Disclaimer: Nope. I still don't own Yu-gi-oh.
I hope you guys enjoy this piece. This is a completely impulsive piece, so I'm a bit nervous about this one. If you want, you can see it as a sequel of sorts to Foreigner, though you don't need to know anything about it to read the story.
Here I am, seated behind my desk as my assistant reports the latest news behind the arms deal that KaibaCorp is about to close. I quietly listen as he reads a plethora of facts from his files, speaking unsteadily. His voice quickens as I give an annoyed glance as he speaks of a necessary compromise. After a few moments, I flick my hand to dismiss the man. He quickly scurries away, closing the door silently as he leaves.
Compromise. I never liked that word. It's a necessary part of the business world, so I accept it and move on.
But I hate it.
I get up from my black leather chair and stare past the window, gazing at the people of Domino City as they scurry like ants. They look small and meaningless, as they are, trying to find some sort of meaning to their feeble lives. It almost makes me want to chuckle. Most of them will never be able to think for themselves, let alone become anyone important. They dream of the fortunes that I hold and the lifestyle that I live.
And here's the pathetic part. I'm their god.
They're fools. Easily tricked. If the media hears some sob story or a wonderful donation to some well-known charity, the commoners will worship you. In front of their television, which I fondly call the "idiot box," they hear me at a press conference and are amazed by my eloquent speech. My performance.
It's okay. The world needs losers like the public. If not, who'd be my employees?
I laugh. Sometimes, I can't help but amuse myself.
How did I get here, you ask. How did I make something of myself?
By not believing the bullshit about love.
In this world, it's about survival of the strong, not anything else. From a young age, I was forced to learn that. I was the son of a poor woman from Inagi. Her name was Akane Kaiba. When she was a teenager, she met a rich and charming man, who seduced her. The product of their many passionate affairs is me.
The man never saw my mother as anything more than another play thing, but she became attached. When she told him of her pregnancy, he fled, denying any relationship with her. When her parents learned of her disgrace, they forced her out of her home. She had a baby out of wedlock, so she had no purity as virgin and was a whore. This was their truth.
How do I know all this? She kept telling me this story, almost every night.
For countless nights, I remember on how she cried after she came from work. She worked as a waitress at a local gentlemen's club, though I suspect that she might have sold herself a few times too. She constantly cried about the lover that abandoned her, how she was useless, and, most of all, she cried about I had broken her. On several occasions, I was told that it would have been better if I had never been born.
You see, from a young age, I've never brought happiness. Since the day that I was conceived, I broke people.
As she continuously wailed, day in, day out, I started to hate her. As she cried about how much I looked like my father, I found myself to be repulsed by her quivering mouth, the snot that dribbled from her nose, or the loud wails that she gave as she seated herself on the dingy sofa. Her constant break-downs irritated to the highest degree, so I decided that I would never lose such control or power over my life. Unlike her, I was not going to be a loser.
Therefore, I took the academic route. I gained high scores in school, impressing my teachers and students alike. Quickly I realized that people could be manipulated, similar to puppets. They could easily be influenced if you pulled the right strings. A teacher was easily flattered if when I told them complimentary words and gave that model student's smile. They easily bought the bullshit that I fed. No one suspected that my home life was horrible. No one suspected that their perfect student was the bastard son of an unknown father and a pathetic sniveling woman.
Of course, I needed some form of income for the excellent schools and my future, so I got involved with drugs as well. Formally, I tell the world that I gained knowledge from my business school at Harvard, but my true education on ruthlessness came from selling heroine to drug-addicted morons that came begging for more. At first, the sight of a woman who was willing to prostitute herself for the white powder shocked me, but, after a period of time, it became my norm. I told myself that they were losers. Because they were, I learned to not care.
No. No soul knows about this story. Not even my wife. She passed away, thinking that I was some sort of middle class man who rose to the top.
Not that I'm the product of a whore.
Recently, there are two new developments in my life.
I adopted a pair of boys from the local orphanage where I donate money for good press. The elder one is ten, while the younger one is four. The older boy's name is Seto; it's his fault that I'm in this position. I never wanted either of them, but, due to an unfortunate occurrence, I have adopted those brats. I must have been careless. The elder shrimp had the audacity to challenge me to a chess game, claiming that he would tell reporters if I refused. The deal was that I would adopt him and his brother if he won the game.
I don't know why I seated myself across him in that flimsy chair, but something in me wanted to see that boy's spirit falter when I won the game. I took his damn bait.
I smirked as I stared at the brunette with the almond-shaped blue eyes. His weak-looking brother, with his long black mane and similarly shaped blue-gray orbs, followed him, looking pathetic as he stood by his chair. Then, as he moved his chess pieces across a shabby checkered board, he managed to do the impossible.
He won.
I still don't understand how a ten-year-old beat me, the world chess champion. It's impossible, I tell you. He must have cheated! There's no other explanation!!
When I brought them to my estate, I came upon a decision. As the maids prepared the children's wing, I felt the strongest compulsion to let him, the scrawny genius, know who was in control. He may have won one game against me, but he will never be superior to me. Never.
It's not something that I choose.
I can't help but break people. That's what I'm best at.
Gozaburo Kaiba was extremely strange to write. I'm not a dark person, so it was interesting to write from such a malicious and fanatical man's perspective. Hopefully, I treated his character with justice. I didn't include anything about Noah because I personally believe that arc was one of the stupidest fillers ever, and I don't believe that it was part of the original manga. Correct me if I'm wrong.
I'm always curious to know your reactions. Should I burn this crap? Is this crap? Reviews are appreciated.