Kaiba is asleep when he gets the call, and he is still mostly asleep when he answers it. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Kaiba stumbles through a cursory - even cold - greeting, and drops back on the bed fighting off a yawn. In the next moment, he bolts upright, voice going sharp: "Suspended?"
"Ah." The woman on the other end of the phone pauses. "Yes, Kaiba Mokuba has been suspended from Domino Middle School."
Kaiba has already rolled out of bed, staggering through his room for a new shirt. Despite that, his voice is clear as ice, "On what grounds?" He pulls his shirt on, switching his phone between his hands seamlessly. "His record is-"
"We are well-aware he has a perfect record," she interrupts him, of all things, and Kaiba bristles immediately. "I'm afraid the situation is complex; it would be better if this were handled in person."
"Complex?" Kaiba shrugs his coat on - the flashy silver piece that he's waged Battles in - something to unnerve the administration. "Elaborate."
She's squirming, he can hear it. "Really, sir- it would be far better..." she sucks her breath in through her teeth, and Kaiba stalks from his room. "I think that, perhaps-" She swallows, loudly, and Kaiba almost snorts at her.
"I'm not sure how it could be complex; he has no warnings on his record," Kaiba is already out the door, waving his driver back - after all, he can drive faster. He clicks the door to his car open. The red one - the one he bought for Battle. "Perhaps you can explain to me how it could possibly be complex." He closes the door, voice steely, threatening. "As yet, I do not understand."
This teacher should be a puddle on her office floor, instead, with a faltering, but firm voice, she tells him, "I'm afraid this cannot be handled over the phone. Please notify reception upon your arrival." It is insulting, and the only satisfaction Kaiba has, is that she does not hang up on him first.
Tossing the phone into the well of the passenger seat, Kaiba thumbs the ignition, and hits the gas without hesitation. As he expects, by the time his car screeches onto the school grounds, there are people waiting for him. He recognizes the man as Nakamura Yoichi, one of Mokuba's teachers, but the woman he takes a moment to place. Her short, dark curl of hair is familiar though - someone he has met with in the past. Both teachers have set shoulders, tight jaws, as though they are both expecting a war, and Kaiba has every intention of bringing that. At last, almost an afterthought, he places the woman: Suzuki Minato, Headmaster.
They bow, Kaiba doesn't so much as blink. "Where is my brother?" He asks flatly, not bothering to greet any of them.
Suzuki gestures towards the building, and without a further word, they enter the building. Out of the corner of Kaiba's eye, he can see faces peering through the windows. Still, everything is secondary, until he finally enters Suzuki's office, and sees Mokuba sitting on one of the chairs. Mokuba's arms and legs are kept close, almost as though he has folded himself inwards, and Kaiba automatically pushes past Nakamura.
"Are you hurt?" He asks, a tinge of fear flaring in his chest.
"No." Mokuba meets his eyes for a moment, before decidedly looking away. Despite the deflected gaze, Kaiba watches Mokuba closely for a few moments, before looking back at Suzuki.
"I am still struggling for an explanation," he states, eyes narrowed.
"Well," Nakamura is a mess, pushing his glasses up. Kaiba has no patience for this man, and yet, he reaches for his cool, detached expression, as he barely tolerates Nakamura. "We were actually hoping you might be able to help us with that."
Kaiba's patience was not there when he got here, and his veneer of tolerance snaps. Whipping his head round, he stares at Suzuki pointedly. "You've told me to come here before you explained the situation," he flicks his head dismissively at Nakamura, "now he tells me that you have no explanation, and you want me to give you one - something I obviously do not have, or I would not be here."
Sharply, Suzuki indicates Mokuba, "Mokuba attacked-" there is a scoff from Mokuba, but he doesn't turn to look at them, "another student." Her lips purse. "And he has no explanation for himself."
"Haven't you asked the other student, this-" He waves a hand.
"Maruyama Eiji."
"Him." Kaiba doesn't have time for this. "Haven't you asked him what he did to provoke Mokuba?"
Suzuki gives an empty shrug of her hand. "He maintains Mokuba attacked him first, without provocation-"
"Does that seem likely?"
Testily, Suzuki stares Kaiba down as well as she can. "The entire classroom confirms Eiji's account." She squares her shoulders. "Given Mokuba's record, amongst other mitigating factors," that is a transparent nod to the Kaiba name and power, but it is strangely appreciated at the moment, "we believe there must be more to the situation." She sighs, "however, he has not spoken at all."
Scoffing, Kaiba looks between the teachers, "That should tell you everything."
"It tells us nothing. That is the point." Raising herself to her full height, which is not impressive, but Kaiba had long ago given up on height as the measure of a person, Suzuki continues. "We - humbly - request that you speak with Mokuba," Kaiba stares her down, and Suzuki falters. "We would like to handle this as delicately as possible..." Her eyes flick back to Mokuba. "For Mokuba's sake, at least."
They watch each other, but Suzuki has successfully convinced Kaiba, and he turns his attention to his younger brother. As before, Mokuba is curved into the corner of his seat, hands resting tightly in his lap, and ankles crossed. He studies the wall with an intense, and insincere focus. Sighing, Kaiba turns to face Mokuba again, this time crouching down to look him in the eye.
"Mokuba." There is a soft listening sound from Mokuba, and Kaiba takes that as a cue to continue. "What happened between you and Maruyama Eiji?" Mokuba doesn't look at him, and Kaiba's eyebrows furrow. He doesn't know why Mokuba won't speak now. Earlier, he can believe Mokuba would lapse into a protective silence, but Kaiba is here, how can Mokuba say nothing?
Whatever it is, Kaiba trusts Mokuba's judgment implicitly; his younger brother has dealt with situations that would intimidate grown men, and has done so with grace and intelligence. Standing again, Kaiba moves between Mokuba and the teachers. "My apologies," he begins, the statement mere courtesy, "it has obviously been a difficult day for everyone involved." He glances back at Mokuba, "I would like to take my brother home now."
"We understand." Nakamura slides out of the way readily, but Suzuki stays still.
"Of course," Kaiba clarifies, "I will be in contact shortly." He inclines his head to Suzuki, "I think we would all loathe to do anything hastily." Suzuki nods, and holds out a business card for Kaiba. He pauses, but takes it anyway, glancing at the number, before handing it back to her. She raises an eyebrow at that, but he reassures her smoothly, "As I said, I will be in contact. Mokuba?" Kaiba looks back at Mokuba, who slides out of his seat.
There is the itch of Mokuba's classmates watching them leave, but the Kaiba brothers have existed in a limelight since they were adopted. They shoulder the stare, not even shrugging it off, but instead leave straight-backed, eyes forward. There is a characteristic silence between them, like armour. The barest of eye-contact when Kaiba pulls the passenger-side door open for his brother.
However, once Kaiba is behind the wheel, and the school is behind them, those same defences come down. He glances from his back-mirror to Mokuba, only to find Mokuba gazing out the window. "Mokuba." His brother gives no reaction, no indication he has even heard Kaiba. Discouraged, Kaiba continues carefully: "What happened between you and this other student?"
"Eiji," Mokuba murmurs, still studying the buildings that flash by. Kaiba's eyes return to the road. There is something in Mokuba's tone, but Kaiba cannot place it.
Feeling inadequate, Kaiba adjusts his fingers on the steering wheel. "Whatever he did, I can-"
"I can handle it," Mokuba says forcefully, briefly turning his head to look at Kaiba fiercely, before staring back down at his lap. "It's fine," voice evening out, "I can handle it." For a brief moment, Mokuba's fingers dig into the fabric of his uniform, before relaxing. "You wore your Battle City coat."
"Ah," Kaiba meets Mokuba's gaze at last, only in the mirror, but still, there is a warm flush of relief. "I thought- perhaps-"
The quiet laugh is the best sound he has heard all day. "It's okay." Mokuba's smile fades. "Thank you, brother. Really, the Eiji thing doesn't matter."
"No...?"
"Yes," Mokuba confirms, "I took care of it." There is still that strange, silky quality in Mokuba's words, and his eyes drop back to his lap. "I can't explain myself."
Kaiba pauses, trying to catch Mokuba's eye in the mirror. Wants to gauge what that means. But Mokuba stays fixated on not meeting his gaze, and finally Kaiba has to ask: "Can't as in can't, or...?"
"I-" Mokuba shifts in his seat, leather squeaking. "I really would like not to..."
"Mm." Kaiba taps his fingertips on the curve of the wheel. "That makes things more difficult with your suspension." Still there is no question that Mokuba will not be forced into explanation. The curiosity scratches under Kaiba's skin, but he will defend Mokuba's decision until his back gives out and breaks. "I may need to take some time off work."
"Oh." His brother looks at Kaiba out of the corner of his eye, steadily watching him. "I'm sorry," Mokuba pauses, but not for long, edging slightly closer. "I... hope it won't be a long break."
"It won't," Kaiba assures, without really thinking about it. Until this is sorted out, how could he even consider returning to work? There is a brief lull of dread; after this, and with no explanation as well, surely Mokuba will face expulsion? Kaiba had been specific about a school with a zero-tolerance policy towards this sort of thing. Sighing, Kaiba leaned the car into a smooth turn. "It will be as long as it needs to be."
Still watching him closely, Mokuba asks softly: "What if they expel me?"
So it had occurred to Mokuba as well? He should have expected that. "As long as it needs to be," he repeats, and when he glances at Mokuba, he can see a brightness in Mokuba's eyes. Uncertainly, he smiles at his brother. "Anyway, we should spend more time together," he suggests, trying to see a bright-side. "You've been busy with schoolwork lately."
"I've been busy?" Mokuba echoes, petulance sparking in his voice. "You've spent the last year living in your office."
"Well-" he coughs.
"You have," Mokuba folds his arms over his chest, slouching into his seat. "Since you finished highschool, it's been all work, no play."
"Yuugi has been overseas this year," Kaiba defends, "there was no one else to play against."
"Jou- don't pull that face, brother - you could always duel Jou. He's only a little beneath you."
Giving an exaggerated huff, Kaiba narrows his eyes at the road. "He is also retaking his entrance exams for law."
"Oh right... Jou's a ronin," Mokuba looks up at the roof of the car, thoughtful, "and Yuugi is overseas. Growing up seems so boring."
"Highschool next year," he reminds Mokuba, who gives an immediate grimace. "Don't pull that face, Mokuba," he laughs then, the sound stilted but honest. Ill-practiced might be the word. "This will work out, I will make sure of it." It's sudden to the point of uncomfortable, but still, so honest that Mokuba reaches over to awkwardly pat his arm.
"I know." His brother retreats again, but the comfort is still a warm, ghost-like touch on Kaiba's arm. "Thank you."
Kaiba doesn't say anything to that, but there is an faint smile on his face as he pulls into their home. Exiting the car, brushing the long trail of his coat out of his way, the two of them head into the house. Normally being both awake, and home, Kaiba would ruffle Mokuba's hair, before moving off into his office. However, aside from a hasty e-mail down the chain of command, there is something pulling Kaiba away from his desk.
The strange silk to Mokuba's voice, the way he had folded into himself, like paper taking a new, cryptic form - something hidden in the origami close of his body language. There is more to this situation than Mokuba has implied, and much more than he has said. Worried, Kaiba moves to awkwardly ruffle his brother's hair, smoothing his fingers in it.
"You're getting tall," he says for lack of anything else to say, and it's true - Mokuba is growing like a weed.
Mokuba gives a soft huff, "Or you're shrinking."
He scuffs Mokuba's hair more. "Rude." Kaiba fiddles with the length of Mokuba's hair and tsks, "You need to trim this back."
Mokuba's grin is toothy, eyes flashing. "Says the mullet," he pauses, studying Kaiba for a moment, before asking uncertainly, "Did you wanna watch something before dinner?"
His brother should never be uncertain of his place in Mokuba's life, so Kaiba nudges him towards the living room. "Pick something out, I'll join you in a moment." Kaiba plucks his phone out, and waves off Mokuba's skeptical expression. "I will. I need to sort your school out."
By the time he joins Mokuba, Kaiba's stomach is growling, and his brother is asleep, sprawled on the arm of the sofa. Guiltily, Kaiba crouches to brush Mokuba's fringe out of his face, shifting to pick him up, but Mokuba is an unfamiliar weight now, and Kaiba feels insufficient, incapable for one dizzying moment too long. And then Mokuba is yawning, tugging at his sleeve, and wriggling up on the couch to make room. "Brother," his voice is tired, relieved even. "The movie."
"We should sleep."
"Why?" Mokuba gives a persuasive sounding laugh. "Not like we got school tomorrow." He squirms, sits up clumsily, and makes room for Kaiba.
"That," Kaiba says with a smile, "is where you're wrong."
