You Were Born

My first son was born in autumn, right in the middle of my work day. I was a high school math teacher, and my water broke in the middle of my precalculus class. Now, I'm sure my students were ecstatic when their math class was interrupted; however, it was not the most pleasant interruption in the book. Luckily, a few of my more responsible students ran out for help as I went to support myself against my desk, fumbling around for the worksheets I'd prepared for the day. A friend of mine, a teacher in the history department, chided me for working right up until past my due date, and joked about this particular situation happening. At the time, I'd rolled my eyes and told her that I'd be damned if she thought I was going to be one of those pregnant women who sat on their ass all day, eating candy and watching bad soap operas.

For some reason, when the time actually came, I thought that there might be something up with that whole laziness and chocolate thing.

Labor was long and winding, but the second the doctor placed my son's tiny body in my arms, I experienced a whole new level of love. We named him Seto. Seto didn't cry as much as I heard most babies did, and when we got him home, I bet he slept a hell of a lot better than other babies did, too. There were a few rough nights in there, with my husband and I being new parents and all, but for the most part, I knew for sure that we were blessed with an incredible son.

He grew to be a very soft-spoken, serious child. He preferred reading as opposed to playing outside with the other kids; however, he was never mean or rude to them about it. The little girl across the street used to barrel over and ask him to come out and play; sometimes he'd refuse politely, and other times he'd invite her inside, where I'd find the two of them all snuggled up together in the den or the living room, both of their little noses in whatever book Seto was reading to her. He started reading when he was three; that was when my husband and I realized that our son was going to be incredibly intelligent.

When he was five, I discovered I was pregnant again. The doctor warned me early on that this pregnancy had the very real potential for being high-risk due to complications left from my last child. As a precaution, I actually quit my job after things got very difficult around the sixth month. Even though my husband and I tried to stay as positive and happy as humanly possible for Seto's sake, he knew there was something to be anxious about. He started sleeping in our bed with us, and rarely left my side on the weekends. Whenever my husband tried taking him to the zoo, library, or anywhere outside of the home just to give his worried little mind a break, he would throw a fit and say that he needed to stay with me so that the baby and I would be okay.

I remember one night, when my husband was away on a business trip, Seto was curled up next to me. I thought he'd fallen asleep, so I pulled my book from the nightstand and started reading. A few moments later, he rolled onto his back and asked what he'd have to do as an older brother. I'd slowly reinserted the bookmark and looked down at him curiously.

"What do you mean by that?"

Seto sighed and moved closer so that his head rested on my ever expanding belly. "Dad said that being a big brother was going to be a big job, but that I could handle it." He tilted his head up to look at me with those big blue eyes he'd gotten from his grandmother. "But I don't know if I can handle it if I don't even know what I'm supposed to do." I reached my hand out and began stroking his dark hair.

"Being a big brother means that you love the new baby as much as you can for as long as you live. Everything else will stem from there, honey. I know you can handle love," I told him softly. His eyelids were slowly drooping, and I silently continued to stroke his hair until I could hear his soft, even breathing. I leaned over and carefully repositioned him so that he was lying beside me instead of on me. I grinned when he sprawled out on his back and mumbled something about how firetrucks are built, almost as though he was arguing with someone in his dream.

All I could think was that whoever that poor bastard was better watch out, because my kid was going to school him.

A few months later, I had my second child, Mokuba. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to even hold him, because the last thing I remember, everything was blurry, and I was looking at the baby the doctor was holding up when loud beeping rapidly increased in pace. Everything had grown dark, until I found myself in a bright, serene place, watching down on my family. Seto was protectively clutching his new baby brother, a chubby little cherubic being with a thick mess of wild black hair. My husband sat beside him, quietly reminding him to be gentle with the baby, but hugging our elder son just as tightly. Seto pressed his tear streaked face into his father's chest, and the last sob he'd cry for a very long time pierced the air around them.

I watched over all of them. Seto and Mokuba grew very close, and I was pleased to see that my baby was getting his big brother out in the sun some more. The two of them played outside, along with the little girl from across the street. My husband worked a lot, so the boys were either left with our neighbor or with my mother. I felt happy that they seemed to be healing so well, and getting back to their usual lives, despite the fact that I was gone.

Unfortunately, three years later, my husband died in a car accident, leaving our sons without any parents. I watched as they were sent to live with relatives, and I was appalled as I watched them eat up my children's inheritance, just to leave them at the orphanage. But once they were there, I was proud of Seto. He refused to leave his little brother's side, and they lived to play with each other every single day. That is, until Gozaburo Kaiba entered the picture, and adopted my kids.

I watched as the man broke Seto apart, piece by piece, putting him through hell. I watched as my once kind and quiet son was forced into becoming a monster. His heart grew cold and Mokuba was shut to the side. He said that it was for Mokuba's protection, but I could see that the detachment protected Seto as well. I knew he'd lost his heart, but I never believed that it wouldn't come back.

I was glad to see I was right.

I watched my boys go through so much while they were still so young, and it almost killed me again to not be able to step in and protect them. This is why we aren't really supposed to look down into the world of the living too often, but I couldn't help it. While seeing what they'd gone through broke my heart a million times over, the rush I got from just how powerful their love for each other was absolutely phenomenal.

I stopped watching for the most part, but I had one more wish: that Seto can open his heart even more. He's not the cruel, calculating boy he'd become for so long, but he's cold and lonely. He doesn't deserve that. He deserves love and friendship, everything at which he scorns. But my son is smart, and he will learn...

Inspired by the song by Cloud Cult. I know this isn't my greatest one-shot in the world, but this is what you get at four in the morning while procrastinating homework. I still thought it was kind of sweet, though, so there you go.