Disclaimer: I still don't own Yugioh.
Chapter Three – Group Mess
"For this project, I want everyone to work in groups of three," said the teacher. The students looked around the room quietly, giving each other meaningful glances and signalled their friends to be their partners. The effort was a waste, however, for the teacher was not finish speaking, "That I assigned for each of you."
The class groaned.
"But why can't we just choose our partners?" asked a dark haired girl.
"Yeah!" protested the majority of the class.
The teacher smiled calmly. "You can't because I want you to work with different people," said the teacher. His voice was final.
The class groaned again.
"What's the point of arguing anyway?" Seto silently mused. Sitting quietly at the back of the classroom, he did not protest because he knew the teacher would never change his mind. Instead, he quietly observed the reaction of his classmates. They were groaning, arguing, and protesting. Mildly amused, he smiled. It was a very subtle smile, so subtle that it would certainly be missed unless one looked very closely. Of course, no one noticed.
The teacher began to read out the groups. As expected, it received mixed reaction. Finally the last two groups was announced, "Tristan, Joey and Ryou, you are group nine and lastly, Yugi, Tea and Seto you are group twelve. I hope you all like your groups because I am not going to change them."
Seto Kaiba sat alone at a small table in the cafeteria. He looked at the greasy cafeteria lunch in front of him. It did not look too appetizing. He reached for an oily fries in the dish, hesitated for a moment before putting it in his mouth. It tasted as bad as it looked. He didn't even know why he decided to buy the lunch in the first place. He could have brought the lunch a servant prepared for him, but he didn't.
"Hey," said someone.
Seto looked up.
"Can I take this chair?" asked a teenage boy.
Seto took a quick glance at the empty chair across from him. He nodded subtly. Without another word the boy walked away with the chair and left Seto once again in peace.
Seto turned his attention back to his lunch. It looked as greasy as it did before. He pushed it away. In any case, he wasn't hungry, at least not after the teacher announced the groups for the group project. Not that he would have a good appetite even if Yugi were not one of his partners for the project.
He despised group projects.
It was that simple.
Group projects are unorganized. They are ineffective. They are chaotic.
He recalled the last thing the teacher said before class ended, "Group projects are good practice for the future when you have to work with strangers in the real world. I know you guys do not like me picking partners for you, but this skill is essential when you graduate and start to work…."
"Right." Seto snorted. "In the real world…" he muttered sarcastically.
Human beings are always so… inefficient, imperfect, unlike computers.
Getting people to work with other is not the greatest idea when you really think about it logically. It does not make sense because of human nature. When people work together conflicts are bound to arise. First, there is the fact that humans usually think their own ideas are the best. For that reason, people argue over meaningless things when they are working together, wasting a lot of time. Another, is the fact that human are lazy, some of your group members may never do anything. That itself, would not be a problem if it were not for human's love of equality. Then there is human's greed. Even if they do manage to finish doing a project together, the moment human beings realize about the advantages they can get if they can get all the credits for the project themselves, conflict would begin. Which would of course lead to more arguments...
Last but not least, was the fact that despite the term group project has the word group in it, it never fails to make some of the members in a group feel more left out than when they are alone.
"… And I will put you in a group of five. Each group will design and make a paper airplane. However, unlike other paper air planes you made before, this will be powered by compressed air." The teacher pointed at a tank of compressed air connected to a metal rod fixed on a four feet tall wooded holder. "All you have to do is use paper and make a round tub that fits nice and tight onto the rod for the body. You need to design the rest of the airplane within your group. The group who makes the plane that flies the farthest will be given a special price."
Waves of excitement washed through the class of seven-year-old children. Suddenly the class exploded in lively conversations about the up coming project. "That's so cool!" exclaimed a flamboyant girl.
"I want to be in Akio's group," said her friend.
"Me too. He is smart and nice," replied that flamboyant girl.
The teacher silenced them by flickering off and on the light. "I will give you your groups now," she said with a bright smile. The class of seven year old waited anxiously at the edge of their seat. "First group consist of…"
The seven-year-old brown haired boy looked around him at his team mates and smiled. He was lucky and he was put in a group with the most desirable partners. Akio was a boy with dark hair, handsome features, and out going personality. Glowing with self confident, he was the classroom favourite, the most popular kid in the class among classmates and teachers. Everyone wanted to be in a group with him, Seto felt almost honoured.
"I have the perfect plan!" announced Akio. Seto and his group-mates looked up at their unofficial leader in silence. Akio took out a piece of paper and beginning to draw a diagram. "We should have wings like this," he said as he drew two big wings at the side of a tube. "The we should make the tail like this," he said as he added another part to his diagram.
Seto stared at the picture hard. It didn't make sense. The design couldn't fly too far. For one thing, the wings were too fancy, it would be too heavy and takes too long to make… Besides, if that plane could really fly the design would have been used. The design was not going to work.
Akio continued, "And the front should be like-"
"This is not going to work," Seto interrupted. He could contain himself no longer.
The three loyal followers and their leader turned their attention to the young brown haired boy. The looked at the normally quiet boy questioningly.
"The design is not going to work," Seto repeated.
"How do you know?" asked Akio.
"Yeah!" echoed the three other children.
Seto was taken aback. "I… I just do."
"But you never tried flying a plane like this, so how do you know it won't work?" asked Akio.
"Exactly," said the followers, staring at Seto doubtfully.
"I read it in a book," Seto replied, it was the simplest answer he could think of.
"What book?" Akio pressed on.
Seto opened his mouth but closed it and for a while there was silence. Other groups also turned to watch the commotion and quieted down, anxious to hear his answer. He hated the attention, so he sank back into his chair and looked down at the floor.
Satisfied by the 'answer' Akio continued to droned on about his design, the followers turned back to listen to their leader with interest, the rest of the class went back to their own projects. Soon the room was once again filled with noise and was buzzing with anticipation.
Seto stayed still. He found no reason to listen to Akio any longer. Explaining his own design would not do if the other would not listen. He fumed inwardly. There was no way his ideas would be used… Unless…
He smiled. If arrogant Akio would not listen to him someone else would. Another group, yes, he would help another group… He looked around the room. One of the groups caught his eyes. He would help them win. He turned his attention back to his own group with a spiteful smile.
"I am sorry," Seto muttered.
Akio ignored him and kicked the soccer ball to his team mates.
"I really am sorry," repeated the brown haired boy remorsefully. Events unfolded as Seto planned. Everything was going smoothly for him until Akio found out who designed the airplane.
It was unfortunate for Seto that every action came with a reaction.
Popularity grants people power. It gives them the power to control others. I
n this case Akio was able to make the whole class to turn on Seto with just one sentence, "If you play with him then I won't be your friend."
No one talked to him. No one was willing to play with him. Seto could not stand it. He was desperate.
"Please?" Seto pleaded, following Akio.
The popular boy finally stopped running. "Traitor," he whispered in Seto's ear.
"What can I do for you to forgive me?" asked Seto.
"You are a traitor." Akio said again.
"Please?" begged Seto.
Akio thought for a moment then smiled mischievously. "I will forgive you, Takashi…" the boy started. Seto sighed in relieve and smiled. "If," added Akio. "If you would kneel down, turn and bark three times like a dog in front of the whole class."
Seto blinked. Any trace of a smile disappeared from his face. "In… in front of the whole class?"
Akio smirked, "You've got it. Just kneel down turn and bark three times and I will play with you again."
Not quite knowing how to react to the situation, Seto was silent. Public embarrassment or public isolation? Both seemed undesirable. He imagined playing soccer with his classmates and talking to them again. The thought almost made him smile. Then he imagined himself kneeling and barking like a dog in front of the class. He could almost hear his classmate's hysterical laughter. He shuttered from the thought.
"When you do make your decision, tell me," said Akio, still smirking, "Takashi." With that he walked away.
"Let's see if you can stand this Akio… Ice blast!" cried the brown haired young boy. He pressed the 'X' button on his play station controller. "Die!" A white mage began to shoot a stream of ice at the enemy boss with his staff in the television screen.
The monster shook a bit but remain standing.
"No? You won't die yet? Oh well your time will come!" Seto cried at the screen. "You healed yourself?" The young boy hit his forehead and sighed in despair. He took in a deep breath. "That's fine Akio! You can heal yourself! See if I care! I can still kill you!" His thumbs danced on the game control. "I summon the white dragon," Seto said as he watched the clip of summoning on the television. "Burn him to death! Die!" he cried as the dragon began to attack on the television screen.
The sound of the opening front door and crying interrupted the game play. "I am home!"
Pausing the game quickly, Seto jumped up and greeted his father. "I bought salad on the way home," Seto reported.
The father tried to smile, but failed. The two-year-old boy in his arm had been crying all the way home from day care, the crying was giving him a headache. Seto walked forward to take his father's suitcase. "Thank you," said the father as he bent down and carefully put his two-year-old son on the floor so he could take of his shoes.
"Did you eat anything when you get home?" asked Mr. Takashi loudly, speaking over the crying.
Seto nodded silently.
The father picked up Mokuba, who was still crying, and stood up. "What were you doing before?" He looked around, the game control and the television screen answered his question. "Did you finish your homework before you played?"
Seto nodded, following his father into his little brother's room, his father's suit case still in his hand.
Mr. Takashi put Mokuba in bed and quickly walked out of the room along with Seto, closing the door behind him. As the crying dimmed behind the door, Mr. Takashi's headache dimmed as well. He sighed happily. "Okay, good. Now we can talk. So how was your day?"
"How was yours?" asked Seto in reply quietly.
"I asked your first," said the father with a tired smile.
"I had a wonderful day," lied Seto, "First we had this math test and I got perfect on that. Then all the classmates fought to have me on their soccer team because I am so popular and everyone likes me. Then at lunch everyone talked to me. Then I became the class hero by killing this big jerk called Akio… and then… then…" The seven-year-old boy broke off, he was crying.
The father let out a small gasp. He was surprised. His elder son never cried after his wife died. His headache was returning. "What's wrong Seto?"
The young boy didn't answer. He took deep breath in an attempt to stop crying but he failed.
"Is it something to do with school?" asked the father, looking into his son's eyes.
Seto looked away. He ran into the closest washroom to get tissue to dry his own tears.
"Tell me what happened," said Mr. Takashi, following his son to the washroom.
"Why do I have to be so different?" asked Seto suddenly, blowing his nose.
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone hates me…" cried the young boy.
The father opened his mouth but closed it promptly; he did not know what to say. Comforting others was never one of his talents.
Seto shook my head. "I know it was my fault, I know. I was angry that Akio would not listen to my advices. But why didn't he listen? What I said made perfect sense."
"How is this your fault? You know you are…" he paused, trying to find the right words, "more intelligent."
"I decided to help another group instead. I helped them to beat Akio. Then Akio found out and now everyone hate me," said Seto between deep breath, "I don't know what I can do to make them stop hating me."
The father messaged the side of his head, his headache was getting worst. He said nothing, but eventually he asked, "Did you try apologizing?"
The brown haired boy nodded. "No one wants to play with me anymore. I said sorry so many times, but they don't want to play with me."
Mr. Takashi sighed. "Did you say sorry to Akio personally?"
The boy nodded again. "He said he will only forgive me if I… if I…" Seto swallowed hard, "If I kneel down and turn around and bark like a dog in front of everyone." At this tears began to flow down on Seto's cheeks again. "But I cannot get myself to do that, I know people will just laugh at me more if I do that."
The father sighed again. "Sometime we just have to accept that Seto. Not everyone likes us," he said, emotionless. "There's nothing we can do to make those people like us." He paused, not sure what else to say he changed the topic, "I am hungry. Let's eat dinner."
A child never forgets his birthday. He or she always knows when it is. Always. It is one of those important dates in the year like Christmas, the first day of summer holiday, or the new-year, which they cannot forget.
It was Seto's birthday.
Naturally he was a bit excited; after all he turned eight that day. He remembered the way he cerebrate his previous birthdays when his mother was still alive. They would always have a small party then eat at an English restaurant at night. However, as the shorter arm of the clock hit eight he could not help but feel disappointed. That in itself was quite an achievement since he had expected little to start with. He did not expect a party, and he did not ask for one, since he could think of no one who he could invite. He was not expecting gifts from his classmates, or even cards. As for dinner at a restaurant, he was not even expecting that, since he knew his father was working on a very important project and had not return home until eight for the past week, though he thought it would be nice. All he really hoped was an indication that someone actually remembered it was his birthday.
None came.
No one sang happy birthday to him in school, or said the simple phrase happy birthday. In fact no one talked to him except for saying something like, "Can I borrow a pencil?" or "What is the answer for question number six?" Of course, he was used to that. He did not really have any friends after the whole paper airplane incident.
He was beginning to doubt that anyone remembered his birthday, even his father. He didn't say anything about this birthday in the morning, or during his phone call. Being a successful computer programmer and everything, perhaps, he was just a bit too busy to remember…
The front door opened suddenly. Seto jumped. He quickly turned around and found his father, as usual, holding his little brother, who was not crying this time, on one hand, and a suit case with the other.
Seto sighed silently, walked to his father and as usual, took the suit case, and wait for his father to take off his shoes and settle his little brother down on the floor. Mokuba wobbly stood up, fell, stood up again, fell again, then he gave up and craw toward his older brother. "Da! Da!" said the boy. Seto looked down at him, pat his head and handed the suit case back to his father.
"How was your day?" he asked.
"Pretty good. The new program is almost done. Tomorrow I can start polishing my work. How about you?" said the father as he began to take off his tie.
"Good." Seto lied.
"Did you finish your homework?"
"Yes."
"Good, cause we are going out to eat," said the father casually.
Seto's mind raced. He wondered if they were going out for dinner because of his birthday. However, the possibility of them going out for no reasons was bigger, they often eat out at a restaurant since his mother died.
They went to an English restaurant. "The food was good eh Seto?" asked Mr, Takashi as he carefully wiped Mokuba's mouth clean.
Seto nodded absentmindedly in agreement.
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the program. It's fabulous. With it, people can do their office work with half the effort. I should really bring you to work sometime, since you are always interested."
Seto nodded half-heartedly. The dinner turned out to be a normal one and Seto was awfully disappointed.
"Oh and here comes the cake."
His mind could not quite comprehend what was said quickly, but when he did, Seto gasped. He turned around. A waiter was slowly walking toward their table with a small birthday cake with eight lighted candles on top.
"Happy birthday to you…" Mr. Takashi began to sing, as the waiter walked closer. "Happy birthday to you," the waiter joined in. "Happy birthday to you," sang the cash register. "Hapi bitay tow u!" sang Mokuba, who had yet to learn to speak properly.
"You remember!" cried Seto joyously.
"Of course I did, do you think I am that forgetful?" asked the father with a smile, "Now make a wish and blow the candle out."
Without another thought Seto blew the candles out.
"Your present is in the car trunk Seto. You can see it when you go home."
Seto uncharacteristically hugged his father. He could care less. He was happy.
Happy hours zoomed past like it was just a second and in no time at all they were all home. And no longer than five minutes at all the huge wrapped up present was carried out the car trunk and up the elevators and into their apartment. In ten seconds the present was unwrapped.
"Mother board," said the eight year old as he stared into the huge rectangular box, his voice barely above a whisper, "RAM, accelerator, video card…" His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Now be careful with static electricity. You always seem to be interested in building your own computer," explained the father, "And besides home built computer are always the best. This can be so much better than the ones you buy in stores. Perhaps we can build this together sometime."
Seto nodded, too happy to speak.
"Besides all boys your age should have a computer. It's essential for homework and life in general. And I know I am not home most of the time, but this can accompany you, just like it did for me."
Not the end
This is the new longest chapter I've ever written. Eleven pages. If you think I deserve one, please review.