Chapter 13: Speech, Speech, Speech!
October 25
—Kaiba Hotel, Domino—
The next two weeks passed by before Mokuba even realized it. After their "talk" in the car on the way home from their fitting, Seto seemed to make a point of avoiding Mokuba whenever and wherever he could. He had an assistant pick up their suits from the atelier; Isono kept showing up at convenient times to ask Mokuba for help with this project or talking to that department head... and he was never in his—their!—office when Mokuba found a moment to get up there.
And the exhibition is opening today, and as far as I can tell, Seto's missing in action! What the heck am I supposed to do?! Mokuba thought as he struggled to straighten his bowtie in one of the many Kaiba Hotel penthouse suite mirrors. No matter what he did, it always seemed to slope downward at a 45 degree angle.
He'd already scoped out the perfect place to put one of Seto's new paintings, but he wanted it to be a surprise, so he had housekeeping hang onto the box and put it up for him precisely when he knew his brother was supposed to be on stage.
What do I do if he doesn't show up at all? I've been pushing for more autonomy in the company, but this isn't what I meant!
Right as Mokuba growled at his reflection and undid his bowtie for the umpteenth time, he heard the suite door unlock.
"Seto?" Mokuba craned his neck back from the vanity area and looked toward the entrance. Indeed, Seto stood before him, already dressed in his perfectly tailored suit, the color of new snow. But Seto had traded his usual ice blue dress shirt for a deep turquoise, the likes of which Mokuba hadn't seen in more than a decade, and a tie the color of sapphires.
"Hey, can you help me with my tie?" Mokuba asked, opting to not bring up that Seto had basically ignored him for two weeks straight—something of a new record, unfortunately.
I don't want to scare him off.
Not that Mokuba really thought himself capable of scaring Seto...not in any meaningful way, at least.
Seto seemed to let out a breath before striding forward. Without a word, he took the loose ends of Mokuba's tie in his fingers, but he hesitated before actually doing anything with them.
"Butterfly or batwing?" Seto asked, his voice coming out just a bit gruff.
"A what with a who now?" Mokuba asked, one eyebrow twitching at the bizarre question.
"Types of bow tie styles," Seto sighed. "You should have gotten a pre-tied one if you didn't know how to tie one."
Mokuba scowled. "I thought it would be like tying my shoes! It's not my fault that this thing is all weird-shaped!"
Seto let out a snort that Mokuba supposed was a form of laughter and resumed tying, apparently having made up his own mind about what sort of bow tie style would best suit Mokuba's first-ever custom suit.
They were nearly the same height, Mokuba perhaps having a centimeter over his brother at this point, if just by virtue of his thicker hair. When he smiled at Seto, he was glad to see Seto's shoulders lose just a fraction of their tension.
"I invited them," Seto murmured as he finished wrapping one end of the tie over another.
"Invited who?" Mokuba asked, trying not to swallow too hard, lest Seto's efforts go to waste because his hapless younger brother got a coughing fit from trying to wear a bow tie for five seconds.
"...Our relatives," Seto said after a minute. "The ones I could find, anyway. Sent them an official invitation with a press release and a photo of us inside."
Mokuba blinked in mute astonishment. Of all the things Seto could have said, that hadn't been anywhere on Mokuba's mental list.
"There, a good butterfly bow tie," Seto pronounced, patting the tie when he was done. He took a step back as Mokuba glanced sideways into the mirror, a grin stretching across his face.
Of course Seto came through in the end.
He always did, didn't he?
"Do you think they'll come?" Mokuba asked under his breath. "I mean, will they even recognize us from the pictures?"
"They might not," Seto answered honestly, looking at the floor. "They might just treat it as junk mail, or be busy, or any number of other things."
"But," Mokuba hesitated, furrowing his brows. "They might also show up. And if they do…"
"If they do, they can come and find us."
"But did your invitation say anything like that? I mean, what if they think it's just some sort of party invitation, and they have no idea that we're here, or who we are to them? I mean, do you even know what they look like?" Mokuba couldn't help himself; the questions just kept coming one after another.
"It didn't," Seto said, sighing. "And they might. And no, I don't know what they look like. They're not in any of our databases, and I couldn't find any photos to go along with their mentions in news articles." He looked down at the floor. "Except for our cousin's memorial photo."
"Oh," Mokuba whispered.
Seto sucked in a deep breath. "We can't change anything about their actions," he said, his voice louder than before. "Tonight is meant to be a celebration for us—all of us at the company, and all of our students at the Duel Academias around the world. I refuse to let even the possibility of family drama change that."
"You're right, bro," Mokuba affirmed. "But we do have another reason to celebrate…" he trailed off meaningfully.
Seto wrinkled his nose. "It's not important."
"You turning 30 isn't important?" Mokuba wheeled on his feet and marched over to Seto so he could stand in front of him and grip his brother's shoulders with both hands. "Like fun it isn't! It's important to me!"
"Why?" Seto asked. "It's just another day."
"No," Mokuba insisted. "It's not. Not to me, and it shouldn't be to you, either. Stop talking like Gozaburo's still around and going to walk in any second. He's dead and gone, okay?"
"I–" Seto pursed his lips together in a tight line. "I know that."
"I know you know it in here," Mokuba said, tapping the side of his head. "But do you really believe it in here?" He pressed a finger to the left side of Seto's chest. "You act like you don't have a heart, but I know I'm not the only one who knows you've got a big one. Made of gold."
Seto rolled his eyes. "That doesn't even make biological sense."
"It's an expression, Seto!" Mokuba groaned.
"I know," Seto said after a few breaths. "I know. I just— being born isn't an accomplishment. Not for the person being born, anyway."
"Be real with me: do you remember any of your birthdays when Mom and Dad were still around?"
Seto's lips stayed pressed together in a thin line, but he closed his eyes tightly, as if the harder he squeezed, the faster a memory might surface from the depths of his brain.
"Just one," he said after a minute. "My fifth. I think… I think it was when I got my first LEGO set. And I had strawberry cake." The memory seemed to make him smile, if just for a split second.
"You smiled just now," Mokuba pointed out. "So it's a good memory. Don't you think you deserve to make more of those?"
"Mokuba…" Seto shook his head, but he didn't say anything else as he headed back toward the suite door. Seconds before he arrived, the bell rang, and Seto opened it to reveal Isono in his black-tie best.
"Seto-sama, Mokuba-sama," Isono addressed the two of them. "It's time."
Showtime, you mean, Mokuba thought, smirking. He'd give Seto a birthday he'd remember for the rest of his life.
About ten minutes later, Isono, Mokuba, and Seto entered the Grand Ballroom, the location for the official opening ceremonies for the exhibition. They came in through a side door close to the temporary stage that the hotel provided, complete with a sleek glass podium. Aside from a petite bottle of water, the rest of the stage was empty: of people, of chairs, of anything.
Ugh, why did I agree to introduce Seto and give the opening remarks? This is not my forte, Mokuba thought, staring at the lonely podium. He raised his arm to block his eyes from the stage lights from a few meters away, their radiant heat undoubtedly blistering.
"Do you have your speech ready?" Seto asked under his breath.
Mokuba withdrew a short stack of index cards from his suit's jacket pocket.
"Got 'em right here. Figured it'd be more professional to use these than try and use my smartphone's notes app."
"Good call," Seto replied. Just then, the background music faded, signaling the official start to the opening ceremonies.
Here goes nothing, Mokuba thought, sucking in a deep breath. He strode forward and climbed the short staircase with ease. That he didn't manage to trip over a hidden cable under the carpet or walk straight into the podium seemed something of a miracle to Mokuba. He managed to shake off the single drip of sweat that had traced its way down his jaw and set his speech notes on the podium's angled surface, letting them rest against the stand's metallic lip.
"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Kaiba Corporation's Autumn Glory exhibition—" Applause interrupted Mokuba before he could finish; he smiled and nodded at the shadowy forms beyond the stage, but it only took a moment before it quieted enough for him to continue.
"...in partnership with the Egyptian Archaeological Society. Many of you may know who I am, but for those that do not, my name is Mokuba Kaiba, the Vice President of Kaiba Corporation."
More applause, this time lasting for a good minute, and at least one shout from a feminine voice, "You're awesome, Mokuba-sama!"
Mokuba couldn't help the blush that crept up his cheeks.
"Thank you. Tonight's opening ceremonies are really the kick-off to a celebration of several things: we've got some new products we think you'll love, announcements about Kaiba Lands around the world and about our Duel Academias."
"Whoo, new Duel Disk!" a male voice called out. Mokuba stifled a small laugh, sure that the voice had sounded awfully like one Katsuya Jounouchi.
After a few minutes on the stage, Mokuba could start to make out vaguely familiar shapes among the crowd: Yuugi's stand-out hairstyle in one of the front rows of seats, reserved for Kaiba Corporation employees and special guests like the Ishtars; Mai and Jounouchi—is he wearing a tuxedo!?—standing next to one of the cocktail tables on the right side of the room; and even Otogi, in a black suit and dress shirt paired with a crimson tie and pocket square.
Mokuba pursed his lips and shuffled his speech notes for a second before making up his mind about something.
"Don't ask for permission, ask for forgiveness," Mokuba remembered Seto telling him at one point. He'd probably meant it as some sort of encouragement to take action, to not hesitate. The irony being, of course, that Seto typically didn't bother asking permission or forgiveness, and yet somehow he got away with it.
Must be his ineffable charm, Mokuba decided.
"You know, these are actually blank," Mokuba admitted, tossing the cards over his shoulder. "Even though I've known about this event for ages, I got super-busy with a bunch of other things—" his gaze swung from one side of the room to the other. "And I didn't actually prepare any notes. So I'm just going to wing it."
"I've been involved with Kaiba Corporation's operations since I was a kid, but this is actually my first time giving a speech for any one of our events. If you remember some of the biggest events in our history, you probably remember my brother Seto announcing the event in some epic way. Like that time he hung out of a helicopter. Or that other time when he used a jetpack to eject from a jet—seriously, a jet! I'm not kidding: there's footage of it on ViewTube, look it up—and land on stage at Kaiba Land USA."
A fair bit of laughter rippled through the crowd. Mokuba didn't dare look in his brother's direction.
Is he going to come up here and stop me? Or have Isono cut the audio to my mic?
But so far, so good. No one seemed to be approaching him from the side, and his mic still functioned, so…
"This event isn't special just because of the announcements or the duels—though those are very cool and I'm especially stoked to see one of our newest products demoed later tonight—but because it's a celebration of history."
I can do this, Mokuba realized. I just need to say what I've been thinking about for the past two weeks.
"The last time the Egyptian Archaeological Society brought artifacts for their 'Origins of Duel Monsters' exhibit to Japan was 13 years ago. Duelists and history buffs alike here in Japan—the first country where the exhibit toured—understandably freaked out when they saw many of their favorite cards had their origins back in Ancient Egypt."
Mokuba remembered his brother telling him about the Tablet of Lost Memories—something he derided as a fanciful name for a boring piece of rock—and how it featured something that looked suspiciously like the Blue-Eyes White Dragon on it. The paint had long since worn away, but in Seto's mind, there had never been any doubt.
I'm sure seeing it go up against a monster that looked an awful lot like Yuugi's Black Magician helped, Mokuba thought.
"Industrial Illusions hadn't announced that as part of their PR back when the game first came out, but once word of the exhibit got out, everyone wanted to see it."
"Kaiba Corporation's history is also inextricably tied to Egypt," Mokuba continued. "Thirteen years ago, my brother went to that first exhibit and launched one of the most ambitious Duel Monsters tournaments in history: Battle City. Fifteen years ago, Seto shocked the world when he became CEO and pivoted Kaiba Corporation from being one of the world's top defense contractors to a gaming technology and entertainment company."
Mokuba furrowed his brow, considering his next words carefully.
"Not everyone was cool with the idea of a teenager being their boss. A lot of people didn't like the idea that they'd gone from providing tanks and missiles to the world to focusing on ancillary products related to a license we didn't even own. But Seto believed in what he was doing, and before long, all those naysayers were on board with helping build theme parks to benefit orphans—kids like us—and to create interactive technology that would change the face of the entertainment industry as we all know it."
Mokuba took a deep breath and looked in Seto's direction. His brother had both arms crossed over his chest, and kept staring at Mokuba with an unrelenting stare, but he otherwise didn't seem angry. If anything, his face teetered on expressionless: a series of straight lines cut into a chiseled jawline.
"And though I know he's told me it's not a big deal, and not worth celebrating, Seto, I've got to tell you again: I beg to differ. See, 30 years ago to this very day, my brother Seto was born."
Absolute silence filled the room for a split second—a perfect moment of stillness, when Mokuba swore he could have heard a pin drop—before the room erupted in thunderous applause. Several people even shouted "Happy birthday, Kaiba-sama!"
"See, I told you, Big Brother," Mokuba said, daring to look back at his brother with a smirk on his face.
"So, without further ado, to give you some juicy details about our announcements and this evening's celebrations, I give you the CEO of Kaiba Corporation—my big brother, my hero—Seto Kaiba!"
Mokuba stepped back from the podium and headed toward the staircase, passing Seto as he went. In the space of a single breath, Seto leaned over and whispered to him, "I'm going to get you back for that, Mokuba." He just laughed and continued ambling down the stairs until he was at Isono's side.
"That was...very brave of you, Mokuba-sama," Isono said after a brief pause. He took his ever-present glasses off and wiped them with his pocket square.
Mokuba glanced at him. "Don't tell me you teared up, Isono? I didn't even write anything out, I just made up that whole thing on the spot!"
Isono gave a mild chuckle. "You are quite the orator, Mokuba-sama. It may not appear as such to you, but both of you have your humble moments. Take pride in your efforts, sir. They have made an impact not just on me, but on countless others, even beyond this room." Isono spread an arm out wide, gesturing at all the silhouettes applauding Seto before he could even begin to speak.
The applause lasted a good three minutes before Seto finally cleared his throat in a loud enough way that the shouts of "Happy birthday!" and "I knew you were a Scorpio!" and "Where's the cake?!" died down.
Away from the bright stage lights, Mokuba could finally make out a few more familiar faces: Malik with his sister and adopted brother in the front row; Leonhart beside them, whispering something amusing in Malik's ear, and much to Mokuba's surprise, one Ryou Bakura applauding politely from a third row seat.
Just then, he got a text alert from the hotel staff: On our way to the penthouse suite to install the painting, sir. It should take us no more than 15 minutes, but we will notify you if we are not gone by then to ensure Kaiba-sama doesn't get his surprise early.
Mokuba smiled. Phase Two of 'Give Seto a Birthday He Won't Forget' was nearly complete.
Just one more phase to go, and this one'll be the hardest, Mokuba knew. Bouncing around the world doing favors and making arrangements for friends was one thing, but getting his brother to show up to an "unplanned" birthday party?
Getting my MBA was easier than this!
But there was no backing out now.