Chapter 10

One night, a couple weeks after our arrival, Mokuba snuck into my room after my lessons were finished. Well, it was even later than when they had finished. When I looked at my clock, the time was nearing one-thirty in the morning. Losing so much sleep wasn't good for my brother.

"Seto? Are you awake?"

My eyes turned toward the door. "Yes."

"Good." His padding feet came over to my bed where he crawled right on in as if our home had not changed and we were still at the orphanage or even at our uncle's house.

Once he had properly stolen all the blankets and made himself extraordinarily comfortable in a way that I suffered extreme discomfort, his heavy head rested on my collar bone, and my pillow was nothing but a distant recollection.

"What did you want, Mokuba?" It was a good thing I had not been the least bit tired; or else, grumpiness probably would have overtaken my body as it craved sleep.

"I'm tired of Gozaburo. When can we leave?"

Very carefully, deliberately, I told him, "We aren't going to leave, Mokuba. We're staying here from now on."

There was a silence, but he wormed his body around—digging into me once more—as he struggled to get into a new position.

"But why?" he asked at last. "It's no fun, and I never get to see you."

"Do you remember the promise I made you?"

"That I can be anything I want?"

"Yes. To do that, we have to stay here. It's the only way for your dreams to come true. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Mokuba sat up and peered at me, but the darkness was absolute and I could see nothing. "I always trust you, niisama!"

"Then keep doing what you've been doing, and I'll keep doing what I've been doing. One day soon, Mokuba, you'll see that whatever you want to be can be true. People will never hold you back! But…"

"But I shouldn't trust anyone, right? Show no weakness?" Now, he was like a puppy begging for a pat.

"Yes, that's right. I'm glad you remembered. Even here, you can't be too careful." I put one hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready to go back to bed now?"

He nodded, black hair flapping, and, from his insistent tugging on my hand, I followed my soon-to-be-six-year-old brother back to his room, practically sneaking down the hallways.

Then, watching him crawl into his bed, I went over to the side and put on the nearest thing that came to a smile to me. Fortunately, it was dark and the gesture did not frighten my brother.

"Good night, Mokuba."

"Good night, niisama!" his small voice piped. Then, he reached his arms around and clasped my neck.

That speech had not only relieved my brother, but it had renewed my vow to stay strong in the face of a certain threat, one the butler Hobson had told me at a lesson: were I not to keep up in my studies, keep up with Gozaburo, Mokuba and I would be kicked out once more. No one would make me crumble. I would lose no fight. No one could kick me out, no one could get rid of me while I had my platinum box holding my one truth. My utter truth that kept me strong throughout the time there, through the pain and study, the loneliness and anger:

Had I not defeated Gozaburo once already?

Just a few more days to wander through, and then Mokuba would go to see his brother. Every minute was a rabbit poking its head out from the long grass, peering around cautiously, then slowly easing forward, ears twitching the entire time in case it should run back to safety.

Mr. Guy, the younger Kaiba guessed, did not know about the deal that was happening between himself and his teacher, so he stayed silent. It did not take a failed enterprise to know that to approach Mr. Guy with the endeavor would entail him with being locked away so he would be unable to go. Maybe the orphanage owner would never say that, a different excuse ready on his lips, but fulfilling one almost-brother-less boy's dream was not part of Mr. Guy's daily ambitions.

Playing games with Jumi, despite the repetition, could only take so much time away from a day. During the other minutes when he could not possibly attempt to explain the rules of chess once more to the boy, who, while learning quickly, still preferred his own rules, Mokuba cast his eyes around commonly rested them on Sven if the teen was around.

Then, because the mind commonly traveled down paths through which it should never tread, down lanes no one would dare speak aloud or even desire, Mokuba always contemplated on how Sven was like his brother.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind yet again, the younger Kaiba tried to pretend such a betraying of the mind never existed. But there was no taking it back. So, he had to justify himself. With the new bit of story Mokuba had learned on Sven, even more differences between his brother and this bully crept out of hiding.

Mokuba thought, Seto was never as horribly mean as Sven. He may have never bowed to authority, he may even have gotten into fights, but it was for my sake and nothing more. And, because I was there, I stopped Seto from being a bully like Sven.

The most prominent incident was still in his mind, one of his earliest memories. His brother had just jumped atop a certain kid who had been harassing him. But, for Mokuba, that was just as troubling as what had been happening before.

"They won't be so mean if you don't make a big deal out if it, niisama! It's only when you let it get to you! Please, Seto, don't fight…"

And, miraculously, his brother had crawled off the kid and dusted off himself. He had to give one final warning—always had to have the last word—but that had been the end of the reciprocity of violence.

Before, it had seemed his brother needed him—what would have happened if Mokuba had not pleaded for Seto to stop the fight? But now, Mokuba did not know what had happened. He was still present like always. Yet, somehow, Seto had fallen into a state where there was no telling what would happen. That meant, despite Mokuba's continued presence, Seto still had problems, still had pain.

Mokuba wasn't good enough to solve his brother's problems.

That thought always hurt the worst, even more than seeing how his older brother was like Sven or Mr. Guy.

So the days went by slowly as Mokuba counted down one by one.

Oh, the self-righteous social workers. They were required to make a viewing into every household that graciously extended their boundaries and treasure in order to care for ones abandoned by any gods and were but a nuisance living on tax dollars, and not even the company of a business tycoon who was paying most of those tax dollars was off-limits. So they came sporting their moral beliefs like a banner for all to see and praise. With all their emotions on the outside, it was impossible for them to process within themselves something like a lie. They had too much attention focused on what was going on without of them.

They asked the usual questions of whether or not my brother and I were happy being where we were. They recorded the answers with what they thought were reassuring, soothing smiles pasted on their condescending faces.

At first, there was the chance Mokuba would speak up against our new inhabitants. Yet, he also listened to my own replies and mimicked them in his own way. And, later, even if they questioned us separately, Mokuba's understanding that this was but a means to an end ruled all his responses. Besides, I imagined that he believed if I had brought us here, this was where we belonged. Such a simple understanding.

So, they never had a clue of the problems that resided within Gozaburo's mansion. Maybe it wasn't even in the mansion. Maybe it was just within me.

But I would not have wanted them to see any troubles I had coping. To speak out against his frightfully hard conditioning would be to admit I wasn't smart enough to handle it, that I had given up. My pride would never allow that. No matter what, I would not lose.

I had won the game of chess to Gozaburo, and I would continue to win any other game he wanted to play, be it with words or actions.

The little I knew of the world convinced me I was an expert at whatever else Gozaburo could try. But my pride had been my shortcoming before, as well as my weariness, and something would come once more to try me more than anything had yet.

One significant event happened before Mokuba was able to see his brother for the first time in weeks.

Mr. Guy was smiling amiably and nodding profusely as he led a couple around the grounds on a bright day with the sky clear as a mirror. Mokuba watched from a window, and he was so curious he decided to go out and risk being in trouble. After all, the orphanage owner appeared so welcoming, unlike his usual demeanor. That meant Mokuba ought to have been able to get away with a slight break of the rules because the man was trying to impress this couple, whoever they were.

"Let's go outside, Jumi."

Jumi's midnight blue eyes shone. "Really, oniichan?"

For some reason, despite the fact that he had never been banned to the indoors, Jumi rarely left Mokuba's side. Bored to death, the boy perked up now and jumped to his feet. His excess energy left Mokuba stumbling along afterwards like a patient bedridden for months trying to walk.

The bright sunlight was enough to sear away all the days in darkness that had lodged into his mind. Blinking there in the light, Mokuba paused until he could see. However, a voice called out before his eyesight was adjusted, before he could adequately secret himself away just in case Mr. Guy wasn't so happy to see him outside and did something about it later.

"Kaiba Mokuba?" Feminine, it also held authority. "What are you doing here?"

It was the well-known Januka couple. Mr. and Mrs. Januka owned a convenient store chain, and they had done business with Kaiba Corporation before about selling their products, which was how Mokuba knew them at all. Some dinner or meeting or other that his older brother had dragged him along to had them present.

Her husband took over, disbelief in his voice. "Is this child up for adoption?"

Before Mr. Guy could come in with some half-truth, Mokuba replied, "I'm not really. Just waiting for my brother."

Mr. Guy pounced on the opportunity anyway. "He will be available soon. Sad case, really. His brother is unable to care for him, but they are giving Mr. Kaiba until the end of the month. Because of your business, I assume you heard what happened?"

"Just rumors." Mrs. Januka looked at the black-haired vice-president of the biggest gaming company.

The young Kaiba glared at Mr. Guy, daring him to taunt his older brother in front of him. While it may have not been the mini scowl to do his brother proud, the prestige of the Janukas kept the owner's tongue in line today.

"A slight malfunction of the mind, you could say. But, if you are interested in adopting this boy, I can certainly make you the couple who gets first pick on him immediately after the last day given for his brother to regain guardianship."

The Janukas exchanged a silent look, and the missus bent down to smile at Mokuba. Before she could begin to futilely attempt to get to know the boy, a different face peered out from behind Mokuba, making the woman jump back and hold her heart.

Mokuba looked back at the smaller Jumi and hid a smile.

"Who…is this?" the woman asked weakly.

Mr. Guy was about to begin saying the other boy's name, but Jumi, eyes wide, dashed off suddenly, heading back inside the main building.

"Jumi, wait!" Mokuba was like a cheetah in pursuit; his longer legs ensured his catching the boy eventually.

Mr. Guy was left to apologize and hastily try to entice the couple to look at other, more reliable children. Forcing the two back would do nothing to make them more…presentable. Though, of course, if they were set on one of those two, he would see to it they were brought back. The perfect salesman.

From where he was trimming the bushes, one set of hungry, angered eyes focused on the couple. There was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Guy would never show the Janukas him. His clacking of the sheers became more lethal and louder as he became more reckless with every snap.

"What is that atrocious racquet?" Mr. Januka cast his gaze around until it fell annoyed on Sven as if the boy were a mosquito buzzing in his ear he could not quite silence forever with a firm smack.

Such a look…Sven remembered being the worm in another person's eye; not the apple, the worm. And it had been his friend's. And his father's.

After his life on the streets had been discovered by the police, after they were taking him back to his family and his new poor friends to an orphanage, the truth of his well-known last name had become obvious.

"Mitsumi? You're a Mitsumi!" Sven had never heard such disgust in a voice. But what pained him was that the voice had once been his best friend. Or, at least, he had thought the boy had been his best friend.

A wad of warm spit landed on his face and slowly oozed down as Sven made no attempt to wipe it off, just gaped at the hatred on the familiar face. Finally, tugging incessantly, the police officer pulled the Mitsumi away to his car.

As they drove Sven back to his mother's house, his parents recently divorced, Sven just felt the cooling saliva on his cheek slowly turning as cold as the glance his "friend" had given him. And nothing mattered anymore.

The drinking problems of his mother, his own father not wanting responsibility of him anymore—not wanting any reminders of his past life—the arrival at the orphanage, getting on Mr. Guy's bad side merely from his last name…all of it just piled up behind his realization of being friendless in an uncaring world.

Now, his own hatred of rich people welling up, borne from the confusion that came from knowing his only friends despised him once knowing his name, Sven would never leave richies alone. They deserved what they got for causing such grief. If they hadn't lived in such splendor, stealing from the poor, his friends wouldn't have been on the streets and hating rich people for their blessings. Plus, Mr. Guy's disgust for a rich brat needing to be in an orphanage just added to his own loathing of his class.

But what made it all worse was how he missed the days in his mansion with his family.

Lost in his memory and enveloping anger, Sven focused on his snipping of the branches of the defenseless shrub.

"Who is that?" Mrs. Januka asked, her own voice less bothered than her husband's gaze. "Does he work here?"

Trying to hurry them along, Mr. Guy said, "No, he's a…child, but a little…troublemaker, to put it nicely. He is always doing chores as a way to try to teach him to behave himself. Now, if you'll come this way, I have a much younger, nicer child over here who is a little shy, but he is growing out of it."

"Troublemaker, eh?" the wealthy man turned to walk with Mr. Guy. "I always felt work was the best way to teach them a lesson. Keep their hands busy…"

Left behind, Mrs. Januka was watching Sven, and when his eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat. There had never been a child's eyes so yearning and hungry for love. The burning embers smote a blow to her right then, and against her better judgment, she walked closer.

"Hello," she said, looking at the abuse he was giving the bushes. "Quite the job you're doing here."

Sven cast his look back to his task and mumbled, "I think you've made a mistake. Mr. Guy is trying to show you Yaikou. He's a good kid; time for him to be adopted."

The woman smiled. "And how long have you been here?"

He glowered at her as he continued sawing away the scant leaves that remained. "It doesn't matter. I've been here long enough to know I don't want to go anywhere some rich lady is going to pity me. I thought little Kaiba was going to be the perfect match for you; he's so used to wearing a suit and eating caviar."

"Oh, is that what you think we do all day?"

Sven averted his face, trying to keep inside how much he longed to try on a suit just once again, just once fawned over again. But people like this never looked at him. And Mr. Guy was certain to scare them away.

Back a distance, Mr. Januka glanced back for his wife, saw whom she was conversing with, and shook his head. "Oh, no…"

His wife had no idea of what Mr. Januka had learned by looking at her. Her attention was completely on the teenager. "Tell me, have you had much experience in the life of a business owner? Do you have any idea of the work that it entails? We don't want a slacker who just eats caviar all day. And you, it seems you are capable of putting in a day's hard work. Too good, perhaps." She gestured to the mutilated bushes, which he abruptly stopped hacking.

Coming closer to the wealthy man, Mr. Guy murmured all the grievances Sven had ever caused, all the fights he had been in. But Mr. Januka shook his head. "You don't seem to understand, sir. It's not me you have to convince but my wife. Yet, when she makes up her mind, nothing changes it."

The orphanage owner went speechless for a moment. What on earth had enticed a well-bred lady to go speak with Sven, the epitome of the street thug? Maybe the teen had said something rude. If so…

"What do you think, dear?" the woman asked as soon as her husband arrived.

Sven looked at Mr. Guy's scowling face and quickly said, "Maybe I don't want to go to a place where I have to work all the time. I don't want to have to polish up on my manners and pretend to be what I'm not." His days of living the wealthy life were nearly lost to him, as irretrievable as the bullet-fast words spewing forth from a teacher's mouth a student was expected to recall.

Coolly appraising, Mrs. Januka raised her eyebrows slowly. "Well, the final choice is up to you. But it seems to me you've already accomplished that last feat already if not the others."

Helplessly, Sven dropped the shears to his side as he stared at the ground. He knew what he wanted…always had. Why then, was it so hard to believe it could actually happen? The teen did not dare look on Mr. Guy's face to see the cold fury holding negation to all his hopes. If this woman wasn't lying, he wouldn't have to worry about Mr. Guy anymore.

"I trust your choices, dear," Mr. Januka commented, "but it may be a little difficult. Do you know his record?"

"Yes, I can read the painful past in his eyes."

This woman was nuts. Why else would she say such crazy things and…why else would she want to adopt him?

But still…

Sven swallowed and looked up. Then, carefully wiping his sweaty palm on his pant leg, he extended his hand. It may have been the left hand, but it was an attempt in the right direction nonetheless. His right still held the nature weapon.

"Take him and you'll regret it." Desperately, Mr. Guy fought for his free worker however he could. "I promise you he'll be back here in a week. Troublemakers like Sven are uncontrollable. He belongs somewhere he can be truly watched and supervised all day."

"I believe we have a surveillance system set up within our home. Can't be too careful with the thugs on the street." The Janukas nodded at one another and then turned to Sven, waiting.

Carefully, casting a look back at the building to his right, the teen said softly, "I owe all richies something: an apology." Then, he focused on Mrs. Januka's face and nodded. "I would love to be adopted by you."

By the time everything was taken care of, the only one's face that didn't hold a true smile was the owner of the orphanage.