Mokuba's Plan

By Pearl of the Dark Age

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh does not belong to me, myself, and I. But Yoshi and Yoko Kiyosaki are my original characters. Do not use without permission.

Chapter 14

"Wow! Seto Kaiba wearing an all-black Armani suit? (13) I never thought I would see the day!" Yoko teased as Seto approached the Kiyosakis. She often spoke her mind with even less tact than her husband.

"You said to dress formal," Seto reminded her. The lukewarm air felt lovely as a breeze swept by with a hint of jasmine in the summer night. Seto was relieved to find Yoshi and Yoko so easily. There was a crowd standing in a long line dressed like they were going to the Oscars. (1) Yoshi stood beside his wife. Because he was just a foot shorter than her, his head barely reached the top of her bare shoulders. "You look nice," Seto politely returned to Yoko.

"Thank you! It's a Versace," (13) she said, pretending to blush with her hands on her cheeks.

Not that I care, Seto thought. Why am I here again? They stood outside a stately looking building that Seto thought looked like a made-over opera house. The fancy sign above the entrance read in kanji: Bishonen-ai.

Yoshi looked Seto over. "You always have a good eye for style," Yoshi complimented. "I like that white suit you wear with the blue tie."

"Or the dark blue coat with the teal shirt…" Yoko added. "I never would put blue and teal together, but you pull it off well. Are you sure you aren't batting for the other side?" she asked casually.

"Batting for the other side? What are you talking about?" Seto was perplexed.

"Gay," she said with a cute smile. "Yoshi bats for both sides."

"Yeah," Yoshi grinned, "but I retired when I married." He laughed at his own joke.

"You can't be serious," Seto told Yoko heatedly. "Yoshi has already asked a dozen times, and I've told him a dozen times no."

"Okay," Yoko chirruped. "You don't need to get defensive."

Seto ignored this last comment. He had been feeling anxious since the day when he saw Amelda. It was only a brief moment, but Seto replayed it again and again in his mind. He had not given the man much thought since he dueled Dartz. Seto remembered how when he was dueling the anachronistic lunatic he wanted to win not just to get his company back, but for revenge for Amelda, too. Amelda had entrusted him with the future, and he did his best to save it. After the whole ordeal was over, Seto had shunted the memory to the dark recesses of his mind, and was easily distracted by Bakura's invitation to Egypt.

Now that Seto had seen the psychotic pacifist again, he found himself waking up to sheets soaked in sweat and other body fluids - just like so many years ago. He knew there was a connection to the state of his bed and actually seeing Amelda again, but he did not permit himself to let it solidify in his consciousness. Trivial…

"How long do we have to stand in line?" Seto asked impatiently. He could think of a million other things he could be doing right now. Yoshi went over the seating procedures and the security checks. He had explained it all before, but it was not necessary to repeat since Seto was only being rhetorical.

"Seto, do you think it's too much red?" Yoko interrupted, referring to her cocktail dress.

You look like you're wearing Dorothy's ruby-slippers in dress form, (14) Seto thought. Choosing to twist the truth to the ridiculous occasion, he said, "It's suitable for tonight."

"Oh… thank you," she said uncertainly.

The front doors of Bishonen-ai opened, and the line proceeded in a self-restrained orderly fashion. Seto had a good look around as they entered and were checked for cameras and camera phones - since they were prohibited. The foyer looked like a museum with its copious paintings and statues on display. They moved into the auditorium, which was a cross between a regal theater and a modern club. There were rows of semi-circle plush booths with semi-circle glass tables. The woodwork was done in polished black walnut and carved like antique Italian furniture. Each row was raised a slight level above the one preceding it like in a theater and facing the large stage in the front with the classic scarlet curtain. There were chandeliers accenting the vaulted ceiling.

"Alright," Seto said aloud. "I'll admit it: I am impressed. But I still don't want to be here."

"Aren't I your only friend, Seto?" Yoshi asked. "If you can't trust me… forget that! You should trust me!"

Seto chose not to reply to this. Instead, he inquired, "Why are there shugi-bukuro here?" noting the fancy envelopes decoratively embellished with silver and gold strings resting in a container at the outer edge of the table. Alongside the shugi-bukuro were little menus that listed wines, spirits, and hors d'oeuvre.

"You put money into them just like you do at weddings! You write the name of the dancer here," Yoshi elaborated, "and the waiters come around and collect them. This is how you show appreciation for your favorite dancer! My favorite is Zen! I give him 100,000 yen for each dance, but he only shows up a few times." Yoshi explained. He paused when a waiter came and took their orders.

"How much do you give the others?" Seto asked once the order was filled. A 100,000 yen was not much to Seto.

"Oh… between ten and fifty thousand," Yoshi replied. "But not to everyone! It depends on how much I like them. I always give something to new dancers or for a new dance routine."

"They redo old dance routines? Doesn't that get boring?"

"Oh no! Old routines are usually 'fillers' in a show. Still, they are pretty good. Some are classics! Zen, for instance, he-"

"Yoshi!" Seto interrupted, "Shut up! I hear you talk about this Zen every time I see you! The only exception is the time we had lunch the other day!"

"There's no need to take that tone with my darling," Yoko said maternally.

Seto felt a twinge of guilt and decided to shut up himself. He was grateful at times to have someone to converse with other than his brother. Mokuba was only thirteen, after all, and it helped Seto to know that there was a mature adult that he could trust.

"Here's a dumpling for my dumpling," Yoshi giggled as he hand-fed his wife once the food and drinks arrived.

"Oiishii," Yoko giggled back, stroking what hair remained on her husband's head. "You know I like dumplings," she cooed. It impressed Seto that they were both still madly in love with each other after 18 years of marriage. It also comforted Seto, though he did not really know why, that Yoko was so understanding of her husband's sexual orientation. For these reasons, he tolerated their irritating mushiness and kept his snarky comments to a bare minimum.

The curtains parted, the lights dimmed, and the show began. Seto started to relax. The bishonen onstage performed a variety of different dances to a variety of different music each with its own light show specially synchronized. Some were free-style dance to ambient music; others were more like the sort of modern dances seen in underground clubs busting moves to everything ranging from disco and hip-hop to gothic and techno. There was even one number that was a ballet. But there was always only one dancer per number. The name and number of an upcoming dance were displayed by a scrolling marquee above the stage. It's all very well organized, Seto thought, and artistic. The dancers must make a lot in commissions.

"Zen is up next!" Yoshi squealed, hugging his wife and hanging onto Seto's sleeve. The curtains closed on the present dancer when the music faded. They opened again a moment later to reveal a dark stage. The song that started was a mix between mellow-dramatic gothic and techno while the lights slowly increased in luminosity. Zen stood stock still until the first heavy beat and began to dance. Seto was hypnotized. He had never seen anything like it. "He's really flexible…" Seto said aloud in awe, without realizing it.

"You know, I think that is why he's so good," Yoko agreed. "I love the costume. It has to been hand made, of course. It must have taken weeks to put together all those crystals."

All those crystals? Seto thought. They barely cover anything!

"I like the legs!" Yoshi proclaimed proudly. He turned to Seto, fulfilling his duty as number one fan to a newbie. "The gloves are a trademark. He always wears them."

"Yes, I know," Seto murmured. He immediately recognized the redheaded dancer with elbow-high satin gloves as Amelda. They were not the same gloves as when Seto dueled him. But Seto imagined Amelda to keep a whole drawer full of arm-length gloves and warmers.

Seto started to feel hot and uncomfortable. He shifted his weight a little in his seat and kept his eyes glued to the enchanting rhythms of flesh onstage. He could not look away even if he wanted to. Once the song was over and the curtain closed again, Seto came out of his reverie into shock. Amelda? Here! Seto's mind reeled with flashbacks of his encounters with the pacifist, and tidbits of past dreams snaked their way into consciousness. No… this can't be happening! Not me…

As the night wore on and Amelda did not return to the stage, Seto started to sort out mixed emotions. Yoshi had immediately filled his shugi-bukuro when Zen was first announced by the marquee, and now he fidgeted because his favorite did not return.

"Why don't we leave now?" Seto tried to ask as casually as he could. It had taken everything in him to keep a straight face after Amelda's number ended. "We've been here several hours already."

"I always stay until happy hour starts!" Yoshi said. "Here happy hour is when they close the stage at 02:00 and start the porn. Then Bishonen-ai closes at 03:00."

"Porn!" Seto exclaimed, "I thought you said this place was sophisticated?"

"Look around," Yoko said. "It is sophisticated. Besides, this is not porn that you're used to-"

"I don't watch porn!" Seto defended. It was true. He thought it was a waste of time.

"It is considered to be the best of the best," Yoshi finished for his wife.

"Is it gay porn?" Seto asked, before he could stop himself.

"Naturally," Yoshi said, smiling. "But we won't stay to watch it. It's for the drunkards who need another hour to sober up. Bishonen-ai stops serving alcohol at 01:00."

Seto shut up. He decided that he could weather the rest of the night out. He was counting on Zen's reputation for elusiveness. Just as he formulated this plan, the marquee announced Zen.

"He's back!" Yoshi squealed again. He hung on Seto's sleeve and hugged his wife, again. The curtain parted to reveal a brightly lit stage of flashing colors and a heavy industrial music began. Amelda was wearing shiny red shorts, matching boots, and gloves. That was not the most remarkable thing about his appearance. He had chains wrapped around his chest and sported them like a belt. Handcuffs tied him to two post and he was blindfolded. When the song kicked in the trick handcuffs broke in the center of their chains and he performed gyrating moves with seductiveness and flare - all while blindfolded! The audience ooed and awed like at a fireworks show.

Yoshi was beside himself. But it was nothing compared to what Seto felt. No thoughts of escape entered Seto's brain. There was no room for thought in his head as he gaped open-mouthed, his body filled with tingles and sensations in exponential form. He was hooked, lined, and sunk. Several times Amelda came near the edge of the stage, but never once tripped or fell off.

When the curtains closed, Seto did not move for several minutes. He did not see the next dancer - an immediate replay in his brain had started and overlapped his vision.

"Wow!" Yoko breathed. "That last one was brilliant! And sexy… I've never seen that one before! What did you think, Seto? …Seto?"

"Leave him alone," Yoshi advised sagely. "Let him have his moment."

It took another quarter of an hour before Seto came out of his reverie. He turned to Yoko and Yoshi and resumed conversing with them as if nothing had happened. Things were quite pleasant. The Kiyosakis were wise enough not to say anything right away. But Yoshi could not help himself after a couple more hours. "I wonder if Zen will return tonight," he wondered aloud. It was after midnight now. "His average is only two or three a night. So, if we stick around for the rest of the night," he winked at Seto, "we might get to see him again!"

"I'd rather eat henbane and perform a hara-kiri (7) before I see him again!" Seto said vehemently.

Yoko and Yoshi looked shocked by this pronouncement. "Ano," Yoko said, looking at the stage, "you better start sharpening your dagger." Seto involuntarily glanced at the marquee. Sure enough, Zen was returning to the stage for the third time. Yoshi gasped when he recognized the music that started before the curtains parted.

"I love this one!" Yoshi shrieked like a school girl.

A gothic-techno club mix, lots of black leather and straps, and a whip… This was all Seto registered before he was lost in blissful oblivion. He loved the way Amelda smiled as he danced. Complete confidence… he was really enjoying himself up there cracking that whip and dancing his best. He wore a hat that was once popular with heavy metal rock stars in the eighties. And when it fell off (deliberately), Amelda performed a couple of cool moves to retrieve it while indulging his screaming fans with a kinky wink.

The fans had lost themselves with this "classic" as Yoshi had called it. Sophistication dissolved into carnal desire. When it was over all too soon, everyone moaned their disappointment that it had ended, clapped their appreciation, and scrambled to stuff their shugi-bukuro. "Care to contribute?" Yoshi asked, holding an envelope under Seto's nose. He was brought painfully out of his fantasy. He stared at the envelope blankly. Seto had a momentary out-of-body experience. I am giving Amelda money, Seto thought. The man tried to steal my soul, and I'm giving him money. He put a large amount of bills - cash only was the house-rule - into the shugi-bukuro, and had no regrets when it was collected a few minutes later.

Seto sank back into his seat. He had no idea how he could deny how he felt. He knew what he was thinking. He knew how his body had reacted. He could only think of one thing to do. "Excuse me," he said courteously to Yoshi, "I need to use the men's room."

Yoshi bit his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything. Seto was gone for ten minutes, and Yoko suggested that Yoshi go and check on him. Reluctantly, he got up and went to the men's to find that Seto was leaning over a sink, breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?" Yoshi asked. He was grateful that there was no one else present. Seto was a tough nut to crack as it was.

"I'm fine," Seto replied. He sounded fine.

"Seto," Yoshi began tenderly, "if there is something you would like to tell me, I'll understand."

Seto blinked. He did not look up or respond in any other way. "There's nothing…" he said slowly. "I just needed…"

"…to relieve yourself," Yoshi finished helpfully. Mistake! Seto flushed a deep, crimson red and gave Yoshi the deadliest of glares.

"NOTHING HAPPENED!" Seto boomed. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

They exited the restroom in silence and returned to the booth. Even though Seto's face was no longer red, Yoko could tell he was fuming and Yoshi was abashed. The rest of the night was uneventful for Seto - as he did not look at the stage but at a spot on the floor the entire time. Zen did not appear for a fourth time. By the time they left the establishment at 02:00 and were calling it a night, Seto was apparently back to normal as if nothing had happened. But, as they were pulling on car coats and saying good-nights, Yoko spoke up, "Seto, it is okay if you are gay. You can confide in us."

Seto gave her one scathing glare and yelled, "I am not gay!" much louder than he intended, causing other patrons nearby to flinch. And he marched off.

When Seto's retreating back was out of ear-shot, Yoko and Yoshi looked at each other and said simultaneously, "Denial."

A/N: Reviews please! Thank you very much!