Enchanting Melody

A/N: My other fic, more fun. Easy to write, but not as long. Oh well. I have nothing else to say. Hope it's enjoyable. (That was a lot of short sentences.)

Disclaimer: I own no part of YGO, nor Apple's iPod.

Chapter One:

Mokuba hopped into the back seat of the black Lincoln Zephyr. He had been up since eight in the morning, long after his older brother had gone to work. He had done his studies, played and beat countless video games, and watched three movies on his theater size television. He couldn't think of anything else to do, or anything that seemed mildly appealing. He had done it all before, and anytime he felt bored he went to his brother's work and found something to do. It always worked to cure his ennui before, so he had no reason to believe it wouldn't work this time. Mokuba leaned forward and tapped on the privacy window that separated the chauffeur from him, signaling that he was ready to go. He relaxed back on the seat and pulled his iPod out.

His brother was the CEO of a major record label, so anytime he got in a new band, Mokuba would download it on his video iPod and listen to it all the way through. He liked most of the bands that went through Twister Records, but lately they all started to sound the same. In the beginning of the record name, they had gotten some really interesting, fresh bands with a new sound, but now it was all just rap, pop, or bizarre electric compilations that had no real instrument sound in them. All of it was just fake.

Mokuba stared at the passing LA scenery he had known since he was a child. He had never gone to school, and a part of him hated that because he had no friends, but he got to do just about anything he wanted. He would often go to the company and sit in on recordings or meetings, glad to be doing anything other than sitting at home. He didn't know how other teens did it, sitting in a classroom, all day, five days a week. At least he got to go out when he was bored.

The chauffeur pulled up to the front of the enormous building, parked, and quickly ran over to Mokuba's door to open it. Mokuba got out and looked up at the tall gray building in front of him. His brother had expanded the business significantly since he took over after their father's suicide, grossing millions more than his predecessor.

"I'll have my brother drive me home," Mokuba said to the waiting chauffeur. The chauffeur nodded and closed the door, walking back over to the driver's side and getting in. Mokuba heard the car start and walked into the building. The automatic sliding glass doors opened for him with a swish and he was greeted by the rapid talk of people on their cell phones in the lobby. It seemed like people were always talking on their cells when he walked in, and he wondered if they ever stopped. Mokuba smiled when he thought of them taking a shower while simultaneously holding their phones up to their ears, trying not to get it wet.

Mokuba walked past the crowd of people in the lobby to one of the reflective metal doors of the elevator and pressed the up button. He listened to the piped in music in the elevator room, and noticed that it was one of the label's current top bands. One that he wasn't too fond of. He sighed and tried to think of something else while kicking at the carpeted floor. The elevator arrived with a ding and opened its doors. Mokuba was just about to walk in when a man came running up to him. Mokuba tried to fish out a name, knowing the face, but couldn't remember, so he smiled politely and held the elevator doors open so they wouldn't close and leave him behind.

The man stopped when he was standing next to Mokuba and doubled over, heaving from the exertion. "Mo.." he took a deep a couple deep breaths and stood up straight, red in the face, "Mokuba, here. Could you give this to Mr. Kaiba?" Mokuba was still trying to get a name to match the face when he looked down what the man was holding. It was a CD, and looking curiously back up at the man, Mokuba took it.

"Why do I need to take it?" Mokuba asked.

"Mr. Kaiba doesn't want to be disturbed right now. He didn't tell anyone why, and we know it's best not to disturb him when he asks not to be." The man smiled and looked away at something else. "Oh, I have to go, take that to him, they're a really good band."

Mokuba waved at the nameless man and looked down at the demo's cover. It was a simple white piece of paper with the band's name in Sharpie on it. Usually, bands tried to make their demo covers look professional, Mokuba guessed it was a way of showing how unique they were, so this band either didn't know, or thought their music was so good they didn't need extra stuff.

Mokuba frowned as he entered the elevator and read the band's name and track names. "Unspoken Torment" did not sound like a band Seto would sign on, Seto figured it was more profitable to go with fads, which was currently rap and the like. This band looked like a metal or rock band, something that Mokuba liked, and didn't have enough of.

The elevator dinged again and the doors opened up to a sunny receptionist's desk with big, green ferns and large doors just behind it. Mokuba walked out of the elevator and waved to the thirty-something year old woman sitting behind the desk.

"Hi Michelle," he greeted.

The receptionist smiled and waved back. "He's not in right now, but go on in, you can wait for him," she informed.

"Okay, thanks," Mokuba opened the doors and strolled over to the built-in CD player. He inserted it into the slot, pulling the file open on the computer screen and picking a song at random. It started out with a slow, rhythmic beating of the drums, gradually giving more emphasis on an electric guitar and a steady, melodious voice. After about thirty seconds of this intro, all sound stopped. Mokuba was just about to go see if something was wrong with the computer when the music started playing again, louder and with more of a metal sound to it. The voice came back screaming something, but calmed down to a normal singing voice, and the song began. As it progressed, Mokuba found himself enjoying it more and more, and the end of the song came too fast.

Mokuba heard the door start to open and quickly stopped the music. He turned around to face the door just as Seto Kaiba walked in wearing immaculate black slacks and a white collared shirt. Seto glanced at Mokuba.

"What were you listening to?" Seto asked, sitting down behind his desk.

"A demo tape," Mokuba answered. "They're really good, you should sign this one on now."

"It didn't sound like something this company is interested in, at the moment. We'll keep them on file," Seto said, looking down at some papers on his desk.

Mokuba wasn't going to give up that easy. "But don't you think a variety of music would be good? Just in case this fad goes out of style?"

"We already have a variety."

"But those bands are old, they're losing their touch. This one is new. It's got a sound I've never heard before, kinda creepy," Mokuba added, eyeing the CD case on the desk.

"No, I'm not going to waste money on this. We're doing fine right now," Seto said flatly, scribbling on one of the papers he was reading. Mokuba could tell he wasn't gaining any ground, sometimes Seto could be really stubborn. Mokuba backed away and turned to leave, but not before removing the CD from the player and putting it in the case.

"Where are you going?" Seto asked.

"I'm gonna go home, there's nothing for me to do here," Mokuba shrugged, but he smiled inwardly, he had a plan.

"Fine."

Mokuba walked out of the office humming the new tune. He got in the elevator and rode it down to the fourth floor, where he got out and walked through a long, artificially lighted hallway dotted here and there with doorless offices. His feet carried him to the right place, luckily, because his head was busy working on other things.

He stopped in front of a small office, occupied by one person who was leaning over his desk, his face about three inches from his computer screen.

"You know, that's not good for your eyes," Mokuba said, leaning against the door frame. The guy jumped out of his skin and swivelled around in his chair.

"Jee-zus, Mokuba, you scared the shit out of me," the man said.

The man's name was Kevin and he had been working for the company ever since Mokuba could remember. He hadn't advanced very much, but was very good at handling finances. And he was a great hacker.

Mokuba leaned out of the office, peering on either side to make sure they were alone. Then he entered the small office a little more.

"I need to you to hack into the main frame," Mokuba whispered. "I want to get a band signed on, and I know you know the proper procedures."

"Yeah, but you still need a hard copy, reviewed and signed by your brother," Kevin said.

"That's not a problem," Mokuba said with an devious sparkle in his eye. "Just get them in the computer and I'll handle the rest."

Mokuba would have done it himself, but they had to be quick, or else Seto would get a warning that someone was tampering with internal information. Once the band was signed on and in the computer, it would be very difficult to get them out again, and everyone would think Seto was a lunatic, signing on a band and then cutting them off within the hour.

The next thing Mokuba needed to do was get the paperwork. That was no trouble, he was well known and often got things for his brother. He walked up to another one of the offices on the same floor, this one bigger, with a layout similar to that of the receptionist's office, but it didn't have any windows. There was a young man and a old woman sitting behind the desk, the man was currently helping someone else, so Mokuba walked up to the woman.

"Hi there, sweetie, what can I do for you?" The gray-haired woman asked.

"I need Form Number 25001, please," Mokuba asked in the most polite voice he could make.

"Oh? Are we getting a new band? That's strange, usually Mr. Kaiba phones ahead when he sends people to get things," she said. But she did nothing to confirm that what Mokuba was telling the truth, and instead pulled open a filing cabinet and thumbed through the papers until she found the one she was looking for.

"Here you go," she said, handing them to Mokuba.

"Thanks," he said. He frowned when he walked away though, he would need to find a place that wasn't observed by security cameras. That meant one place: the bathrooms. Mokuba didn't like the idea of filling out a form sitting on a toilet, but there was no where else to go.

The bathrooms smelled faintly of cleanser and toilet water, and were completely deserted. Mokuba turned around and locked the door, before smiling and walking toward a small couch. At least he wouldn't have to sit on a toilet like he had previously thought. Other than the couch in a small entrance room with a full-sized mirror on the wall, the bathrooms looked like normal, everyday public bathrooms. Not that the couch was the epitome of luxury, it was stiff and forced Mokuba to sit up perfectly straight, but at that moment he didn't care, he had to finish the forms and turn them in.

Mokuba rushed through the form, knowing exactly what was on it from the other times when he had read them in the elevator to Seto's office. Like his brother, he had a photographic memory, so nothing surprised him on it. He initialed here, signed Seto's name there, put in the band's information he got from the CD, and when he was done with it, he flipped back to the front and reviewed it to make sure he had gotten all the letters right. He had been able to forge Seto's signature for a long time, though before today, he had never needed it. He was pleased that the signatures would look exactly the same to anyone besides his brother, who would probably blow up when he saw the forms. But Mokuba had done it, and all he needed to do was turn it in and he would get his band.

Mokuba rushed through the winding hallways to the other side of the building where he would get the company to send a letter or an email to the band, telling them they had been accepted. Then would come the negotiations, but Mokuba was confident that by that time he could persuade Seto to keep them.

He reached the desk where a pleasant-faced young woman sat and slowed to a normal walking pace.

"Could you send this band an email, telling them that they've been accepted?" Mokuba asked.

"May I get the forms?" She replied. Mokuba handed them over and she looked thoroughly through them. When she reached the end, she closed the packet and set it on the desk.

"I'll send them an email right now," she said. Mokuba let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and nodded gratefully.

Mokuba had gotten all the way outside when he remembered that he had told the chauffeur he would get a ride back home from Seto. Mokuba didn't feel like confronting his brother just yet, he hadn't gotten a plan of action formulated, but it was either go back and fiddle around in Seto's office, or sit out on the curb. He could've gone and called the chauffeur from one of the company's phones, but he sighed and decided to get the inevitable over with as soon as possible. No doubt Seto had already gotten a confirmation email that the band he had just "signed" was being contacted.

Mokuba walked back into the dull office building and dragged his feet all the way to the elevator. All too soon, he was watching the elevator doors open up to the bright assistant's office and walking to the front doors of Seto's office. Michelle looked up at him, smiling, but Mokuba ignored her. He took a deep breath and placed both of his hands on either side of the door, pausing to collect himself. When he was ready he pushed them opened and walked in with his head hung. He gathered as much courage as he could find and stared up straight into his brother's eyes.

Seto was leaning on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. His face was the manifestation of annoyance.

"Did you really think you get away with that?" Seto said quietly. His kind of anger was silent and steaming, and sometimes it scared Mokuba.

"I knew you'd figure it out," Mokuba said with a little shrug. "I just thought I would have a little more time."

Seto was silently glaring at Mokuba. He pushed himself off of his desk and walked around it. "Lucky for you, I don't have the time to contact the band again and tell them it was just a mistake. But," Seto said when Mokuba thought he was going to get out of it without too many bruises, "no music for a week."

"Aw, Seto..."Mokuba whined.

Seto held up his palm and Mokuba stopped. "Give me your iPod," Seto commanded. Mokuba did it, completely against his will. If he had control over his body, he probably would've made a run for it and walked home, even though that would be a really long walk. At least he would have his music.

With the iPod in hand, Seto sat down in his chair and picked up the phone. "You've caused enough trouble for me today, I'm calling for a cab."

Mokuba sighed and slouched. At least he gotten away with it relatively easy, it almost sounded like Seto was willing to keep the band on. But no music for a week? Mokuba had just found a new band, and was planning on listening to their CD for a whole straight month, but now that would have to wait.

When Seto hung up the phone, and didn't say anything, Mokuba assumed that he was dismissed and left. The sky outside reflected Mokuba's mood, but then again, it was always a sickly green overcast. Mokuba waited underneath a tall palm tree that decorated the front of the building. Everything seemed to take ten times longer when he wasn't occupied with music, and he was relieved when he saw the yellow taxi pull up in front of him. He opened the door for himself and told the driver where to go.

The taxi driver kept trying to talk to Mokuba, but when Mokuba stopped replying, the driver ceased. They were silently maneuvering the back streets of LA, because anytime in LA is traffic time, and yet again, the ride seemed to take forever. Normally, Mokuba would have his iPod on, gazing out into the street, but now he had slouched on the seat so far his knees were bent in a ninety degree angle. He stared blankly at the driver's license, memorizing the registration number for lack of anything better to do.

The car slowed as they got up into the hills, taking the twists and turns easily and eventually turning into the Kaiba's personal driveway. The gravel crackled underneath the tires and Mokuba raised his head to look out at the willow trees that lined the road. The willows on the grounds always looked like demented mental institution patients, with their scrawny trunks and wispy branches that looked like greasy hair. Mokuba shifted his gaze back inside the car and sat up straight, taking his wallet out of his back pocket, ready to pay the cab driver.

When the car pulled up to the front of the LA version of a modest five bedroom house, Mokuba got out of the car and paid the dumpy little man sitting in the driver's seat, then walked up to the front door and pulled out his key.

Mokuba took off his jacket and hung it on the rack, slipping his black and white checkered Vans off while walking into the living room. Seto hated it when he left his shoes out in the middle of the hallway, but all Mokuba wanted to do was sit on his ass and play video games, which he did most thoroughly.

The older Kaiba didn't usually get home until the sun had already set, and today was no exception. Seto walked into the house and placed his briefcase on the bench in the foyer. He sighed as he straightened up and looked into the mirror above the coat rack. The bags underneath his eyes were getting bigger, he really needed a break. But he wouldn't take one, not until he died. And this whole mess with Mokuba and the new band was adding on to his stress. He honestly didn't have enough energy to fight with it, so Seto had allowed the band to stay on. It seemed to make Mokuba happy, anyway.

Seto walked down the halls of the house, peering into each room he passed. At the end of the hallway, Seto opened the doors to the dinning room. Sitting at the end of the long, dark wood table was Mokuba, with an almost Seto-like smirk.

"You're home early," he said. Seto walked into the room and stood leaning over the chair at the end closest to him.

"No thanks to you," Seto replied. "But..." Mokuba's ears perked up. "I've decided to keep them on..."

Mokuba stood up and smiled, not waiting for the rest of what Seto was going to say. "Thanks! I knew you would like them, they're totally awesome, right?"

Seto took a small breath. "Well, actually, you took the demo, remember? So I'm basing my judgement on your opinion solely. You've been around this business for a long time, and you're getting old enough to make informed decisions, so I think I can take a chance. But, you didn't let me finish. I've only signed them on a provisional basis, I want to see what they can do in a professional setting."

"So, does that mean they'll be making a CD, or what?" Mokuba asked.

"We'll record a couple of songs, and if they're good, then we can think about making an album," Seto replied. Mokuba was almost jumping out of his skin.

"So when do we...uh, you," Mokuba added when he saw the look Seto gave him, "get to meet the band?"

"They should reply within the next few days, if anyone checks their email."

"Does this mean I can have my iPod back?"

"No." Seto said with a smirk and left the room.

A/N: Chapter one, fin. Good idea? As always, please review.