Chapter 12

On the day of my birthday, Gozaburo set forth a challenge to me. A challenge so soon after I had withdrawn into myself and only turned out a steel face to the world

"Seto, what's your vision of the future for Kaiba Corporation? How would you run Kaiba Corporation once you inherit my position?"

Obviously, now that my box had been crushed and my will broken, Gozaburo could ask such questions without fear. And apparently, I had been keeping up enough with my studies not to fear being kicked out any longer. Well, a good threat would do that to any person with something to lose. And my brother was something I wouldn't lose—not him or his dreams.

The grandfather clock steadily ticked as I formulated my answer. I knew what the old man wanted, but after being kicked, oh yes, even after failing miserably, I was never going to be a cowering dog.

Tick…

"I'm going to build Kaiba Land."

Mokuba's young voice piped up to take over; this dream I had told him to keep him happy before, and now, while it was my own, it had also become his. And his dreams were my dreams.

"Seto wants to build a kind of Disneyland of games for…poor kids." Quietly, face turned aside, Mokuba added, "Like us."

With a scoff, attention turned more toward cutting his filet mignon than his two "children," he said, "That's boring."

Unable to hold back, I stood up in protest. "Games aren't boring! Games purify the soul!" I knew about that from my own days living in this place. "They can make anyone feel like a winner, feel like he can accomplish something!" Abruptly, I shut my mouth, remembering how Gozaburo had already proved me wrong on that.

"So what? Can games make the world turn?" Now, Gozaburo also stood, throwing his napkin down. "I want you to take over the company so you can be a ruler, not some play actor, some clown. Hobson, confiscate all the boys' toys. They don't need any encouragement of such an idiotic idea." Turning toward me, finding my fiery eyes with his own rigid ones, Gozaburo added, "You won't be touching those games again until you learn how to rule."

And so, games removed, my lessons continued without letup, coming down heavily that very night. Although I was exhausted, as usual, and just wanted sleep, Hobson returned with a book for me and a reminder that I was just on a break before the lesson began in several minutes.

All my self-control had vanished that night, and as I flung down the book he had brought, I looked with surprise to see it fall open. The book was hollow and a simple message rested within. The message was from Mokuba.

"Please don't let them steal the most important treasure. Use these and relax."

Duel Monster cards…my brother had saved my cards for me and secreted them over to me. They were all so special, but there, at the bottom, was something even better.

The paper was flimsy and white, making it unusable in the real game, but as soon as I saw it, I knew the card was too good to play with. A Blue-Eyes White Dragon. My favorite card, a dream I had absentmindedly told my brother long ago, hand drawn by my younger brother and his crayons.

Nothing could take my and my brother's dream away from me now.

For some reason, this single act of kindness made me want to cry and bawl more than any violence against me, any threat or sound of anger. How could I be worthy of such niceness? I hadn't even been the one who had given us this place as a home. Adopting me had been Gozaburo's plan from the start.

Coldly, collectively, I banished the traitorous emotion from my mind. Emotion made a person weak, made someone susceptible to doubt. I couldn't afford doubt where I was. The note instead became a different sort of beacon of encouragement:

Mokuba hadn't given up. Therefore, nor could I. We'd show Gozaburo how tough little urchins could be.

The card became not a friendly drawing by my brother or even a special Duel Monsters card. The dragon was simply a truth. And like that dragon, I, and through me, my brother, was going to rise to the top and pass by everyone beneath me. More importantly, no one was going to be able to forget about me or cast me aside like filth.

People would fight to be my friend.

How many days had gone by? All the time had turned into a swirl of blowing colors and ticks of a clock, a collection of Jumi's smiles and Mr. Guy's verbal harassment. But, after hiding in the closet and refusing to see his teacher when she had been there that day, Mokuba had lost all track of how long he had before he would be adoptable.

"Oniichan!" Jumi had cried when Mokuba had finally made himself leave the closet and walk stonily around the orphanage.

A twinge of guilt had entered his gut like a piece of rotten meat, for losing Jumi so he could hide seemed very selfish to him. But pretending to be happy to someone who wouldn't understand his sadness…it was unbearable. The break was one Mokuba had despised and appreciated at the same time.

"How you doing, Jumi?" He had tried to smile and failed. Unbeknownst to himself, the lopsided attempt had more resembled the ones his older brother had done when they were children than his own earnest, truthful displays of warmth.

"Kaede was here, and she wondered where you were, and I said I lost you, and she was so surprised, but she played games with me and waited and waited! Why didn't you show up, oniichan?" Jumi had looked up, completely puzzled as his question muffled the excitement he had had when explaining about Dojinschi.

What could Mokuba have said?

"I was busy. But don't worry; I'm here now. Do you want to do something?"

And, Mokuba conveniently changing the topic, Jumi had not questioned him further.

Ms. Dojinschi did not return in the following week at all, slowly calming Mokuba's fears, while inflaming them at the same time.

Waiting for any action was worse than hiding in the presence of it. Every time the young Kaiba thought of his predicament, he felt a sudden churning in his gut as if a dagger had been twisted there, or as if he had swallowed all the pieces (and those added by Jumi) to the game of chess. The feeling was nearly like waiting to be punished, only no one was there to punish him. Mokuba had given up all chances to visit the only one with any right to do so. Now, by reliving the guilt every day, he simply was punishing himself.

Certain images and memories forever imbedded themselves within a person. Most usually, they were inaccurate, but they could be so vivid a person would adamantly protest any hint that they were false.

I wished mine were false. But all the accounts have reported the same. Or at least, all those who worked for me reported the same to me. What the police heard was a different story.

Sixteen years of age and the duties of manhood again rested on my shoulders. But by then, I was well-used to the burden. And I wanted more.

"I lost my game with you! Know this! To lose is to die, to quietly give in!"

Did he really expect me to forget when he forever connected himself with the imagined vision of what my other father looked like when he lost his game as well? A shattering of glass, an impact, and a stain on the sidewalk that was forever in my mind. It seemed both of my "fathers" would exit the world in the same way.

And I was happy. Truly, sincerely happy.

Well, as happy as I could be. The problem was simple: Gozaburo may have lost this last game with me, but there was always one other game enmeshed in my mind as having lost…the most important game, the one that changed my life the most of all decisions. He still had that with him all the way to his impacted death and jerking release of the soul. Although I had won the company from him in my newest "game," the first game that I had lost would always rest on my shoulder, bowing them in anger and determination to never lose again.

And there was something far worse…Goazaburo's lesson did indeed stick.

Failure meant death. Death for him, death for me, death for my enemies in a sense.

Even for my brother.

It doesn't matter that John Watson, the behaviorist, claimed that he could take any child from anywhere and make that child into any kind of person: good, evil, wild, obedient…It didn't matter that that could have happened to me with Gozaburo. It didn't even matter that my life had been one hole of hell to live through or that I was tired of responsibility. All that really mattered was that my younger brother had been calling out to me silently with his actions, and I had ignored him.

My eternal duty ignored.

So, really, later losing to Yugi in that duel in my box was simply more humiliation, but his action, his obliteration of my mind had come just in time to save me.

I owed Yugi the rest of my life, and I hated him for it. Still do. Hate him for my failing.

I had been completely self-reliant, completely in control, but for this one time. And he had to be the one to save my brother, be the one to cast me into oblivion where I would ponder out my life and its meanings.

Being adopted by Gozaburo had been a mistake, a very grave mistake. What was worse was that I had hardly ever been stupid, and yet, when it truly counted, I had made the mistake. That's all that mattered.

I didn't even trust myself or my brother's trust of me anymore. I couldn't even rely on my own brother, my pride, my commitment and complete purpose in life.

Gozaburo had truly won.

Conclusion of Dramatic Monologue

It had come to me, one day, abruptly and suddenly in the office. What Yugi had said. Something about the power of friends. What even that annoying Gardner had said. "What do you have at the end of the day?" And finally, it had hit me. Nothing. I wasn't an undefeated duelist, I wasn't the best at anything. I had even fallen victim to the sheer idiotic, vindictive actions of the corporate board of directors. But, worst of all, my company had fallen—my adolescent war of hatred and stealing culminating in ownership of a company I completely changed had been brutally taken from me more than once.

What was more important than all those failures? What good was a person when the only thing he really cared about faded?

I couldn't work at my desk then, and all the sounds, yes, the sounds from floors and walls away, were buzzing in my ears. Voices. Voices of people who didn't know what epiphany I had just had and who could hardly have cared less. In fact, no one cared. No one ever had, except maybe Mokuba.

Before, when Gardner asked that question, I had thought I had Mokuba, if ever I would get him back from Pegasus. But, the truth was I didn't even have him anymore. My little brother wasn't so little anymore, and he was gaining friends. He spent time on other things besides schoolwork or company work. In other words, he had a life.

That was when I realized I didn't. Mokuba had been my only other part of life, and now that he was moving on…I couldn't borrow his anymore. No longer did Mokuba need me. I didn't have to be his father anymore, and being his brother meant less than before because I couldn't relate to him.

Children grow up and leave their parents…even if they remain close to their parents and continue to interact with them, it wasn't the same as if I had been his friend, wasn't even the same as f I had been his brother. I had never been my brother's sibling. I had always been his father, and I realized just what pain was possible with parenthood.

So, my lifetime, however short it had been, dream had come true. Mokuba's dreams had survived everything. My own had been forcefully and utterly shunned aside. For awhile, I had thought I could revive it because Mokuba himself was eager to see it happen. The changes to the corporation and even the building of Kaiba Land were the closest I came to having my own dreams fulfilled. But it was all false, phony. For my dreams were nothing except for Mokuba himself, and his personal dreams had extended beyond me; he didn't need me.

What would I say when he told me he was going on a date? I couldn't relate. Girls were completely foreign, useless, stupid. But there was no doubt my brother would see things otherwise eventually.

What would I say when he told me he was planning on going to college? School was fine as it went, but he would be gone and making decisions on his own. Growing independent, absent from his "parent," as it ought to be.

What would I say when he told me through his actions of moving on and living separately that he had discovered a true happiness with others? That his friends were more important to him than I was? Friends…I didn't even know how to describe to him that word. Sure, people had fought to be my "friend," but I still had no idea of the true meaning of the word—the nonsense the followers of that annoying Mutou always were yelling at me.

Mokuba wouldn't need me anymore, but I would need him more than ever. Yet, because of my role, because of my true wishes for him, I wouldn't be able to hold him back. I would have to let him leave me, move out, get his own life away from me.

I would have to feign excitement and happiness when he took his role in life and moved aside from me, when he finally became completely independent and an adult. For, while he would have the hopes and dreams of the world ahead of him, I had only the sudden crumbling and collapsing of my entire life's goal and work. I would have nothing. It all had been for him and he would be gone.

What was more important that that fact? My brother…gone.

That was when the ticking of the clock so intrigued me. I couldn't say exactly why it was so important. But, something about it caught my attention right then. Each passing second…There was no holding them back. There was no going back. I couldn't even try to hold the ticks back in an attempt to stop time. And, I started being very quiet. I had to hear the ticking. I had to know if one more would follow this one. Why wouldn't time just stop? How could the ticks just go on ignoring me and unashamedly continue to break that which I had already put back together numerous times in my life. How many cracks would it have before it was irreparable?

Now the ticks were like the cracking of my soul, my heart…and I had to concentrate on the next one all the more.

And after that one, I had to know about the next. Would one follow? I had to know and listen. And keep listening. Had to keep…utter still, now. Couldn't move and…miss one. Just had to keep listening. Tick…listen…tick…and I had to keep listening…tick…there was something comforting-tick-about focusing only on the one sound…it had always been present-tick-in my life…and it seemed to help bring-tick-me back to how it used to be…

Tick…