, tried his brother's patience that day. Then, it finally snapped.
Seto stood, pushing over a few stacks of papers so that they came crashing to the floor, and stared into the eyes of everyone in the room, his own burning with an angry fire that pierced their hearts, "Christmas? Christmas? If I hear that word from the lips of anyone in this office again, that man shall be stuffed and cooked with his own turkey, and placed in the ground with a stake of holly nailed to his coffin. I do not wish to donate for some charity. There are homes. There are poor houses. Have them go there. Or let them die on the streets, if they will not. It is a poor excuse to pick my pocket; for these pitiful excuses for human beings.
"I do not wish to go to a party. They are expensive, pathetic, and boring. I do not wish to do any thing else but sit here, in my office, where I hoped I might have been able to get away from the entire holiday. There will be no objections."
And with that, Seto sat back down and began to write again, his hand moving steadily over the crisp, white pages. Mokuba threw a glance at his brother over his shoulder as he, Joey, Tristin, and Betsy quietly exited the room. Seto was older in so many ways than he. But not just because he had been born first. It was something more.
Mokuba caught up with Joey and Tristin and silently placed a five dollar bill into the coffee can. Joey smiled and ruffled Mokba's hair. But both he and Tristin seemed hollow in their thanks. Mokuba leaned forward and whispered to them, barely audible,
"Can you give me a ride to Yugi's?"
Me: Okay lame, right? Or was it good? It'll get better once the ghosts start to visit, I hope. Well, after writing for Kaiba, I'm kind of remembering someone who pissed me off. And I feel like saying something. I'll say that I used to have an intro to this but it got taken off by some loser with nothing else to do. I'll see the jerk who reported me in hell! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Seto: Seriously, she's not usually like this. Writing affects her, and I guess that reviewer did to.
Me: *muttering inaudible phrases*
Seto: Anyway, hoped you liked it, please review, and remember it will get better.
Me: Yeah, I promise!
Yami: Hey, where am I? I WANNA BE IN THE STORY!
Me: Yeah, yeah. Later. *is working on her Drama monologue* Seto, come help me with this.
Yami: *to Seto* Author's pet
Seto: *grins*
Hope you liked. Please review.
Seto: *writing something* I'm busy!
Me: Please! Yami only uses it to make me feel bad. *imitates Yami* "Julia is a loser who will never own Yu-Gi-Oh! no matter how much she wishes she did because she's not talented enough to write the shows anyway!"
Seto: *laughs*
Me: He DOES! *puppy dog eyes* Please!!
Seto: Oh, alright.
Me: Yay! ^^
Seto: Julia doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh! But she'll always have me in her dreams!
Me: Hee hee. I gotta dream more often. ^^ Anyway, hope you like!
CHAPTER ONE
"Oh! But he was tight-fisted hand at the grind stone, Scrooge! A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out a generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster" -A Christmas Carol
A young man sat at his desk, alone, on Christmas Eve. His coffee brown hair hung in his electric blue eyes, causing the colors to mix and blend when the dim office light hit him. He was no older than seventeen, but his eyes showed his callous distaste for the world. His hand ran swiftly over paper after paper, signing his name in bold italics. His eyes flew over the pages as well, scanning them for the slightest detail that he had misread before. Read and sign. Read and sign. Read and sign. It was a bit tedious but, for some reason, he liked it. It maintained order for him, even on a night like this.
Children ran about outside, their cheeks and noses rosy with the cold, and yet they did not care. They ran about calling a merry Christmas to their friends as they scurried home. Grown men were dancing about in the street, picking up their eager sons and daughters and carrying them home, laughing all the while. Women were cooking large meals, humming to themselves and calling their children in for dinner. Later, the families would all get together, friends would find each other, and everyone would gather those closest to them and spend Christmas Eve together. The young man sneered. This behavior, the laughter he heard ringing through the halls of his office building, the things he knew were going on outside; it all sickened him.
"Mr. Kaiba?"
Someone was calling him. Slowly, he looked up to face the lovely blond figure of his secretary.
"Yes, Betsy."
"You have a visitor"
He scowled at his desk, "No visitors. I'm working"
"Mr. Kaiba, Its your brother, sir"
He grimaced, and leaned back in his chair, "Tell him I'm working."
"He is very persistent, sir," Betsy's eyes tried to catch his, to capture what he was thinking, and to seal it in her own thoughts.
He stared back, complete disbelief a slight flicker of boredom showing on his handsome young face. He was about to say something else to the woman, when Mokuba Kaiba pushed past her and lunged into the office.
"Big Brother!" He grabbed Seto Kaiba around the waist, and hugged him tight. Seto flinched and reached down to touch his brother's head.
"Big brother, guess what!"
"What is it Mokuba? I'm working" The last word fell off of Seto's tongue in a hiss.
"Yugi Motou is having a Christmas party and we're invited!" The young boy's eyes sparkled with happiness.
Seto sneered, and turned away from his younger brother, "You know how I feel about Yugi Motou."
"Aw, come ON, Seto" Mokuba tugged at Kaiba's jacket sleeve, and the elder pulled away.
"No," Kaiba spoke curtly and turned to look at his brother, his eyes icy and cold.
Mokuba took a step back. Why was his brother acting so. scary? He was slightly frightened, and tried to catch Seto's distant eyes.
"Seto." the young boy's voice was soft and calm.
The innocence of a child, Kaiba thought simply.
"Mokuba, I have lots of work to do. Go home, and I'll see you tonight."
"When are you coming home?"
Kaiba took in a deep breath. His brother was trying his patience and tonight, of all nights, wasn't the best time for that.
"I'll be home in a little bit. Now, go. Tell Betsy I said to call the limo around for you."
Mokuba sighed, shuffling his feet, "But Seto. it. its Christmas."
Seto turned slowly and looked down at the younger Kaiba. He stared at his brother, one word tumbling from his lips in a dull murmur of disbelief and ice, "Christmas?"
Mokuba didn't look up at his brother, knowing very well that a speech was about to come. He braced himself for Kaiba's harsh voice and icy eyes, when someone walked inside.
"M-Mister Kaiba?" Betsy was in the door way again. Seto ran his tongue over his teeth, irritated by how she seemed to always barge in at the most inappropriate times.
"Yessssss?" He turned toward her, but instead saw Joey and Tristin push their way past her and into the office. Seto's eyes widened in frustration and disbelief.
"Hey, Kaiba!" Joey bounded into the room like a golden retriever and punched Seto in the arm. Seto drew back, disgusted.
"We're collecting money for the needy children in the city," Tristin held up a coffee can filled with change and shook it under Kaiba's nose, "'Tis the season!"
Seto's upper lip curled. Mokuba gulped, the subtle sound of a boy's repressed fears echoing through the silence.
"How much do ya wanna give, Kaiba?" Joey spoke first because he decided that no one else would.
"After all," Tristin butted in with the coffee can again, "You're pretty stinkin' rich, so we figured that you'd be the one to donate the most!"
Seto stared. Had their brains turned to month-old Jell-O? Who did they think he was?
Seto sat down at his desk, and produced a pen. He continued to write as his brother, his secretary, and the two boys watched.
"Uh." Joey broke the silence again, "Ya know, Kaiba, we've got more places to go. So."
"He wants to donate!" The shrill cry of the young boy startled all in the room, especially Seto, "He wants to donate!"
Mokuba jumped over to Joey and Tristin, and stared anxiously up at them, "He is the last true humanitarian! Why, he told me just this morning that he wanted to start his own drive for the homeless!"
"Mo-ku-BA!" Seto hissed at his brother, hoping he would back down.
"I mean, they have a point! We are rich, right, Seto?"
You could practically see the steam flowing out of Seto's ears. He shot a stony look at his brother, one he usually used when he was about to fire someone. He picked up his pen and scratched furiously on his paper.
"So. um. how much do ya wanna give?" Joey asked this question again.
"I want to be left alone," Seto's voice was bitter, like the biting frost that littered the trees.
"Erm." Tristin tried to catch Seto's eye, failing miserably, "So, you won't give us anything?"
Silence.
"But, Seto, its CHRISTMAS!" Mokuba, once again, tried his brother's patience that day. Then, it finally snapped.
Seto stood, pushing over a few stacks of papers so that they came crashing to the floor, and stared into the eyes of everyone in the room, his own burning with an angry fire that pierced their hearts, "Christmas? Christmas? If I hear that word from the lips of anyone in this office again, that man shall be stuffed and cooked with his own turkey, and placed in the ground with a stake of holly nailed to his coffin. I do not wish to donate for some charity. There are homes. There are poor houses. Have them go there. Or let them die on the streets, if they will not. It is a poor excuse to pick my pocket; for these pitiful excuses for human beings.
"I do not wish to go to a party. They are expensive, pathetic, and boring. I do not wish to do any thing else but sit here, in my office, where I hoped I might have been able to get away from the entire holiday. There will be no objections."
And with that, Seto sat back down and began to write again, his hand moving steadily over the crisp, white pages. Mokuba threw a glance at his brother over his shoulder as he, Joey, Tristin, and Betsy quietly exited the room. Seto was older in so many ways than he. But not just because he had been born first. It was something more.
Mokuba caught up with Joey and Tristin and silently placed a five dollar bill into the coffee can. Joey smiled and ruffled Mokba's hair. But both he and Tristin seemed hollow in their thanks. Mokuba leaned forward and whispered to them, barely audible,
"Can you give me a ride to Yugi's?"
Me: Okay lame, right? Or was it good? It'll get better once the ghosts start to visit, I hope. Well, after writing for Kaiba, I'm kind of remembering someone who pissed me off. And I feel like saying something. I'll say that I used to have an intro to this but it got taken off by some loser with nothing else to do. I'll see the jerk who reported me in hell! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Seto: Seriously, she's not usually like this. Writing affects her, and I guess that reviewer did to.
Me: *muttering inaudible phrases*
Seto: Anyway, hoped you liked it, please review, and remember it will get better.
Me: Yeah, I promise!
Yami: Hey, where am I? I WANNA BE IN THE STORY!
Me: Yeah, yeah. Later. *is working on her Drama monologue* Seto, come help me with this.
Yami: *to Seto* Author's pet
Seto: *grins*
Hope you liked. Please review.