Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.
The Waiter
I think I've finally found my true style, trench coats.
Not just regular trench coats, but custom designed to flair at the bottom with the slightest breeze or movement. Yes, definitely my style. I have eight made, two each in blue, white, purple and black. With their inception and senior year, I also change my wardrobe. Gone are the blue and white Domino High School uniforms. The principle can't force me to wear them because he's afraid of my father. And me. Now I clothe myself in black, dark blue or brown dress pants and white, purple, black and blue button down or pullover shirts.
Senior year is positive for me in other ways as well. Gozaboro decides to practically move in with his girlfriend, so he's home much less, which means fewer confrontations and fewer bruises and pain. With him gone, I pretty much run the mansion and make sure to change a lot of things in its operation. For one thing, I stop the house staff from doing that groveling shit that Gozaboro had them doing. They can bow, if they want to, and I expect some modicum of respect, but otherwise I don't want them acting like I'd kill their families if they break a dish or stain a carpet.
Now, if they mess up one of my trench coats…
I laugh to out loud at my own joke, startling the juniors around me. I'd been picked to give this particular group the school tour, but we were still waiting for two more kids, transfers from a high school in Hokkaido. I think one of their parents got promoted to their company's headquarters here in Domino, probably that publishing house/production company across town. They're the only company with headquarters based here other than Kaiba Corp. Gozaboro chased everyone else headquartered here out of town, but he didn't think the publishing house posed any threat to him, so he left them alone.
I know they don't work for us as it's my part of my job to know all new personnel and I haven't seen any Yoshida's on the list for the last few months.
I check my watch again, now getting annoyed. Where the hell are those two? They're going to make us all late for classes! I look up to see three forms hurrying our way, the assistant principal and the two tardies.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kaiba!" the ditz gushes and I instantly know the problem.
"You forgot they were out there, didn't you," I assess snidely. Gods, why they kept this woman on the payroll…
"I'm so sorry! I just got a little distracted and…"
"Whatever," I dismiss, holding up my hand to silence her. Through my fingers I catch an eye roll and a snort from the shorter of the two juniors.
"Something to say Yoshida?" I taunt.
"Just thinking the same thing you are, 'what a ditz'…" he retorts with a smirk.
I've laughed out loud before I catch myself, amused by his boldness.
"It's not proper to call the assistant principal a ditz, Yoshida," I counter, scowl back in place. "That will cost you detention with your senpai, me. And trust me, it won't pleasant."
I spin on my heels and begin the tour.
When Yoshida fails to appear for his detention that afternoon, I make sure that he understands his mistake first thing the next morning with thirty laps around the track, toilet-scrubbing duty after lunch and the obligatory thousand lines of 'I will not…' during his detention time in the afternoon. He takes it all in stride, without complaint, which intrigues me. I'd never encounter such strength of will outside of myself, not even from Valon. From that day on, I find myself unconsciously monitoring him, noting how he handles various situations and challenges.
Like those rotten Tanaka twins. They have a tendency to harass all new students until a senior or teacher steps in or until the student breaks. It's an unseasonably warm November day when they make their move on the shorter of the two brothers, a spitfire with odd crimson eyes and spiked, multi-colored hair, who stands about at my shoulder. They'd stepped to the taller one, a slim blonde with brown eyes, close to my height, last month and he'd beat them both down with an impulsive fury so fast, I had to laugh. Obviously they hadn't done their homework or they may have decided not to go after the shorter one.
Then again, had they done their homework, like I did, it wouldn't have helped any. Joey and Atem Yoshida, 17, adopted sons of Kei and Hana Yoshida, born in Honolulu, Hawaii (Joey) and Cairo, Egypt (Atem). One adopted at age 2 (Joey), the other at age 3 (Atem). Both considered "bright" students, Joey with an aptitude for statistics and analysis, Atem gifted with genius level skill in math and technology. None of that tells what kind of people they were, what kind of fighters.
That's why I'm studying them. Well, just Atem. Joey seems much less complicated.
So the Tanaka's approach Atem as he sits outside eating his lunch. He bests the first one easily, but finds himself at a disadvantage height-wise with the second one. Like the few other students around, I just watch for a few minutes as he does his best not to get hurt too badly. I figure his brother will be along in a minute to give them the beat down of their lives so I won't need to interfere.
"You'd better leave Yoshida alone," one of the freshmen screams at them, "His brother will be out here in a minute!"
"Ha!" the older Tanaka barks. "No he won't! He's holed up in the infirmary with a broken nose from gym! I know because I gave it to him during soccer!"
At that revelation, the freshman's face falls, as does Yami's. Now I know he was just stalling for time and is really no match for these guys. Time to end this.
I step from my shadowed vantage point and advance menacingly toward them, today's black custom trench billowing dangerously behind me.
"Oh shit!" the elder and shorter Tanaka exclaims, ceasing in his blows to Atem's mid-section. "It's Kaiba!"
The younger, taller Tanaka drops Atem from where he'd been holding him by his wrists and they both turn to run. As if they could escape me.
I grab the elder Tanaka first, delighting in the crunch of bone cracking as my fist connects in rage with his jaw. Then I whirl on the stunned younger sibling, bringing him down with a knee to the groin and then taking his right hand and bending it back at the wrist. Not satisfied with the crunch of bones breaking at his wrist, I snap two of his fingers and his thumb for good measure and then turn to Atem, leaving them howling and writhing on the ground in pain.
As I kneel to check him over, his ashen pallor disturbs me. As does the minute tremors in his body.
"Yoshida?" I call lightly. His eyes roll back and he passes out. Shit! They must have hurt him worse than I thought. I note that the tremors are more pronounced and realize what they are; he's going into shock. I cover him with my coat, pull out my cell and call for the Kaiba Corp. ambulatory helicopter. After being assured of their coming and that they have all of the information at hand, I look around at the gathering crowd to find someone to go find Joey. I spot the freshman who yelled out about him earlier.
"You!" I command. "Go find Yoshida's brother and tell him what's happened. Tell him his brother will be in the Kaiba wing of Domino Memorial Hospital! Go now!"
"Y-yes, sir!" he stutters before running off. Spotting two more freshmen, I give them the same instructions. One of them should be able to find him.
As the helicopter lands on the soccer field nearby, I carefully pick up Atem and head that way.
"What about those two?" a random student asks me as I walk by.
Without pausing or turning around, I reply, "Fuck 'em!"
Five hours later, Atem is awake, but groggy from the pain meds after the emergency surgery to remove his ruptured spleen. His parents and Joey are gathered around in relief. I watch them from the door for a minute more before heading off to work for the evening.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Thank you, Mr. Kaiba," I hear.
Looking up from my lunchtime read of the Financial Times, I see the deeply bowed blonde mop of Joey Yoshida.
"I was glad to help," I reply, smoothly, "And you don't have to bow. Or call me 'Mr. Kaiba'. Just 'Kaiba' is fine."
He straightens up, brown eyes watery.
"My family can't thank you enough, Kaiba. The surgeon said you saved Atem's life. Another few minutes and he would have bled to death. My parents want to know what they can do to repay you, other than reimbursing you for the medical bills, of course."
"That won't be necessary," I wrinkle my brow. "I don't want their money."
"It's true that we're not as rich as you, Kaiba," he snips, "but we don't need your charity. My parents and I will pay you back every cent. I promise. They just wanted to do something in addition to that."
"Charity?" I growl at him. "I'm not offering charity. Haven't you heard of kindness? Generosity? Are these words foreign to you?"
"No!" He snaps, that impulsive rage back online, "But they are to Kaiba Corp.!" He yells. "And everyone in Japan knows that any so-called 'kindness' from Kaiba Corp. is expected to be reciprocated!"
I stand then, furious that yet again I'm invisible to people and they only see that bastard Gozaboro.
"I'm not Kaiba Corp.!" I scream at the top of my lungs, silencing all activity in the cafeteria. "I'm not that bastard Gozaboro either! I'm just Seto! Why can't you people understand that!"
I storm away, leaving the school in a rage. Halfway down the block from the school, I call the limo to pick me up.
"Where to, Mr. Kaiba?"
"Domino Memorial."