Chapter Eight
Autumn Leaves
That night Seto came home with a strange look on his face.
Mokuba leapt from his armchair as soon as his brother walked into the hall. "Niisama the social worker came again."
Seto walked past him, into the library.
"Niisama!" Mokuba darted after him. This was important. He had just learned something this afternoon, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.
In the library, his older brother stood over a chess set placed carefully on a white, marble podium. His blue eyes were cold and lit. They glanced at Mokuba and burned right through him.
"Seto," said Mokuba, "the social worker brought someone. A woman." He swallowed. "She said her name was Tamako—she said she was our aunt."
Seto's face did not flicker. Something resembling a frozen smile was curled around his lips. He laid one long finger on a chess piece. The queen.
Mokuba felt uneasy. He didn't like his brother's mood; he couldn't read it. Did his brother know about his aunt and uncle? He must have.
A long time ago, before they met Gozaburo, Seto had mentioned some relatives who had stolen their inheritance and dumped them in the orphanage. Mokuba didn't remember that far back. He believed Seto, of course. But it never occurred to him their relatives still existed. Their relatives, like their parents, had always been something that was gone; something that Mokuba could not remember and that would not be coming back.
But the lady—their aunt—she came, she stood at the door, smiling at Mokuba. And she had their family name: the old one, the one they wore before they became Kaiba. She had brown hair and a soft voice and said she hoped they could all get along as one big, happy family.
Mokuba slammed the door on her.
Now, he marched over to the other side of the chessboard to look his brother in the eye. "Are they really going to adopt me?" he asked.
Seto lifted a hand.
Carelessly, as though swatting an insect, he swung his hand into the chess pieces. Mokuba ducked as pawns went flying. The pieces hit the bookshelves and clattered like falling rain. Seto picked up the board and calmly dropped it to the floor.
"Niisama, are you all right?" Mokuba asked.
Seto placed his duel deck on the podium, where the chessboard had been. The top card was a Blue-Eyed White Dragon.
"This is the third," he said.
Mokuba stared. "Three Blue-Eyed White Dragons?"
"As much as any deck can hold."
"But that means…"
"My deck is unbeatable." He lifted the top Blue Eyes card and watched it flicker in the light. "There is only one card that can threaten my deck now. The fourth Blue-Eyed White Dragon. But," he added, putting his card back down and straightening his deck, "I'll find that one soon enough."
Mokuba nodded, but his stomach twisted. "Um, the social worker?"
"Yes, about her. I have that all taken care of. The social worker won't be dropping by anymore, and Tamako won't bother you again."
"That…that was quick." He wanted to ask how he had done it, but Seto had that same possessed look he'd had when he said you could kill someone and get away with it. So Mokuba didn't ask.
Mokuba sank into an armchair and let out a loud sigh. It was over. His brother had taken care of the situation; they wouldn't be separated.
Mokuba jumped to his feet. "This is great! We should celebrate. Let's go out for ice cream!"
But Seto had already taken out his laptop. His eyes were fixed on the glowing screen.
"Niisama?"
Typing echoed: the faint tap, tap, tap, like a rapid heartbeat, and the rest of the library was quiet.
Mokuba sat next to his brother, legs crossed. They would be together. That was all that mattered.
"School went well," Mokuba told Seto. "I got my math test back. I only missed two out of 56, and it was a hard test. The teacher said my grade was the best in the class."
The tap, tap, tap replied. Mokuba picked at a fallen chess piece lying on the carpet.
"And you were right about the bullies," he told his brother. "They didn't bother me anymore." He rolled the chess piece around with one finger, over and over, as though rolling clay. "They actually came up to me and apologized. It turns out they play Cap Monsters. They showed me their collection at lunch, and…."
Mokuba realized the tapping had stopped.
"What did you say?" His brother's voice was low.
Mokuba looked up. Seto was staring at him, his eyes dark.
"They play Cap Monsters," said Mokuba uncertainly.
"They hurt you, humiliated you, and stole from you," said Seto. "They're your enemies, Mokuba, not your friends; you can't trust them."
"I know that Niisama…"
"You don't know," Seto snapped. His fist clenched. For a moment, his eyes shone livid, bright and clear.
Then they frosted. His face became calm, frozen and blank.
"They made you look weak," his brother said. "Weak. Like a helpless puppy who barks and barks when children throw rocks at it, then runs off with its tail between its legs."
Mokuba felt like he'd been punched. "I…"
"And now you want to make friends with your enemies?"
Seto smiled. That brief, malicious curl of the lips that sent a chill through Mokuba, sharp as an electric shock.
"You're too nice."
0 0 0
Mokuba couldn't remember his parents. His earliest memory was the day his father died.
He remembered playing in a pile of red leaves his brother had scooped up for him. He crumbled them in his hand and threw the pieces into the air.
"More leaves," he yelled.
Seto laughed. "That's all that's in the yard." But he went to work, raking up what remained.
Mokuba jumped deep into the leaves. They brushed roughly against his face and made him sneeze. He dived down deeper, feeling secret and safe.
Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him out. Mokuba twisted, but the man wouldn't let go. The man had blue eyes. Mokuba began crying, because of the leaves and his arm.
"Mokuba be quiet!" his brother snapped. Mokuba stopped. His brother's face was pale and contorted. "What did you just say?" Seto asked the man.
"You're father's dead," said the man with blue eyes.
After that, Mokuba couldn't remember very well. The days blurred together, into crying and yelling and slamming of doors. It was Seto who yelled; his brother didn't cry, never cried, he just yelled and screamed, yelled and screamed at Mokuba to stop crying all the time like a stupid baby. Then suddenly, Seto became quiet.
He became quiet around the time they came to the orphanage.
Mokuba could remember the orphanage more clearly. The white, clean house and the rows of beds, girls playing ring-around-the-rosy on the lawn while the boys scooped up the leaves and jumped in them. They asked him if he wanted to play. Mokuba shook his head and clung to Seto's arm. They asked Seto.
"No," he said. "My brother doesn't want to."
The first few days, Mokuba wouldn't let go of Seto. Every time someone took his brother away, he would scream. He was afraid if his brother left him, he wouldn't return.
Then, one day, the administrator wanted Seto to talk to some people. Later, Mokuba would learn they were a couple interested in adopting him. What Mokuba remembered at the time was that his brother was gone for hours and hours. He screamed as loud as he could, but when his brother still hadn't returned, he started to cry.
And suddenly his brother was there.
"Don't worry," Seto said. "It's all right."
Mokuba hugged his brother, but he couldn't stop crying.
"It's alright," said Seto again, in a calm, reassured voice. "I won't let them separate us."
"Promise?" asked Mokuba. His voice was muffled in Seto's shirt.
"I promise," said Seto.
Mokuba let go and tried to wipe his eyes. Seto put his hand on Mokuba's shoulder.
"Don't cry Mokuba," Seto told him. "One day, I'll let you lead a good life."
Mokuba looked up. His brother's face was kind, but his eyes were serious. Seto bent down, and said, in a low voice, as though it was a secret,
"That's why we can't be nice to anyone. If we allow others to see our weakness, we're done for."
Mokuba nodded. Seto smiled.
"I'll take care of you, Mokuba," he said. "No matter what. And I won't let anyone separate us. Ever."
0 0 0
Mokuba shot to his feet.
"You didn't let me finish," he said. "The only reason I talked to those stupid morons was to find out their weakness."
The slight, eerie smile left his brother's face. Seto's eyes tilted high, skeptical and cold.
"You see," Mokuba continued, his voice rising, "now that I know they play Cap Monsters, I can use it to trap them. I bet I'm a better player than they are!"
"I hope so," said Seto dryly over his shoulder. He turned back to his laptop. "Don't play if you're going to lose."
Mokuba's face flushed. "I won't lose! I'm not weak!"
The tap, tap, tap resumed.
"I won't lose," Mokuba muttered. He clenched his fist.
"I have to beat them myself," Mokuba told Seto. Told the laptop computer; told the tall bookshelves, the cracked pawns lying across the rug. "I have to show them I'm strong. And I can never trust them."
But why did it have to be that way? There was an acid sloshing in Mokuba's stomach. Conscious.
More weakness.
Mokuba kicked the pawns, kicked the tassels of the rug, scuffed his shoe across the wooden floor 'til it burned. Damn. He couldn't be weak. Not again.
Mokuba your performance out there was not admirable. How many times did you let them beat you up?
Eventually, he became tired of kicking things. He began sweeping the chess pieces in a pile near the chessboard with his shoe; the maid would pick everything up the next morning.
And in morning, Mokuba would talk to the bullies. He would pretend to be their friend. He would get them to show him their monsters. He'd lure them back to the mansion, like his brother had shown him. Then, he would….
He would destroy them.
Mokuba shivered. He glanced at his brother. Seto's face was buried behind the laptop, the click of the keyboard unceasing, the faint whirl of the hard drive loading up. The fireplace cracked, but Mokuba's fist felt cold.
Deep down…where Mokuba didn't want to admit…where he couldn't admit…he didn't care one way or the other about the bullies; the way they had beat and pushed him and punched him didn't hurt anymore compared to this, and deep down Mokuba wasn't angry.
He was scared.