No Better

Seto's jaw hit the ground seconds before the rest of his body. The impact sent his breath gushing out, and Seto gagged trying to regain it. He panted and pushed himself up to his elbows and knees. He managed to stay in that position for just a moment before a foot on his back shoved him down.

"Come on, Suck-o! Get up!"

Seto spit to rid his mouth of the coppery taste sticking to his teeth. He was beginning to grow accustomed to the flavor of his own blood. Seto took a deep, shaky breath and got to his feet. The group of bullies let him stand, only to shove him. Seto stumbled, but didn't fall.

Meeting his brother's gaze, Seto tried to keep the pain off his face. Mokuba's eyes were wide with worry. Seto admired how much effort Mokuba put into not crying. The grips the bullies had on his arms appeared painful. Two of them held onto Mokuba's arms, pinning them to his side. Mokuba's hands trembled.

A kid behind Seto kicked the back of his leg just below the knee. Seto felt his leg buckle, but still managed to keep his balance. Seto kept his fingers unclenched, worried that he might end up striking back in front of his brother.

"Say 'Uncle!'"

Seto snarled and kept his mouth closed. He then braced himself for the fist flying towards his face. The force slammed him into whichever boy was behind him. After a several months of living in the same home, Seto hadn't bothered to learn their names.

The boy caught Seto and twisted Seto's arms behind his back. Seto winced, but locked his gaze on the group of thugs' leader. The leader, a boy in his middle teens, stepped forward. He grabbed Seto's jaw and squeezed until his nails bit into Seto's skin. He tilted Seto's head down so that Seto's head only reached the height of the boy's neck.

"Still think you're above us, Suck-o? Hm?" The boy used his grip on Seto to shake his head side to side. "That's right. Say, 'No, I'm a pathetic orphan just like everyone else here.'"

The boy leaned in, lifting Seto's jaw slightly, until his nose brushed Seto's. His sticky breath felt like it beaded on Seto's skin. "You are no better than me. Knowing a couple big words won't get you adopted. Your attitude will only cause you problems."

With a few light slaps on Seto's cheek, he signaled for Seto to be released. Seto still stood trapped in the partial circle of boys, but he straightened his back, trying not to focus on his throbbing jaw. Seto set his mind on staying calm in front of Mokuba. He wouldn't break down with Mokuba as a witness.

"Say it. Admit that you aren't better than us."

Seto crossed his arms and lifted his chin. Doing so hurt, but Seto leveled his gaze on the other boy, choosing a silent defense.

But a violent motion caught his eye. Seto turned his head to see the two boys holding Mokuba give him a rough shake. Seto made it a step in that direction before an arm cut off his path.

"If hitting you doesn't work, I suppose we can try it with the kid instead."

Mokuba lost control of his tears then, which began to roll in streams down his face. "Seto," he pleaded in a quiet voice.

"See? Even Mokie wants you to admit it."

Seto's glared darkened at the use of his brother's nickname. He slowly faced the other boy. "No," Seto said evenly. "I'm not like you."

Seto prepared to jump in front of Mokuba before anyone hurt him, but stopped when he heard: "Boys!"

One of the home's staff members came running across the yard with a raised hand. For Mokuba's sake, Seto felt relief rush over him.

"Are you finished?" Seto asked the leader, just before the worker came into earshot.

The group of boys scattered, leaving Seto and Mokuba to face the staff worker. Mokuba ran to Seto and threw his arms around his brother's waist.

"It's okay, Mokie," Seto whispered. He shifted Mokuba to ease the pressure on his quickly forming bruises. "I wouldn't let them hurt you." Seto knelt down and caught Mokuba's eyes. "I will never let anyone hurt you."

The man stopped jogging when he reached Seto and Mokuba. "Are you boys all right?"

Mokuba was too shaken up to speak, so Seto answered for both of them. "We're fine. Just rough-housing." Seto said this with the understanding that in a few hours, it would be impossible to hide the evidence of the fight since it would be purple and yellow across his face. But for the moment, he wanted Mokuba in the safety of the house.

The man looked suspicious as Seto led Mokuba by him. Mokuba's little fingers held onto Seto's hand, and Mokuba's shoulder brushed Seto's arm as they walked. Seto tried to adjust his steps to compensate within his steps for Mokuba bumping into him. He hadn't realized it before, but when he was shoved down, he must have landed on the wrong side of his knee. If he wasn't careful, he would end up limping to the door.

Mokuba hadn't stopped crying when they approached the back entrance.

The man who ran the orphanage home stood by the door, along with several employees and a man Seto didn't recognize. Seto bowed his head as they slipped by, only glancing up just long enough to meet the stare of the stranger.

"And although we run one of the finest children's homes in the country, we still need the additional funding."

Gozaburo tuned out most of the tour. Before his arrival, he had already purposed to himself that he would not be giving any donation. Good publicity or not, he had better things to do with his time. Wandering through an orphanage did nothing to rouse his goodwill. He only planned the visit to excuse himself from having to fly over to Russia for a meeting. Had he expected the media to discover his excuse, he would have chosen something different. Once they began to report the story, he had no choice but to follow through.

"Due to our limited resources, we are only able to house young boys. We hope to expand into a second building in order to give a bed to all the orphaned girls in the city. Perhaps not even just this city."

Gozaburo was certain that he had been led in a circle, since the orphanage couldn't have two kitchens. Or if they did, the administrator lied about having a limited budget.

The kitchen had a row of bare windows facing the backyard. Gozaburo glanced out for lack of a more interesting focal point. What he saw came as a great interest.

"Is it a common practice of yours to allow fighting in the yard?"

The men leading the tour simultaneously turned to the windows. When they did, Gozaburo saw a boy in the center of a much larger group of boys take a solid punch to the face. Gasps spread through the kitchen when the boy stumbled back. Gozaburo's eyebrows raised when the boy didn't fall.

No one in the kitchen moved. The men were transfixed on the scene. Because of that, Gozaburo assumed that fights were uncommon.

"Is no one going to do anything?" Gozaburo asked. His question drew a response.

"Of course! Phil, run out there and stop that!" the administrator ordered. The man who must have been Phil sprinted to the nearest door.

"Mr. Kaiba, I hope you don't take this as a reflection of the whole."

Gozaburo followed Phil's path to the door and stepped outside. He watched the center boy plant his feet and face down his attacker. There was no sign in his posture that the boy feared the group surrounding him. The only moment in which the showed traces of panic came when two of the older boys shook the tiny child they had restrained.

The group of boys dispersed when they saw Phil. Gozaburo watch the little boy run to the older. The sentimentality almost made Gozaburo lose interest, but his amazement at the other boy held his gaze. The boy kept calm and spoke evenly to the little boy Gozaburo assumed was his brother.

Gozaburo guessed that the older boy was probably ten or eleven. For being so young, the boy showed incredible self-control. Any other child would have fought back or given in. The boy might not have come out on top of that encounter, but he certainly did not lose any ground with the bullies.

"Mr. Kaiba, now that the situation has been settled, I would love to show you the library we are currently working on."

Gozaburo spared only a short glance at the administrator. Both boys were walking his direction, the little one clinging to the older. Gozaburo saw the slight unevenness of the older boy's steps. The fight must have been going on longer than they had witnessed. The boy was doing a remarkable job of hiding the limp. It only showed every few steps, when the little boy would tug or bump against his brother. Gozaburo hadn't been that impressed with anyone, let alone a child, in quite some time.

When the boy approached the door, he lowered his head. At first, Gozaburo thought it was because he was ashamed of what they had seen. But the boy glanced up, and his blue eyes met Gozaburo's, showing no signs of shame or remorse. His eyes were passionate and strong, even if they were surrounded by scrapes and a swelling chin. After the boy looked away, Gozaburo felt like their gazes never broke. He watched the boys enter the house, and continued staring at the door when they were gone.

"I've seen enough," Gozaburo said. He tore his gaze away from the imprinted image of the boy.

"And have you seen enough to offer your assistance?"

"I have. It appears there is something worthwhile here after all."