Chapter 4

Five hours later, Kaiba sat staring at the computer screen in front of him, having long given up on doing any real work. He sighed tiredly, and pushed away the keyboard from the edge of the desk, where he'd had his fingers poised over it, ready to pound out lines upon lines of code for his new game. The cursor blinked expectantly, almost mockingly, and Kaiba was suddenly extremely frustrated. He wanted to pick up the computer and fling it across the room, to smash it into tiny pieces.

But no. He was a rational being, and he would behave in a rational manner. He took a disk from the top drawer of his desk and saved his day's work, all nineteen lines of it. He'd take it home and finish it, and then he'd review the contracts he was supposed to go over this morning, and then he'd examine the finance information he'd requested the day before. Hopefully that wouldn't take long, and then he and Mokuba could be ready to leave by 7pm.

He stopped formulating his itinerary for a second to wonder exactly what work he had done that day. None. Absolutely nothing. Productive and efficient, his ass.

He had arrived a little late, to the shock of every employee he'd encountered on the way to his office. He had coffee, strong and black, as usual. His secretary brought him the day's schedule, the contracts and the finance sheets. He should have started working right then, but he just stared at his computer screen, occasionally tapping out a few lines, or shuffled the papers around his desk distractedly. When would all this end? He was sure he'd put all this rubbish behind him for good last night. There really wasn't any good reason for him to be behaving this way. Really, there wasn't.

He now called his secretary in, and gave her back most of the papers she'd brought him that morning, asking her to see that the other members of the board took care of it. Confusedly, she took them, and Kaiba could tell that she was having trouble not asking him if he was alright when he requested more games. For debugging, of course, he assured her.

He spent the entire afternoon playing games, managing to jot down some bugs while he was at it, and before he knew it, official work hours were over. He normally stayed at least an hour later on Saturdays, but he figured that since he would be working full time at KaibaCorp starting on Monday, he could leave while it was light out today. Not to mention the fact that he wouldn't get any work done anyway.

He drove home, looking forward to going out with Mokuba. He realised on Wednesday how much he missed spending time with him, and resolved to make more time for his little brother.

Since he hadn't stayed late, he got to the mansion earlier than expected. And since he hadn't brought any work with him, he decided that they had time to go to KaibaLand first and then to dinner. Mokuba was all for the idea, and they were soon there, where Mokuba aimed to play everything twice.

"Gods," Kaiba said at dinner. "You act as if you don't own KaibaLand."

Mokuba made a face and managed to stick his tongue out through a mouthful of rice.

"I don't own it. You do," he said after he's swallowed.

"We own it, Mokuba."

Mokuba brushed off Kaiba's amendment with a sip of juice.

"Are you going out tonight?" Mokuba asked.

Kaiba's jaws, which had been working at a piece of eel, slowed considerably, and he looked at Mokuba guardedly. Who had he been talking to?

"We are out, Mokuba," he said carefully.

"No," Mokuba rolled his eyes as if his big brother was being very silly. "I mean, after this."

"Of course not. What gave you that idea?" Kaiba asked trying to be as casual a possible without sounding forced.

"I saw the invitation on the table. I thought maybe you'd go." Shit. He'd left it on the coffee table. Kaiba could have been wrong, but he swore Mokuba sounded a little hopeful. He decided to employ evasive tactics.

"When did you become such a snoop?" he asked, in a tone as close to teasing as he could manage.

"Ha ha, I'm not a snoop. It was just lying there, so I read it. And stop trying to change the subject."

Kaiba raised his eyebrow, knowing that old tricks wouldn't work on Mokuba. He'd learned them all by now. He sighed.

"Clever little brat. No, I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?"

"You never go out."

"That's not true. I'm out now. We went out on Thursday. I can't go out every day."

"You know what I mean. Spending time with me is different."

"I don't need anyone else."

"That's not true. We all need friends." Mokuba sounded particularly vehement about that.

"I've got you. And I'm too busy for things like that. Friends aren't going to help me run KaibaCorp."

"I outgrew that excuse about the same time as my bunny pyjamas." Mokuba's sarcastic expression, a miniature version of his own, almost made him smile.

"Those were cute," he mused dryly.

"Seto!" His sharp exclamation drew turned the heads of a few patrons at nearby tables.

"Look, Mokuba, I'm fine. And even if I wanted to do the friend thing, it wouldn't be at that party tonight."

"Friend thing? You make it sound so…so - urgh!" Mokuba threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Alright," he continued. "So, if you don't need friends, does that mean I don't either?" he challenged Kaiba.

"No, you need friends."

"Why? What's so different about it that I need friends but you don't?"

"Because all norm-" Kaiba stopped before he finished his sentence. He was going to say that all normal people needed friends, and he wanted Mokuba to be a normal boy, not messed up like his big brother. But there was no way he was saying that. That would lead to a whole different conversation he wasn't up to having.

"Because…because you just do," he finished lamely.

"You know that that's a dumb answer." Mokuba smiled triumphantly.

This was not going the way Kaiba wanted it to go. He hated when Mokuba got like this. It was getting harder and harder to win whatever debate they'd inevitably start. Kaiba thought it was particularly unfair because Mokuba used his puppy-eyes as a secret weapon to break him down. Mokuba knew he couldn't say no to the puppy-eyes.

"…and so you have to go!" Mokuba finished. Kaiba hadn't realised Mokuba had been talking, but he didn't like what little he'd heard.

"Go where?" he asked suspiciously.

"The party tonight!" Mokuba said cheerily.

"No, Mokuba. And that's final," Kaiba pronounced. He stabbed at a piece of eel and shoved it into his mouth for emphasis. He averted his eyes from Mokuba's disappointed face. He didn't want to lose to the puppy-eyes. Or the guilt of letting his brother down. He had too much emotion in him already, and if any more joined the throng he had a feeling he'd explode. He was struggling to keep everything in, to keep his controlled façade in place. He couldn't let puppy-eyes push him over the edge in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

"I just want you to be happy, big brother." The sadness in Mokuba's voice was almost unbearable.

And there it was. That awful guilt.

"I'll tell you what," Kaiba told Mokuba hesitantly. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Mokuba's violet eyes lit up instantly. "Okay. You'll consider it, right?"

"Sure," Kaiba managed. He figured this was a white lie. He'd already considered it. For too long, in his opinion.

"How about we check out the competition after dinner?" he asked to cheer Mokuba up - and assuage his own guilt.

"Cool!"

Mokuba liked to cruise the other arcades; Kaiba didn't know why. But it cheered him up alright, and in the blink of an eye, they were heading home, Mokuba asleep on the backseat. Kaiba smiled. Try as he might, the poor kid could never stay up past 9:45pm.

After he'd put Mokuba down, Kaiba retreated to his own bedroom. It was way past 10pm, and he wanted to get in at least six hours sleep before he got up at 5. He usually functioned on much less than that, but he was hoping that an (relatively) early night might put his internal clock back in sync.

But, even in sleep Mokuba wouldn't leave him alone. He found the invitation propped up on one of his pillows, staring at him. He felt the need for a shower, all of a sudden, and swiftly crossed the room to the adjoining bathroom. The shower had recently become his best friend – he wasn't thinking too clearly these days, and the shower provided a haven of privacy where he could get a hold of his wild thoughts. And whatever else needed getting a hold of. He quickly disrobed and was soon standing under the jets, palms on the wall, letting the water sluice off his face, chest and legs.

Maybe he should go. So that Mokuba wouldn't be disappointed the next day. He had seemed pretty adamant about the whole thing, and who was he to deny Mokuba anything? It was just a stupid party. He could go, spend five minutes there and then come back. He'd be making Mokuba happy at no cost to himself. He was already wide awake, and there'd hardly be anybody there – it had only just begun.

He turned around, letting the water hit the nape of his neck and his back, and he chid himself. He was pathetic, hiding behind Mokuba, using him as an excuse to go to Otogi's. If he really wanted to go, he wouldn't have to use an excuse, or talk himself into it. Then again, he reasoned, by the same logic, if he really didn't want to go, then he wouldn't have had to talk himself out of going.

He sighed, stretching under the hot water. He looked at his arms suspended before him, effortlessly distinguishing the bruised flesh from the rest of his pale skin. He didn't even want to think about his face. He'd always hated the fact that he could be so easily marked, that his skin was so pale and thin. But in the instant he saw his arms, that hatred rose to new heights. Big, ugly purple reminders were stamped into his very skin, and he didn't want to relive any bit of the past few days just as much as he wanted those marks gone.

Epiphanies be damned, he wasn't going anywhere. And that was final. He turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. He'd spent entirely too much time in there; he didn't want his skin to shrivel, like a horrible purple raisin.

By 11pm, he was in bed, resolve in place, the invitation flung haphazardly onto the bedside table. By 12am, he was already dressed and heading quietly out the door, keys and invitation in hand.

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