By ElveNDestiNy, written February 27, 2005
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! No copyright infringement intended.
o - o - o - o -
Kaiba stared at the address that Amelda had left him and then at the map on the computer screen in front of him that showed the exact location and the fastest route to get there. There was also a telephone number, and Kaiba's hand reached towards the phone automatically. It would be easier to simply call, or to let his employees handle it. He regretted his words to Amelda, but this was it. His promise (if he had promised anything, exactly) was fulfilled. But somehow he couldn't envision himself saying this over the phone. It would be too cruel.
He didn't understand why he cared if it would be cruel or not. It was none of his business. He had no obligation to Amelda and there was no reason why he had stayed up late over the past few weeks, searching for Amelda's brother.
He hadn't had much time to spend with Mokuba lately. Sunday mornings were reserved for Mokuba; it had been this way ever since he had pulled himself back from the edge of disaster. Kaiba wasn't stupid enough to overwork himself into that state again, but Mokuba had come in last Sunday morning to see his older brother bent over the computer, hacking into some private governmental files to see if there was anything about what happened to the prisoners of a past war.
Kaiba exited the window immediately, but through some special sense that Mokuba had, his brother had realized immediately what he was doing. "I'm sorry," Seto had said, knowing that his little brother was upset when he was so distant. He never apologized to anyone but Mokuba.
"It's all right," Mokuba said. Being one year older hadn't changed him much, except he was a little quieter. Sometimes Seto missed the exuberant energy in Mokuba, which had somehow balanced his own everlasting fatigue. He didn't want to ever see Mokuba become like himself…it was what he worked for so hard, to give his brother something better. "It's important to you to find his brother, isn't it?"
"Yes," he admitted, though he didn't know why. "I won't anymore, if it cuts into our time together."
"No, I want you to," Mokuba said firmly. "I see you every day, even if we never have time to do anything together. He's been separated from Miruko for…years."
"Almost ten years," Seto said softly.
"He must miss him so much…"
And that was that. Mokuba had understood. He was glad of his brother's dedication. It worried him to see Seto working so hard, almost lapsing into the condition he'd been before, but it was also a good thing, Mokuba decided. He knew how much Seto needed this…to prove that he wasn't like Gozaburo, wasn't the product that Gozaburo had tried to make out of him.
Before he left, Mokuba impulsively ran to his brother than gave him a quick hug. Seto smiled absently, hand ruffling his brother's spiky hair. It was these little displays of affection that belied the cold exterior he showed to the world, and Mokuba cherished them all the more for their rarity.
Once his brother than left, however, Kaiba turned back to his work. He needed to speak with Amelda, but even as he picked the phone up and dialed the numbers written on the paper, he wondered what he could say. The phone rang once and then he lost his nerve and hung up before it was answered. It was six in the morning; he had probably woken Amelda up.
Finally realizing that he'd already decided what he was going to do, Kaiba picked the phone up again and called his secretary. "Rearrange any meetings I have today. I'll be gone for a while, so if anyone asks for me you know what to do," he said tersely. She was used to it and knew better than to ask for any reasons.
"If someone by the name of Amelda asks for me, contact me immediately. Otherwise, under no conditions do I want to talk to anyone, with the exception of Mokuba, until further notice, do you understand? I don't care if it's the CEO of Industrial Illusions that wants me." His secretary made some appropriate remark and he hung up, amazed this one had been around for a month so far.
Within the next half hour he found himself standing in front of a very decent, though small, house. It was in a nice residential district and there were children playing on the street, which Kaiba found odd. He couldn't imagine Amelda fitting in here, not with his biker ways and nonconformist clothing and personality.
He rang the doorbell after he realized he had just been standing there for a few minutes, staring at the roses growing in the front yard. Briefly the thought crossed his mind that it must look ridiculous for him to be here. Before he had time to dwell on this rather upsetting consideration, the door opened.
It was not Amelda. It was the blond-haired ruffian, another Doom biker that Kaiba faintly remembered as being Amelda's companion, that stood looming in the doorway glaring at him. Evidently he had been sleeping when Kaiba's early morning visit woke him, and he was not a good mood. Recognition and surprise flashed in his blue eyes before they examined him warily. "Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for Amelda," Kaiba replied. Damned if he'd say why. Somehow the thought that he still lived with his biker friend was even more bizarre than the fact that they had chosen to live here, in this house.
"Raph, who is it?" Well, now, Kaiba thought. He should've expected it. The owner of the Australian accent appeared, looking annoyed at being woken up. His eyes widened when he saw Kaiba. "It's the bloke that Amelda's all hung up over!"
"I need to see him," Kaiba said calmly. "He left me this address."
"Amelda gave it to you?" the newcomer asked, looking as if he were about to close the door in Kaiba's face. The disbelief was insultingly clear in his tone. "He's not here."
"Varon," the blond said warningly.
Kaiba ignored him and focused on Varon. "Do you know where he is?"
Varon shrugged. "Could be anywhere. We don't answer to each other."
Forced to honesty and not wanting to continue this conversation longer than he needed to, Kaiba snapped out, "I need to find him. It's about his brother."
"His brother?" If anything, Raphael seemed more hostile. "From what I know, Amelda wants you dead for what you did to his brother."
It took just a moment for Kaiba to look past the words. "You know, don't you?" He stared at the blond, angry at the waste of time. "You know where Amelda is."
"What did you tell him about his brother? Amelda hasn't been the same."
"His brother's alive," Kaiba said absently, realizing that they were only trying to protect their friend.
"You're lying. Amelda saw his brother killed before his eyes. As in, killed by tanks from KaibaCorp," Raphael said coldly.
"I'm not here to explain myself to you," Kaiba said, matching him in tone. "Now are you going to tell me where he is or do you want him to wait for my news?"
Varon considered him for a long time. Kaiba stared back, wondering at the strange kind of friendship between the three. Just as he was about to lose his patience, he got the answer he wanted.
"He's at the orphanage down the street."
o - o - o - o -
Evidently Amelda went there often to spend time with the children. Kaiba was beginning to get a better grasp of his former opponent's personality, though he was still puzzled. The image that he had of Amelda in his mind didn't include time at an orphanage, or the de facto 'family' that he had encountered in that very normal house.
Amelda was just coming out as he arrived. He tensed with surprise as he saw Kaiba, and for a moment his eyes flickered down to the covered arm.
Kaiba gritted his teeth as he remembered how intimately Amelda knew his secrets. That small, careless accident had led to this virtual stranger finding out about something stupid he'd done in the past. He'd shown him how weak he'd been, succumbing to something that he reviled himself for, even now. Amelda knew what no one else did, save Mokuba.
But Kaiba was discovering secrets, too. Finding him at an orphanage—it belied the bitter exterior that Amelda showed to the world. So he met the grey gaze unflinchingly.
"Come with me to KaibaCorp," was all he said.
o - o - o - o -
Kaiba's private office reflected his opulence while still being stylish and elegant. It was, Amelda thought, exactly what he would have expected. One side of the room offered a stunning view of the entire city through its clear glass. Of course, Kaiba had instinctively grasped the unexplainable correlation between height and power. KaibaCorp's tower was the highest in the city and this office was on the top floor, despite the time he must waste every day coming up here. Amelda looked around in undisguised assessment, but privately he knew he was just stalling.
"Why have you brought me here?" he asked Kaiba, who had sat down and yet managed to retain an aura of arrogance. It shouldn't have surprised him; after all, he was in the heart of Kaiba's kingdom.
"I thought you wanted to see your brother again?" Kaiba said airily, infusing the words with a sense of casual indolence.
"You've found him?" Amelda's voice grew sharper with his anxiety, and he tried not to overreact to those careless words. Kaiba was enjoying this game, damn him, but he had no choice but to play along. "Where is he?"
"I'm bringing him in. Have a seat," Kaiba said, gesturing at the chair across the table. Amelda reluctantly did so, hating the amused blue eyes that took in his every reaction.
A few minutes passed, during which he froze into stillness, painfully aware that Kaiba's eyes were still on him, watching. At last, he couldn't quite contain himself anymore. "Am I the new object for your cruelty, Kaiba?"
"I'm doing you a favor, remember?" was the cool reply.
Amelda stood up and turned to the door as if to leave, hearing the almost soundless scrape of Kaiba's chair as the other stood as well. Whatever Kaiba might have said or done to prevent him from walking out was lost, because at that moment the door opened, and three people came in.
He was half hidden between the two men in suits, obviously employees of KaibaCorp, and there was a sullenness to his stance that suggested that he had been brought here against his will.
"Miruko…" Amelda whispered, too stunned to step forward, to do anything. He looked at the troubled young teenager before him and the grey eyes that would have matched his identically, if the color were a little darker. The hair was more red than his own dark magenta, but even so, the resemblance was unmistakable.
o - o - o - o -
Now edited and slightly revised. As always, please review! Thanks - E.D.