In considering what kind of person Kaiba seemed to be, it had always been rather funny to think about how long it generally took him to get dressed. The price of his vanity was often a whole hour at the beginning of the day, long enough for Mokuba to manage entire episodes of his shows before his brother emerged at last.
He made a ritual out of it, imposed this on himself with strict constancy in lieu of parental mandates that had been absent for years. Offbeat as the outfit he usually donned was, this was his uniform, and having a uniform had a certain air of habit to it.
He usually started in front of the mirror.
The huge mirror in Kaiba's private bathroom stood like a shrine in front of the marble basin, a giant oval mounted securely to the wall under a set of lights that never seemed to be turned on. He spent a great deal of time standing before it, often motionless, leaned slightly forward in the dim light with his hands locked to the edge of the countertop. God only knew what he was seeing there, but at times it pulled his face into such a bottomless scowl that beholding it alone might turn a person to stone. That said, perhaps vanity was an unfair assessment. Introspection was probably more like it.
Once he was done dismantling himself with his eyes, which could take any amount of time depending on the particulars of his thoughts, that was when he would finally get on with things. For the amount of time he took to get anywhere upon waking, his routine was actually surprisingly simple. He would splash some water on his face, brush his teeth, and change. He never stayed undressed for longer than he could help it, and never changed anywhere near that mirror. As soon as his pajama shirt came off, the turtleneck went on, and the same applied to pants, as well as the equally important locket that Mokuba had given him while he was… recovering. Morning showers had never been his thing as he preferred to take them before bed, which was certainly one less thing to bother about.
His next steps really depended on what he was doing on that day. If his business could be concluded with an internet connection and a laptop within the comfort of his own mansion, then that would be it, aside from the desk he would be chained to for a good portion of his waking hours. If, however, a public appearance was in order – which they were fairly often, as Seto Kaiba quite enjoyed putting himself in the public eye – that was when all bets were off. Those were the days when he woke up early.
Buckles were something he liked. The two around each arm and matching ones around his ankles were purely for the aesthetic. There was probably something metaphorical to be said about them as well, but that was an angle he would likely prefer not to explore. Whether or not he thought about it at all was a matter for debate. What was certain was that he adjusted them meticulously. Placement was very important.
The last item to require his attention was the coat, the most important part, like a signature carefully scrawled onto the bottom of a well-read document. It was custom made and surprisingly hard to find a tailor for. He had drawn up the design himself, with a conscious eye for impact. The shoulder pads were reminiscent of large pauldrons, and that, in combination with his metal bracers, made his inner nerd secretly very happy. White, red, black, silver. It was the armor he wore for the good of the public. The metal studs had been an afterthought, but now he was glad he had put them in. Edgy was the word that came to mind.
Edgy was his thing, and he very much liked it that way.