I latched onto "Bocchan" as a title primarily when I started watching Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler), although that might give the impression that I'm likening Akiko to a demonic butler. I'm not. Yet. I am, however, likening Mokuba to Ciel Phantomhive. At least in this story.

To those who don't know what the hell I'm talking about . . . well, one, you're missing out. Kuroshitsuji is a great series. Two, don't worry about it. Basically what I'm saying is I like Japanese titles, and since Seto has a special one (Niisama), I guess I wanted Mokuba to have one, too.

Leave it to Kiko to find one for him.


.


Akiko started calling the young Kaiba "Bocchan" on a whim, remembering something her mother once told her: rich families tended to be traditional families. Also, everyone on staff seemed hesitant to call either of the Kaiba brothers by their names, opting for an honorific at the very least, but typically relying on titles; some more elaborate than others. One man—Akiko believed that he worked with the head gardener—called Seto "my lord" without the faintest trace of irony.

Traumatized children often combated their sense of helplessness by lashing out at others, particularly those in perceived authority. She figured that, by placing Mokuba in a position of power—in short, by bowing her head—she might just start him down the road to feeling confident and secure enough to maybe tell her what was wrong, or at least tell her enough for her to figure it out on her own.

At first, he seemed to like it. It was, of course, a term of respect. But there was a sense of camaraderie to it, too. A sense of friendly, warm confidence. It wasn't as dry or as . . . systematic as Isono's "young master," nor as perfunctory as "Mokuba-sama." Neither was it too familiar. Not to mention, Mokuba didn't seem to like hearing his own name, for some reason. He would flinch whenever someone else called for him.

Even if that someone was his brother.

Particularly if that someone was his brother.

Eventually, though, Akiko started to notice a certain hesitance to his smile—which was delicate and flighty enough already—whenever she called him by this little pet name. Soon he stopped smiling altogether, then he started to frown, then the flinching. Finally, he ended up asking her, snappishly and accusatory, why she kept calling him that.

Remembering that she would do much better to be honest with this boy than careful, Akiko simply told him: "You don't seem to like hearing your own name. You have a visceral reaction whenever someone calls you by it."

Mokuba stared at her for a while, possibly gauging whether he believed her. Then he said, "You say it too nice."

"Nicely," Akiko said automatically, and was relieved when Mokuba smirked at her, instead of sneering. It was as close to a smile as she was liable to get right now. "Are you saying you would rather I treat you less politely? Less fondly? Would you prefer I treat you like nothing more than a case study?"

"Maybe."

"I can't do that, Bocchan. My job is to help you. Forgive my saying so, but in my opinion the last thing that would help you right now is professional distance. I have a feeling that that's why your esteemed brother came to me, rather than a psychologist or psychiatrist. They are trained from the outset to maintain distance. I am not."

"I guess I can't expect you to listen if I told you to stop it."

"No, Bocchan. I'm afraid that isn't an option."

"You do know about me, don't you? About what . . ." He hesitated. "About what Niisama and me have done."

She didn't correct him this time.

She said, ". . . Yes."