Chapter Eight
The Best Laid Plans Are Probably Too Complicated
Monday: -3 Days
"Look, if you're not going to pay attention, just say so so that I can stop wasting my time," Kaiba snapped.
"I was listening," Yami said evenly, pulling his eyes away from a gap in the closed blinds—though Kaiba was heliotolerant, the weather was clear and it was the height of the afternoon, making direct sunlight too dangerous for anyone but the Pharaoh himself. He was currently dealing with a not-unfamiliar reversal of role, seated across the desk from the man in power here. Of course, the Pharaoh didn't have an office; there were the Court chambers underground in the UN building, and then there was the private library in his house where he held most meetings. Kaiba's offices were identical in every KaibaCorp location, from HQ in Domino City to this branch office in New York. They were each the very antithesis of Yami's library, with huge sheet windows and white paint in lieu of dark panelling and stained glass, chrome-and-glass cases of disks, drives, and awards replacing the heavy wooden shelves of books, a contemporary glass desk and state-of-the-art supercomputer standing where the Pharaoh had his antique mahogany desk and glorified word processor of a laptop. "Your heir wishes to become your childe. You are unwilling to Sire him. Understandable. What precise relation to you is Mokuba?"
"Brother."
Yami's brow furrowed. "Yet he is only a boy of thirteen. You were Turned at the age of eighteen some sixty years past."
"Yeah. He just recovered from SWS a couple years ago."
The Pharaoh looked blank.
"Snow White Syndrome," Kaiba elaborated. "The Long Sleep?"
"Ah, is that what we're calling it now?"
"Technically it's called cardiopulmonary arrest of a vampire, but SWS is shorter," Kaiba shrugged.
Yami crossed his arms. "Precisely. The Long Sleep only affects vampires, Kaiba."
"No, really?" Kaiba snorted.
"I mean," the Pharaoh said, looking slightly annoyed, "that I don't understand what you want from me. If Mokuba has endured the Long Sleep, he must be a vampire. But if he were a vampire, you would hardly need to consult me on whether or not he should be Turned, would you? So either you're asking me about Turning a vampire—which is impossible—or you are claiming that a human has been trapped in the Long Sleep for sixty years—which is likewise impossible."
Kaiba sighed, looking away. "Look…Noah wasn't my stepfather's only experiment."
"Noah…Gozaburo's biological son. I recall his experimentation with vampire reproduction, back in the 1950's when KaibaCorp first began experimenting with bioweapons," Yami said thoughtfully, tilting his head in reflection. "With that many pioneering geneticists on the payroll, I suppose he couldn't resist trying to produce a childe who was also his own flesh and blood. It was arrogant of him, but unfortunately, not illegal at the time. He was quite furious when I barred him from formally presenting his findings in Court. Noah was extremely sickly; it's likely he would have died of natural causes within a year or two anyway."
"Not that Gozaburo would believe that. He tried to Sire Mokuba by using Noah's blood as the catalytic component." There was barely controlled fury in Kaiba's voice. "Thought it would change his blood into the same hybridised kind that Noah had, the way vampire blood does. Didn't matter to him if it didn't work; he could always just Sire me the old fashioned way later—which is exactly what he did, because, big surprise, it didn't." Kaiba's jaw tightened. "Five months later, my little brother was in a coma. Bastard took my entire family in one swoop."
"Noah's death was an accident," Yami said carefully.
"Yeah. A twelve-year-old genius just happened to be standing in the middle of the road and gets hit by a car. In front of my stepfather. Who somehow, despite being a vampire, couldn't move fast enough to save him. Totally an accident." Kaiba crossed his arms and fixed his see-through desk with a stony blue glare.
"Just as your stepfather's death was accidental," the Pharaoh agreed lightly, raising an eyebrow.
Kaiba smirked. "Best damn accident I'd ever seen. The sword was a nice touch."
"I thought you'd enjoy that. It's not my preferred modus operandi for such people; far too quick and clean. But then, accidents will happen as they will…and as it was your arm which lowered the blade Gozaburo's neck was so tragically positioned beneath, I'm certain you're aware of that."
"Heh." Then Kaiba was sombre again. "Mokuba woke up about two years ago. He hasn't been doing great; I've tried to keep it quiet that he was back while he adjusted to being back in the world after six decades. But now he's awake, fully human, and he wants to be Turned—wants me to Sire him."
"From experience, I can say that the pain of Turning is nothing compared to the void of the Long Sleep. He has already undergone the second most traumatic experience that any vampire can." Yami tilted his head inquisitively. "Understand, this is not without precedence—Lord von Schroeder's brother was also turned at a relatively young age, I understand."
"Oh, please. Yeah, sure, let's talk about that worthless piece of—hey, did you hear he highlights his hair pink? I mean, he's older than I am and—"
"What I mean is," the Pharaoh interrupted, "why would Mokuba wish to open himself to the possibility of suffering such a fate once more?"
"That's personal."
"If you did not wish to discuss the matter, why did you ask me here?" queried Yami, slightly testily. Ordinarily, he would be more than willing to just talk to anyone, even Kaiba—who reminded him more and more of the first Seto with each passing day, lately—especially as it meant that he wasn't doing paperwork. Yami hated paperwork. "I am on something of a deadline." An understatement!
"Please. It wouldn't be the first time you came to a Court meeting with nothing to show but red tape," Kaiba snorted.
"These particular affairs are quite critical, I assure you."
"Fine. I just wanted dispensation to Sire a minor."
Yami paused. "You do wish Mokuba to be Turned?"
"Not really. Let's just say he makes a compelling case." Kaiba looked pained, but his scarlet gaze hardened into a fierce stare as he met the Pharaoh's slightly darker eyes. "So?"
Yami chose his next words carefully. "You ask a weighty thing of me. I must know why you wish him Turned if I am to allow it to be so."
"Oh, I don't just want you to allow it. I want you to do it. Your laws, remember? Vampires Turned over fifty years ago can Sire adults, but I have to be over one-fifty to Sire anyone under the age of eighteen, and I'd still need permission from you." Kaiba crossed his arms. "Look, besides me, there's two people I trust in this world: Mokuba, and you, and Mokuba sure as hell can't Sire himself. That leaves you. Unless you want to make a special exception and let me do it."
Yami immediately shook his head at that suggestion. "The risk is too great. The extent to which you would need to drain him could completely override your conscious inhibitions." He weighed the risk in his mind; true, the bloodfreeze made him more likely to lose control at a critical juncture, but if he fed shortly before it should assuage the symptoms… "Then I certainly must know your reasons. If I am to turn him—"
"Not his reasons. Mine."
Kaiba looked up, startled, and Yami followed his gaze. So intent had they been on their conversation that neither had noticed the office door open, and a young teenaged boy with long black hair now stood in the doorway. The Pharaoh heard the sure, steady beat of the human's heart and braced himself against the incoming bloodlust.
It never came. Yami frowned. He'd have to ask Ishizu about that. She'd mentioned something about him probably having 'good days' later on, in which he'd be able to function more normally…perhaps this was one of them?
"Mokuba! You should be—"
"Resting, gotcha." Mokuba smiled cheekily. "Chill out, big brother. I'm fine." He closed the door behind him and came further into the room. "Hey, I'm Mokuba Kaiba." He held out a hand to Yami. "Nice to meet you, Pharaoh."
"Likewise."
Kaiba watched the pair like a hawk as Yami enquired after Mokuba's recovery, and Mokuba gave even, honest replies. It did not escape his notice that the Pharaoh persisted in meeting Mokuba's eyes regardless of the questions or answers at hand, nor that his hand never left the Millennium Puzzle around his neck.
Fairy tales. He knew the lore, of course—the seven Millennium Items, each with their own powers and abilities. The Puzzle's was the power of unity—whatever that meant. Its primary function, however, like all of the Items, was the amplification of a person's existing supply of Shadow Magic.
Kaiba preferred not to think about the existence of magic.
At length, "Why do you want this so much?" asked Yami.
Mokuba was quiet. "Do you know what it's like, sir, in the Sleep?"
As ever, Yami's ruby gaze was steady. "Tell me," he said, his deep voice soft and patient.
"It's so quiet. There's no sound, no light, no air. You can't breathe, can't move, can't see, can't speak. You don't feel time passing. You don't feel anything. There is no time. Every second is forever and it never ends." Mokuba's voice was lifeless, without inflection or emotion. His slate blue eyes were empty, empty as the void of which he spoke. "What's it called when you're nothing? When you've stopped being anything—stopped being?"
"Death," the Pharaoh murmured, the horror of sheer nothingness reflected in his eyes, every bit as lost in memories as Mokuba. "An unending death."
"Death's usually unending," Kaiba pointed out.
"I refuse to believe that. I cannot. Death, true death, must give way to life, or what is there?"
"Nothing," Mokuba answered. "And if Seto's right…if that's all there is…I never want it to happen." He shook his head violently. "Not for as long as possible."
Carefully, Yami said, "I cannot in good conscience recommend siring you at such a young age. You will come to regret not being physically adult, in time. Vampiric regeneration will mimic the effects of skeletal fusion and muscular development, and your neural pathways will forge themselves as normal, but you will not age. To those unaware of your race you will be merely a child, and even fellow vampires will treat you as a youth at first. They will learn, and swiftly; you would not be the first Child of the Night to truly be a child in the legal sense at Turning." He laughed softly. "Actually, one of my best-kept secrets is that I myself am only seventeen, physically. But there is quite a gap between thirteen and seventeen, appearance-wise, though less of one in other respects, which could complicate things greatly."
Mokuba blinked. "Like?"
Yami glanced meaningfully at Kaiba, who gave him a blank, uncomprehending look in return. The Pharaoh sighed in exasperated resignation and turned back to Mokuba. "Sex."
Kaiba promptly discovered it was in fact possible to choke on air.
"Breathe, Kaiba," Yami said, not turning away from the now-blushing younger Kaiba brother. "You cannot tell me that has not crossed your mind."
"Um, actually…"
The Pharaoh looked surprised. "Really?"
"Um, that's—that's really a sort of personal question?" Mokuba squeaked.
"I'm five thousand years old. I have no shame." Yami quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Mokuba mumbled out an affirmative, having turned an interesting colour between red and plum.
"Certainly, then, you're somewhat…distressed by the fact that any who took that particular sort of interest in you would be either other Nachtenkinder or, to be frank, paedophiles?"
"Knock ten what?"
"Nachtenkinder," Kaiba corrected, glaring at the Pharaoh. "It just means Night Children; Nights Children, plural, actually, but whatever. It's always used in the literal sense of children—children, kids, minors, not just offspring or scions, like vampires are Children of the Night. There were a lot of German stories, pre- and post-Brothers Grimm, that centred around stolen children—fairies who took babies from their cribs and replaced them with changelings, monsters who ate the stupid ones who didn't listen when their parents told them to stay out of the woods at night, and inevitably stories of vampires who kidnapped young children and turned them because they didn't have any of their own. Which is why we say Nachtenkinder." He snorted. "It's antiquated and way too formal, but welcome to vampire society."
Yami raised an eyebrow. "Ancient Egyptian history is a collection of unbelievable stories not worth the bother of studying, yet German legends—actual fairy tales, just as you so derogatorily term your own origins—are seemingly an area of expertise for you. Curious."
Kaiba glared at him again. "That was subtle," he said, mimicking the Pharaoh's earlier tone of dry sarcasm near-perfectly.
"Likewise." Yami hesitated. "I must think on this—as must you, Mokuba. You may expect my decision before the next Court meeting this Thursday." Standing to leave, he met Kaiba's eyes. "You'll be there?"
"Isn't that my job?"
"Thank you, sir," Mokuba said quietly.
Something a little like sympathy flashed through the Pharaoh's eyes as he glanced at Kaiba's brother. "I can only hope that, no matter my decision, you'll still be willing to say that years from now."
He found himself smiling a little as he left the office, though, hearing Kaiba's quiet words to his brother.
"Like I said. Antiquated and way too formal."
"Seto, he can probably still hear you..."