The Perfect Role Model? Part 2

He could not believe Mokuba had not wanted to play chess with him. Now, more than ever before, Seto was worried.

"Maybe my brother is changing, but I am not sure it is a good thing. He seems to be becoming more like me. One of me is already more than enough."

Pondering deeply, the CEO stared at the chessboard sitting ready with all the pieces. Should he let Mokuba go through this phase? Or would he rather bring his younger brother back to the boy's self as well as he could?

Seeing the chessboard without his brother across from him made the young man resolute. Mokuba would get a talking to that he, Seto, had never gotten. Now, was the first time the CEO wished someone had taken a daring step and tried to make him see the truth.

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Seto opened the door to his brother's room, waiting to be noticed or even acknowledged. It took some time before Mokuba dragged his red-rimmed eyes over to his brother's stern form.

"What do you need?" he asked wearily, taking a moment to try to rub the blurriness out of one eye.

"I need you to stop working so hard."

Mokuba just blinked for a moment, his brain so exhausted it took time for it to translate what Seto said.

In a helpless voice, Mokuba replied, "Seto, I'm trying to do what I should be doing." With that, the boy turned to begin studying once more.

He had not even heard the steps, but there was suddenly a cool hand on his forehead. Seto shook his head. "You've worked yourself into sickness. I want you to go to bed and stop working so much. You won't go to school tomorrow."

A small bubble of panic pressed to get free from within his chest. "But, Seto, I have to go! I'm just fine. I—"

His brother cut him off, "No, you're not fine, Mokuba. I should have done something about this sooner, but I thought it was just a stage you were going through."

Turning his dismayed eyes to the floor, Mokuba whispered, "I don't work as much as you do."

There was a tense silence in the room. Trying to keep his voice calm, Seto replied, "You shouldn't work as much as I do. I have a career and am older. You're still just learning the basics, Mokuba."

The boy's voice was still saddened. "I know, Seto. That's why I need to work hard now. I need to catch up to what you and the other 'slackers' know. Even if what I am learning doesn't seem hard to you or important, it is to me, so just let me do it. It is not as if you ever cared to check if I was doing my homework before, yet now that I am genuinely trying, you're not pleased." He hung his head, staring at the wooden floor by his feet. His mind was still foggy and dizzy, and Mokuba found it difficult to concentrate on anything. That was why he missed his brother's reaction.

Seto said nothing, and for a split second, his face appeared as it would have had Mokuba spit at him. But then, the CEO's face was back to its usual cold expression. At least, that was the usual expression when he was dealing with anyone besides his brother.

When Mokuba raised his head and turned to begin working anew on his assignments, he was quite startled by the slamming of his textbook. He followed the long-fingered hand up the arm to the angered face of his brother.

"You're not studying anymore, and that's the end of the story, Mokuba." Then, without even asking permission, he grabbed all of Mokuba's textbooks and notebooks and took them away with him as he left the room.

Mokuba stared agape after his brother, feeling betrayed and confused.

'What did I say?' Mokuba thought, truly feeling so disoriented that he could not recall his exact words. 'I just wanted to make my brother happy. If only I could be more like him and make him know that I am sorry for Gozaburo put him through, then maybe he'll be proud of me. But how can I do that without studying my work and becoming a good vice-president of Kaiba Corp?' Putting his head into his arms, Mokuba did not try to stop the warm tears flowing down his flushed cheeks. Nothing ever went right.

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Back in his study, Kaiba flipped through Mokuba's work, seeing the written assignments on the pages and how many extra problems his brother had done. Why had he suddenly wanted to work so hard? It made no sense, though his words had.

Had Seto ever cared about Mokuba schoolwork before? To be truthful, the young man took it for granted that his brother would do his work and do it well enough. No one ever had complaints about Mokuba. And, while it had always left a little uneasy feeling in his mind, Seto never praised Mokuba for good work. It was too difficult to get over the initial discomfort. There were hardly any memories to draw back on. Gozaburo definitely had not praised him for anything. It was always criticism for mistakes and abuse. For anything right; it was avoidance to mention it. So, Seto had no experience with giving praise.

Now, it seemed, he had to try to change. Or else, Mokuba would remain changed.

But how could he do it? Already, Mokuba was not pleased with him. Whatever he did next would probably just further anger the boy. Seto decided to wait at least one night before attempting to talk to his brother once more. With a sigh, he put the chessboard away and got out a book to read.

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"What am I going to do?" Mokuba stared in dismay at his empty backpack. "I have tests tomorrow and homework due!"

Slowly, the trepidation and anxiety turned to something else within Mokuba. All he could see were his brother's arms grabbing away his books and taking them away. It wasn't right! After all this time of not caring about his schoolwork, Seto went and took his books away at a time it was really important and mattered!

'I can't believe Seto! How dare he do this to me? Maybe he got worried that I was getting too intelligent. Maybe he doesn't want me as a rival!' Mokuba thought angrily to himself, for it was anger he was feeling. It boiled up from his toes and sprang upward to the tips of his hair, creating a feeling of coursing heat trying to break free from the skin. Never in all his life had the boy been so upset.

The new heat just made his fever rage higher, but Mokuba did not care about his health just then. As long as his dizziness was not bad enough to make him lose his balance, it did not matter.

He marched straight over to his brother's room. However, that was absent with no lingering junior high textbooks. So, Mokuba went on to the workroom.

'If my brother is working after he told me not to…' Even Mokuba could not finish the threat raging in his mind. The door to the workroom was immediately before him, but as he placed his palm on the door, his glance strayed down and he saw his card necklace. Inside was his brother's last real smile.

So abruptly, the anger dissipated to nothing.

"Oh, Seto," he whispered, sinking to the ground. "Why can't I make you happy? Nothing I do pleases you. I thought-I thought becoming like you would make you see how much I want you to be happy. But you still didn't understand."

Mokuba's conversation continued in his mind, 'Is there anything so flattering as wanting to be just like someone? I just wanted you to see what you meant to me and that by doing so I could mean something to you, too. Yet, I guess what I want is something only the old Seto would do. Now that you're a Kaiba, you can't help but care only for work. And that work can only be your own. I'm sorry, nii-sama.'

Mokuba slowly got up from the floor, looked at the closed door for a long time, and then turned. Like a prisoner on death row, the boy returned to his room for the night.

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He had thought it would be easier to weather, this acknowledgement of his brother never being pleased with him. Mokuba had been living with it for such a long time it was more of a background condition than anything else. Yet, now that the boy had forsaken any hope of changing his brother, he could see no reason in being happy with anything he did.

"I'll be mature for Seto. I won't mope and drag my feet from room to room. But,"—and here he sighed—"I can't see much reason for trying in anything anymore. Why did I ever want to do well in school, even before I became obsessed with it? It was to make my brother proud of me. And now that I can't even begin to pay him back for his punishment of learning from Gozaburo by learning all I can, I don't know what I can do."

Morning had come at last as it does to every tortuous night, though phantoms of the mind would deem it impossible. The trickle of sunlight pooling on his floor had a glimmer of warmth and happiness to it, but Mokuba saw it only as something far away that he could not reach.

Ever so slowly, the boy pulled on his school outfit, glancing once at his backpack when he was finished. Would he even need it if he could not do work?

Stepping across the carpeted hall and to the kitchen, Mokuba had no expression on his face. The grey-purple orbs were large and empty as a saucer filled with liquid only. There was no warmth or emotion resting in them this morning. Neutrally, coolly, they observed things, but again, it was from a great distance. Coming to the reality was a boundary Mokuba did not feel up to crossing.

His brother was eating a piece of toast in the kitchen, and he glanced up as Mokuba quietly padded in. Seto pushed the full fruit bowl at his young sibling, watching him as he chose an apple and began nibbling it.

A gusto sigh came from the elder Kaiba.

"You can have your books back; they're sitting on the table in the living room." Seto was silently watching his brother, but the boy made no change, no reaction. He sighed once more. Trying to breach the subject was obviously not going to be made any easier by Mokuba. "I want to talk to you about your schoolwork, Mokuba."

His deep eyes peered up at Seto, large depths reflecting Seto's unease. Then, the boy blinked, shattering the reflective surface for long enough that his brother could glance away and get free.

"It's all right, Seto," he responded quietly, focusing on his tart apple. "I won't work so hard again."

That amused Kaiba immensely, that one could just decide to stop trying. However, it was not right to crack a small grin at such a somber boy. Finally, because it had been growing on his mind, Seto brought up another subject hesitantly.

"I thought I said you weren't going to school today. Why are you in your school clothes?"

The bite Mokuba had been taking stopped for the merest of moments before continuing. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

Where was the boy from last night who had been lashing back at Seto for anything he said? What had happened to his brother to turn him into this mindless puppet using his tongue merely because it recalled how to talk? Seto would have rather had an upset, alive Mokuba than this quiet, subdued child giving in to every statement.

"Are you feeling all right?"

How could Kaiba know what went on his brother's mind? How could he guess that everything he said about Mokuba was changed to fit the problem growing in the boy's mind? How could he see that Mokuba took everything and saw it as another failure to please his brother, to make him at all proud or fond of him? He could not. So, the cycle continued.

Seto was going to put his hand to Mokuba's forehead, but the boy ducked out of his chair, taking his apple core to the garbage. "I'm fine, Seto. Have a nice day at school and work."

It infuriated him. Mokuba, he wanted to cry, why don't you show a thread of life in your eyes? Why don't you fight back and tell me why you do what you do? But Mokuba's eyes held no answer, and already the boy had walked away.

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Obedience. Was it not all what Seto wanted? It made sense to Mokuba. After all, Gozaburo had drilled into him that obedience to rules was to be expected. So, it followed that Kaiba expected the same of his younger brother. There was no reason for Seto to be upset in Mokuba's mind.

'Maybe, after all, this will be what makes my brother pleased.' As soon as he thought that, Mokuba squeezed shut his eyes and told him, 'No! We aren't trying to do that anymore. I am just going to do as nii-sama says and remain unfeeling about it. Most likely, I'll just be disappointed again otherwise.'

The books had remained downstairs on the table. He needed them not. Faintly, for the distance between them was large, Mokuba heard Seto calling him in as sick at school.

What would he do all day? For the first time in what felt like ages, Mokuba spied his violin case and reading books, not to mention his drawing pencils. Now, he was free to do all of that. But, the boy did not want to. Maybe catching up on his sleep was the best route to choose. First, though, he had to see his brother off or Seto would get worried.

At the time Kaiba always left, Mokuba went back downstairs. There was a slight awkwardness between them, and Mokuba did not try to ease the air.

"Goodbye, Seto. When are you planning to be back?" He asked this question because he had always asked it. Now, the very tone of it seemed fake.

"Right after school. I'm not going to the office today." He hesitated, as if it were difficult to ask, "Do you want to play a game later?"

About to shrug, Mokuba stopped himself in time. That would really upset his brother. "Sure." But then, that tone and word would not please him anymore. No matter how he struggled to avoid it, the concept kept returning to him and showing him every time he failed…

Another silence. "All right. Bye, then." With a click that marked finality, Seto Kaiba vanished through the front door after casting back a worried look at his brother.

'Great, I worried him again. Can I do anything right?'

Apparently not, for after he had cleaned up the house and made an after-school lunch for the two of them, Seto appeared worried once more. But what else was a bored, uninspired boy supposed to do with all his time?

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble, Mokuba."

"It wasn't trouble." A small building up of what felt like sickness traveled up his insides. With a start, Mokuba realized it was his hopeful anxiety once more. Could Seto be pleased with what he had done?

"We have maids, you know. And cooks. Why waste your time?"

Now, he really did feel sick. Nodding slowly, Mokuba gave no verbal answer. Why had he wasted his time indeed?

It was odd, but as Mokuba climbed the stairs back to his room, wondering what he would do for the rest of the evening, the tears that had been struggling and fighting to hold in previously were gone. Just vanished. It was like a deep void within him had sucked up all his emotion and took away anything that could make emotion as well. Dry emptiness was all that remained to him.

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His brother was readying the game in the bedroom since Seto's homework was already done; it was always done before he left school. Even if he would have had some, the young man would have done it in other classes in order to finish it. What infuriated his teachers about it was that the CEO still managed to answer all of their questions right while doing the other homework.

Yes, Seto Kaiba always managed to amuse and please himself. Maybe that should be what Mokuba tried to do. After all, attempting to make his brother proud of him never worked. Maybe it would be best to please himself with his own work.

The boy's heart fell and shattered into many pieces. He could never give up wanting Seto's approval. So now, Mokuba vowed to never give up searching for his pride, for his praise. But, he would never let his brother know about it, instead remaining the way he was now. No arguing with his brother, no working too hard, and no worrying Seto. His brother would never even know anything was going on. And Mokuba would still have his hopes, though he tried to stifle them, that one day, perhaps, Seto would be pleased with the boy for what Mokuba could do.

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In a nearby room, Seto set up the board for capsule monster chess, readying his brother's little figurines for them to choose from. He thought after his time at school that Mokuba seemed back to normal. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to argue or talk a lot. Maybe his interpretation of Mokuba's character had been wrong all along. Enthusiasm was something that wore off in time, anyway. Did it matter if Mokuba had lost it now or in a few years?

In fact, it appeared he would not have to do anything for his brother or ask him any difficult questions. The boy was back to normal.

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"Mokuba, are you ready to play a game with me?" Seto asked after changing clothes.

The boy glanced up from where he had been gazing at the bookshelf lined with countless titles he would never read. "I guess so, yeah."

Though he hesitated greatly and felt odd asking, the elder Kaiba could not resist asking just once, to be sure, "Is everything all right, Mokuba?"

It was either a quick lie or a time-consuming truth of so much sorrow in it he could not add it to his brother's difficult life. Seto had hidden the truth for him for many years about just how bad Gozaburo was, and now, Mokuba could finally return the favor.

What right did he have to complain? He had plenty of good things in his life. Did it matter if one, even if it was the most important one, was absent?

All his thinking had taken place in a matter of a few split-seconds. His brother had no reason to think he was lying.

"Yes, Seto, everything's fine."

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The (or, at least, what should have been) End