When Kaiba arrived home, he went to his room to change out of his suit. He was just removing his tie when he heard a cell phone ringing, but it wasn't his. He found it in the bathroom on the sink. It was Ryou's, and he picked it up to see who was calling.
Damn Bastard Zurg.
Kaiba chuckled to himself as he declined the call and took the phone back to their room to set it beside his. Ryou had set the last name of his father's contact with a Z so that it was at the bottom of his list. Out of sight, out of mind. Then he took it one step further and named it "Zurg," which was a villain in some movie that Kaiba'd never seen.
After changing his clothes, he asked a servant where his guests were: Odion was resting; Ryou, Marik, Ishizu, and Duke were watching a movie; Mokuba, Amane, and Ryou's mother were in the kitchen decorating cookies. He turned towards the game room first.
"Hi Seto!" Ryou greeted, the first to notice the brunette enter. Seto waved a hand in acknowledgement as the others greeted him too, approaching the back of the couch and leaning down next to Ryou.
"You-know-who called," he murmured as he passed Ryou his cell, the Brit's expression darkening at the news.
"You didn't talk to him did you?" Ryou asked in a low voice, not wanting to disrupt the others, although it was hard for them to pretend they weren't curious.
"No. There's no point."
Ryou nodded, pocketing his phone then reaching up again to hold Seto's hand across the back of the couch.
"Who called?" Marik was only asking what everyone else in the room wanted to know. Duke had a pretty decent guess, but the Ishtars were clueless.
"My dad," Ryou sighed, and Marik understood immediately. He'd been there with the group in Egypt when they'd run into Ryou's long-absent father. "I keep telling him to leave me alone," Ryou explained. "And he will for a while, but after several months or so he starts to feel guilty again and will try to call me."
"If you don't mind my asking, why don't you want to make amends with your father?" Ishizu asked after a slight hesitation. She knew it wasn't her place to ask, but she was puzzled. If she had the chance to have a fresh start with her father, she would take it.
"Because..." Ryou faltered, and Seto squeezed his hand. He shook his head and finished, "Because I've closed the door on that part of my life. For me, it's in the past, it's over. I've moved on and I just want him to let it be."
"He doesn't know about Amane and your mom, does he?" This notion hadn't occurred to Marik before.
"No, and I plan on keeping it that way." Ryou's eyes hardened with determination. "I don't tell him about them, and I don't talk to them about him. So long as I keep them separate, everyone's happy."
"Except your dad," Duke called out from where he was sleepily draped across the divan with one leg hooked over the back, one arm hanging down so that is hand rested on the floor, his other arm extended straight behind his head, and a throw pillow covering his face.
"I'm sure he's happy enough with his new family," Ryou snapped irritably. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try to calm himself. He hadn't wanted his father to invade their holiday, but now that he had, Ryou already felt like he'd spoiled the mood. Seto's thumb was brushing over the back of Ryou's knuckles in a comforting gesture, but it was Marik's hand on his knee that made him open his eyes.
"We won't mention him to them, don't worry," he said, speaking for his sister who was smiling at Ryou gently, the movie long forgotten.
"Father's are hard. We can respect your decision."
"Thanks." Ryou was relieved by his friends' kind expressions. They understood, and that was enough for him.
"So what's wrong with you?" Kaiba'd released Ryou's hand and was now approaching Duke.
"I hate retail," Duke grumbled, voice obscured by the pillow that Kaiba neatly plucked off his face and dropped on the floor. Kaiba rested one elbow on the thick arm-/head-rest and propped up his chin, laying the other fore-arm along the edge just behind Duke's head. "After our expansion project last winter, it's still hard to manage it at this size, and I can't be called out of my office every ten minutes because I have to manage the international distribution and promotion of Dungeon Dice Monsters."
"You're trying to run a medium-sized business like a small business, and it isn't working. You've outgrown The Black Clown; what you need to do now is rent an office space, hire a team of corporate administrators who can help you with your current work-load and enable you to take on more. You need to draw up plans to make The Black Clown into a chain store, set up a franchise, scout real estate in other cities for a new location, and put together a presentation for you to show potential investors. Your company will grow exponentially from that point forward, but you have to give it room to grow."
Duke grumbled something unintelligible, then hooked his hand behind Kaiba's head and pulled him down into a grateful kiss.
"Now give me my pillow back, I have a headache."
"So what kind of things has he taught you so far?" Amane asked her co-brother-in-law as she carefully frosted the wings of a sugar cookie angel.
"Lesson eight was to always carry a knife," Mokuba answered with a furrowed brow, making Amane and her mother laugh a little. "I don't know what that has to do with business."
"What else?"
"Hm." Mokuba was focused on making his gingerbread man smile with his small tube of red icing. "Lesson three was about courtesy, so I had to read books on deportment and manners, including one by George Washington."
"And what is the great George Washington's advice on being polite?"
"He said that it's rude to whisper to one person while in the company of others," Mokuba answered immediately. That one had stuck out in his mind, so it was easy to recall. "And apparently I need to learn, like, ten languages." He paused in his decorating to push his bangs out of his eyes. Sometimes he wished that he'd left his hair longer, because when it was long, it was easier to tie back. Now that it was above his shoulders, it was harder to secure it back. "He's making me learn French first because of the party he and I have to go to this week."
"A party?"
"Not the fun kind of party," Mokuba said, wrinkling his nose in a funny expression that made Amane giggle. "The kind with boring adults who stand around looking rich and important."
"Oh yes, we rich, important adults are so very boring," Seto said dryly as he entered the kitchen, making Mokuba wince in embarrassment. Amane started to laugh hard enough that she turned away from the cookies.
"Well, I wasn't talking about you." Mokuba quickly tried to redeem himself, but he knew it was too late.
"That's alright, I know what you mean."
Seto gave him a soft smile and tousled his brother's hair before resting one hand on the edge of the chrome counter where the three of them were sitting on stools with their trays of cookies spread out before them. Kaiba stood behind his brother and a little to the side, close enough that Mokuba could feel his warmth at his back.
"This seems like a lot of cookies. Do you really think we're going to eat all of these?" There were easily six dozen cookies spread out on their cooling racks.
"I was thinking that we could take some to Yugi and Joey and the others," Mokuba answered, resisting the strong urge to lick the blue and green icing from his fingers. Ms. Bell had taught him, as soon as they started cooking, that you have to keep washing your hands when you cook, and if you lick your fingers, you have to wash them again. Mokuba quickly realized that it was more convenient to just not lick his fingers.
Ms. Bell. When Amane and her mother had been released from witness protection, they'd taken back their real names and identities. Mrs. Bakura's marriage, however, had for all intents and purposes been dissolved by her feigned death. So, when her daughter had become "Amane Bakura" once more, she'd taken back her maiden name to become Ms. Bell. Ms. Holly Bell. It was a lovely name, though it had made Kaiba curious. After a bit of research, he was able to put the pieces together quite easily: Mr. Bakura had been born and raised in Japan, then gone to London for university. There he met Holly, whom he later married. They lived there together for several years until Holly and Amane "died," after which Ryou's father took his son back to his home country. Less than a year later, Ryou received the Millennium Ring, and the rest was history.
Only Amane really knew what had happened to Holly during the years between then and now, and the more time Kaiba spent with Ryou's family, the more questions he had about them, especially his mother. Holly was quiet to the point of being reserved, but it wasn't for a lack of feeling. Ryou'd inherited his mother's empathy, that much was clear. To Kaiba, she seemed like a woman who'd suffered a weary life. Losing your husband and son as a young wife, then having to raise a young daughter alone while she feared for her life must have been difficult. Working so hard must have worn her out.
The separation from her husband hadn't been their choice; they'd still been in love when they last saw each other, so she must have suffered a decent amount of heart ache too. If she were anywhere near as sensitive as her son, those factors combined would be enough to wear her out. She seemed comfortable with Mokuba, though, which made Kaiba glad. Mokuba hadn't lost any of his cheerful charms as he grew up, so his sunny personality would do her good.
"You'll have to define what you mean by 'some of the others,'" Kaiba prompted as he snuck a plain sugar cookie from the tray.
Mokuba began to name them, counting them off on his fingers: "Yugi, Tea, Tristan, Joey and Serenity, and... I think that's it?"
"You don't sound certain."
"I think Rebecca and Professor Hawkins are in America right now, otherwise we'd bring cookies to them too."
"Is Rebecca your girlfriend?" Amane asked in a teasing tone, making Mokuba immediately blush in embarrassment.
"Pfft, no way! Besides, she has a crush on Yugi."
"Too bad for her that she's half his age," Kaiba scoffed with an eyeroll. Even so, they'd been nearly the same height back when he was sixteen.
"And Yugi's dating Tea," Mokuba reminded him, forgetting that his brother was entirely indifferent to that fact.
"When did you plan on delivering them?"
"Either tomorrow or the day after."
"The day after is when we have that boring holiday party, though."
"We could do it in the morning, before our flight."
"If you're quick about it, sure."
Mokuba pressed a pair of gum drops onto the dots of icing he'd placed on his gingerbread man's body and thoughtfully glanced over at his brother's hand clasping the counter's edge. There were questions that Mokuba would never ask his brother, and there were things that Mokuba would never know about Seto, but as he matured and learned more, Mokuba had been putting together the pieces that allowed him to know his brother better.
Learning from him did much to strengthen their bond. While they loved each other unconditionally, their communication skills had always been lacking. Seto's lessons let Mokuba see the world through his brother's eyes, and it was quite a different world from the one he knew.
When Mokuba looked at Seto's hand now, he remembered once seeing it glisten with blood and broken glass.
Now that he was older, he understood what that kind of behavior—punching mirrors and walls in fits of temper until he'd bloodied his hands—meant about Seto himself. His suspicions were confirmed whenever Seto rolled back his sleeves before writing on the whiteboard in his office for their lessons.
Mokuba understood that his brother had once struggled with self-harm, though he would never dare to say that out loud.
He placed his smaller hand on his brother's, covering the tiny white lines on his knuckles that were nearly invisible to the naked eye. The cuts had healed so well that unless you knew to look for signs of past damage, you'd miss the faint scars entirely.
Seto looked down at his brother, surprised by the touch, and they shared a small smile before Seto bent down to plant a small kiss atop the unruly nest of raven-colored hair.
A brother is a good thing.