Holy Crud this was a long chapter. Hopefully there aren't any glaring mistakes that I missed in the writing of this, since I dumped it all out in two days.
Trigger warning for mentions of abuse and blood.
((✦✧✦✧))
"One hand out and in, Miss Kaiba. Do I need to repeat myself again?!"
I grit my teeth and do my sixth round of chaîné turns. It was not going to be fun having to do my etiquette class after this, I already felt the soreness numbing the tips of my feet.
Twenty more minutes of torture later, my two hour long class finally ended and I collapsed into a nearby chair as my demon of a ballet teacher packed up and left without another word. Old hag was never satisfied with how much I could perfect in a day.
"Mary," I called, and the older woman walked to my side.
Mary was the maid they assigned to me, the term 'maid' used loosely as she was technically part of my etiquette training, along with working to keep me on schedule and make sure I was behaving rather than to really serve me.
"Yes, Miss Kaiba?" She asked.
"Can I please have some water." I asked, exhausted. We didn't keep water bottles in the house because they were 'unsightly', so everything had to be done with porcelain and glass, which made it significantly harder to carry around with me. Thus, I had to depend on Mary to help me with this.
"May I please have a glass of water." She corrected immediately, unmoving from my side.
I closed my eyes, trying my best not to lose my temper. Calm down Risana...Just a few more hours.
I dragged my hand down my face, trying to keep myself alive enough to think rather than react based on how shitty I felt at the moment. Mary wouldn't leave anyway until I asked 'properly'.
"May. I. Please. Have a glass. Of water." I grit out, struggling to keep my tone 'light and polite' like how she always told me to.
"Yes, Miss Kaiba." She responded, and handed over a cup of water. I took it and forced myself to drink it in smaller increments, knowing that it would be revoked if I gulped it down the way I wanted to.
I had only been in this cursed mansion for a month, and I was slowly being worn down. Apparently whatever 'manners' I did have weren't enough for Gozaburo Kaiba, and he put me into an intensive etiquette program along with school studies the day after we arrived. Seto, Mokuba, and I's entire weeks were filled to the brim with schedules and learning, with our only free time allocated for about eight hours at night-although Mokuba was allowed more freedom in that aspect.
My body wasn't made for this type of endurance, and I could feel the constant weariness settling in my bones. Luckily we were fighters, and I wasn't planning on going down any time soon.
Someone knocked on the door, and I sighed. Sitting up even straighter, I quickly comb my hand through my hair and make sure I'm presentable before calling out "Enter."
Pressing my face into an amicable smile, I put my cup on the side table as my hellish etiquette teacher arrived.
Madame Lonsdale took one look at me, and instantly clicked her tongue.
"Get up. A proper woman must greet her guests as they arrive." I stand up, trying to remember past lessons as Lonsdale walks closer.
"Chin up." She ordered, moving her long, metal correction wand underneath my chin.
I lift it up to what I remember as the proper amount, and she moves on to tap it against the back of my legs. "Too wide, narrow them. Point your feet and shift your weight."
Thus, another two hours of Hell began. We practiced dinner manners, silverware, reading postures, and professional greetings before time was up.
As the Madame left, I fell back into the chair, only to be met with a hiss of disapproval by Mary.
This time, I ignore it and drink from my cup again, my throat dry from practicing polite speech for so long.
After a fast lunch, I finish four more classes before I'm finally dismissed for the day. I sludge into my room, Mary thankfully absent, and collapse onto my bed. Mokuba is at my desk, finishing up his homework.
"Risa-nee!" He exclaims, abandoning his worksheet to jump onto me. This was usually the only time we got to see each other besides occasionally at Breakfast and Dinner, if Gozaburo was home.
He knocks some of the air out of me, but I roll over and return the hug. Mokuba was typically the first one done with classes, and then me, and then Seto typically an hour or so later. No doubt he had the biggest course load as Gozaburo's heir apparent.
After taking a few minutes to cuddle Mokie, I get up and go into the bathroom to take a brief shower and finally relax.
I sigh as the hot water pours on me, easing my aches. Hesitantly, I look at my feet...and yup, those are some blisters and bruises for sure.
I grimace as I quickly finish cleaning myself, each step more painful now that I've noticed the state of my body. After changing into another nightgown, which seemed to be the only type of pajama they put in my closet, I walked out of the bathroom while toweling off my hair.
Mokuba had finished his homework and was on the bed doodling in one of my sketchbooks, so I sat at the desk and got out some bandages and medicine for my feet.
It only took me a minute to rub the minty smelling salve on, and it numbed my feet blissfully. Then, I wrapped the bandages around it and secured the ends, which made me feel a little bit better. Hopefully they'll heal quickly.
Putting the supplies away in their drawer, I pulled out the rest of my homework for the day and signed again, irrefutably tired.
The faster you do this, the faster you can sleep, the voice in my head encouraged. Couldn't argue with that logic. I had to stay awake long enough to see Seto come back anyway.
For another thirty or so minutes, Mokuba and I worked together quietly. I had just finished my third worksheet when I heard the door creak open.
Instantly, both of us perked up and turned around.
"Seto-nii!" Mokuba yells, clambering down the bed to give his brother a hug. At the same time, I stood up from my desk but wobbled a little. It took a second for me to adjust to the bandages on my feet before giving Seto a hug of my own.
He gave us both weak pats on the back before trudging over to the bed and collapsing face down onto the blankets.
Mokuba and I shared a look, before we sat on either side of Seto. Mokuba went back to his drawing, and I stroked my fingers through Seto's hair calmingly, trying to fight the concern in my chest.
My poor brother was even more overworked than I was, and he didn't have the experience of a past life to help deal with it either.
I got off the bed and started the water so the bathtub could fill before going back to my desk and returning to my homework. After a few minutes, I heard Seto groan as he got off the bed and then closed the bathroom door.
By the time he was done, I had finished off the last of my extra work. Typically at this time, Mokuba got tired, and so Seto and I both said goodnight to him as he went to his own room to sleep.
I go over to Seto's stack of textbooks and he tells me what his homework is, which usually consists of extra readings or math problems. He starts working on the latter, while I skim through the other chapters and help condense the information for him.
It's almost 12 am by the time we finish, and Seto and I play a speedy round of Duel Monsters to unwind before saying our goodnights. My deck is practically tailored to oppose Seto's cards, as he and Mokuba are the only ones that I ever play with. I put up a good fight, but as usual, Seto's cards are too strong and he wipes out my life points before I can finish drawing the trap I needed to defend myself.
I pout as we put the cards away, but Seto's small smile makes any bitter defeat worth it.
We say our goodnights before he goes back to his own room to sleep until he has to wake up at six in the morning.
I do the same, turning off the lights in my room and settling down in my own bed. We've all gotten more used to being apart from each other due to the circumstances, and all I could do was treasure the few moments we had together in the evenings or mornings.
The moon is bright tonight, and the light filters through my windows. It reminds me of simpler times, but that's all I think of before the fatigue crashes over me and I fall asleep.
(✦✧✦✧)
My fingers spasm, and I flinch as my flawless arpeggio shatters into out of tune chords. I use my other hand to clutch the offending one to my chest, anxiety rising in my throat as I realize it's completely numb and twitching uncontrollably.
My other hand cramps up from the action, and I hold back a yelp. My wrists are stiff but felt as if they were about to fall off at any minute, my back is taut with pain, and I'm trying my best to keep the tears out of my eyes.
Everything hurts, but the loss of feeling scares me even more.
My piano teacher, a retired no-nonsense world championship performer, gets up from his chair by me and extends a hand.
"Let me see", he says, voice lilted by a native French accent.
I cautiously direct my numb hand into his, trying to ignore the painful cramps in my other one. He looks it over, and uses his thumbs to press into certain areas. The small massages help lessen some of the twitching, and I sigh softly as feeling returns again.
"You need a wrist brace." He says, "You should see a doctor. We can not continue until it gets better."
I nod slowly, torn between relief and unease. I'm pretty sure if I played any more at the same intensity that I have been, my nerves would get permanently damaged. I was just worried about what would happen if I wasn't prepared in time for the upcoming national competition. It was only a month away.
Typically, it would have been impossible to make it this far so soon, but Gozaburo's influence had no bounds as the richest man in the country. In my past life, I had played a few years of piano, and so I wasn't a stranger to the basics. However, over the half a year at Gozaburo's mercy, I had been forced into rigorous training that accelerated me into higher brackets of performance.
I had no doubt that some measure of bribery or authority was involved, but I had trained for and won state the month before, and was now working on an even more elaborate piece to perform for the title of Japan's top pianist.
Truth be told, I don't think I would have any shot if it weren't for the fact of my age, and the lowered expectations. Of course, not to mention the hours spent a day preparing and practicing and re-practicing the perfection of just one composition, rather than traditionally enough for however many rounds there were. It was a completely bullshit ego-stroke for Gozaburo, but I was still here, slaving away on this damn piano until I cripple myself so that he could have another tool to leverage.
Class ended early, and I thanked my teacher as usual before Mary brought over the family doctor.
I had quite a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome, and he fitted me with a wrist brace, just as my teacher had recommended. After helping massage the cramp out of my other hand, giving me an ice pack, and prescribing me with some medication, the doctor sent me to my room to rest.
I laid on my bed in the dark, the heavy curtains let down to block out nearly all the sunlight, staring at the pulled red fabric of my canopy. The ice pack was on my wrist, and it helped slightly, although I could still feel the rhythmic throb of pain through every single one of my fingers' joints. My entire body was so tired.
There was only one time that I had dared to not succeed, and Gozaburo's rage afterwards was one I loathed to ever experience again.
If I think back though, I can't remember most of it. Just one furious flash of pain, and the next time I came to, I was in my bathtub, the faucet running and pink tinted water lapping at my knees. I was glad I couldn't remember the experience and that the marks eventually healed without a trace of a scar, but the pain had lingered with me for months until it did.
Even worse than any suffering of the flesh, however, I was put into isolation to work until I succeeded. Despite my complete frenzy to live and breathe work, it still took me another two months to redeem myself. Two months of not seeing my siblings, of being completely alone.
That was the longest I had ever gone in my life without them. And I would never let it happen again.
I tried to muster any bit of anger or sadness, but I didn't have any other chance to dwell further before I blacked out.
(✦✧✦✧)
A manila folder of pictures was laid out on the table in front of me. Snapshots of a variety of different men and women and children dressed in high-end clothing stared at me.
"What is this?" I questioned, looking up at Mary who had brought it over.
"All of the important guests that will be attending the Weber Charity dance in two weeks." She states, leaning over to organize the photos even more. "It's a very big event. You and your brothers will be going, and Mr. Kaiba expects you to know everyone there."
I look back at the pictures, quickly counting. There were at least 30 individual photos, and another 20 family ones, which I'm guessing were the less notable participants.
"In particular," Mary continues, picking out certain pictures from the rest, "Mr. Kaiba wants you to get acquainted with them."
In her selected line-up were six boys, each around my age, and each distinguishably dressed.
I felt my stomach drop.
"Is there a reason for that?" I ask cautiously.
"They are the sons of the most prominent men in attendance." Mary explains, and she goes down the list, telling me about their family and businesses.
Like she says, each of them are tremendously influential, despite most only being second or third in line for succession.
Well, to a certain extent, it was exactly what I had expected. Everything was a giant blur of classes and work, but it had been over a year now that we've been at the Kaiba mansion. I had seen the differences between Seto's training and mine. Seto worked on professional and strategic topics from business management and advanced mathematics, while I took more arts-enhancing courses like dance, piano, and Poetic English.
It was obvious that while my brother was being primed to take over the company, I was being groomed to be a perfect trophy wife that Gozaboru could marry off for more influence and connections. He already has two heirs, after all, I wasn't even considered useful as another spare.
Silently, I listened as Mary went through the portfolio, blankly trying to remember the slew of information. But it was going in one ear and out the other.
There was no escape. As I've been quickly realizing, I don't have a choice. In this or anything else. My will had been sold away the moment I became a Kaiba, and I would never have a taste of freedom again. I was a puppet, forced to bend to the will of whoever owned me.
Something twisted in my chest, and the pain almost made me breathless.
My whole life, gone. My future, a bargaining chip.
Don't think that way. This is not our end.
The knot in my chest unraveled, clarity spilling through me like sunlight on a cold day.
There is something else. We can think of a way out.
Yes. This certainly wasn't any dead end. If there's anything Seto and I have learned throughout the years, it's how to be crafty.
But for now, let's focus on how to get past this first burdensome task.
For two weeks, I worked on memorizing the names, appearances, and backgrounds of everyone going to the dance. I was still young enough that they didn't expect me to do any dancing, so at least I got out of that.
Finally, the night of the ball came.
It took an entire two hours for the maids to get me ready to their standards, but I wasn't complaining. It was certainly better and more relaxing than having to go perform my usual schedule, which had incidentally been cut in half for the day so that I could prepare for the event.
That fact alone made me feel more optimistic about the night, as socializing for a few hours would definitely be a welcome break from the usual grind.
By 6 pm, I met Seto and Mokuba at the front door, both of whom were sporting tailored suits.
"Risa-nee, your dress is so pretty!" Mokuba exclaimed as I came down the stairs. The dress in question is fairly formal, white with double layers and satin looped straps, tied off by a wide pink ribbon around the waist. I had on matching white flats and a small fake flower clipped into my hair, overall giving the illusion of a sweet little girl.
"Thanks Mokie!" I say as the butlers lead us out to the car. "I love your suit too!"
It's a muted shade of beige that flatters his dark hair. The cute little bow in the front matches his eyes, and Mokie blushes at the compliment. Seto, on the other hand, is wearing a matching white suit, also with a blue accent. It draws attention and exemplifies his features, and I wonder if that was the intention of the outfit.
We match, like a little set of dolls.
We get into the limousine, where Gozaburo is already waiting. At once, the atmosphere changes from excited and bubbly into something more mellow and somber.
Gozaburo's thick eyebrows pressed against his eyes sternly as we sat down, judging our appearance. It seems to be satisfactory, as he doesn't make a comment.
"You are all aware of the expectations for tonight's event, correct?" He asks as the limo pulls out of the mansion.
All three of us nodded.
"Good, I'm not paying those tutors to do nothing." He grunts.
The rest of the ride is suffered in silence, Mokuba looking out the window, Seto dazing off, and me staring at my hands. I still needed to sleep with the wrist brace on for a few more weeks, but I had mostly recovered otherwise.
Nervous? No, I'm not nervous.
Good...
The car slows to a stop, and we all look up, returning our attention to the present.
"Make sure to follow me." Gozaburo orders before the door is pulled open and he steps out. We all get out, and I make sure to straighten out my dress before starting off after Gozaburo and my brothers.
It's freshly night, and the night animals are beginning their symphony of noises. I can smell the flowers blooming nearby as we go up a wide set of marble stairs covered by a red carpet, flanked by soft but bright lanterns. Above, a giant, ornate mansion looms, sophistically brightened by well lights. I didn't get much of a chance to gawk though, as we were soon walking into the banquet hall.
The floor is crowded with people socializing, a few waiters weaving around and offering platters of snacks and drinks. Immediately, Gozaburo is in conversation with a nearby man. They exchange swift pleasantries, and then Gozabruo introduces us one by one.
We all give our greetings, and they engage in business talk. I know Seto is expected to listen in and understand the topics, but I quickly lose interest in the formal conversation. I stare around the banquet hall, taking in the glittering chandeliers and gold lighting. Everyone walked with a sense of confidence and purpose, and I could smell the whiff of expensive perfume anytime someone walked past.
Oh-are those cranberry crostinis? I want one...they look so delicious.
I tune back into the conversation, listening carefully as Gozaburo and the man discuss artillery provisions and stocks.
I hadn't given it much thought before, I suppose. I knew that Kaiba Corp was a technology based company, but I didn't know that it's main work was in military arms. I look over at my brother, who has on a picture perfect facade except for the tight crinkle between his eyebrows.
This was a bit concerning, since Kaiba Corp was one of the wealthiest companies in the world. Other than standard income from selling to countries and militias, the occasional exponential rises in Kaiba Corp revenue as noted in my brief financial courses would have to mean that there was enough conflict occurring in the world to justify such rises in the company's sales.
I consider it thoughtfully. Maybe I should request a politics class, it would certainly be enlightening to my currently limited view of the outside world.
After a few more lengthy minutes, Gozaburo bids his farewell to the man and we move on. There's practically a line to talk with him, after all, and we move further and further into the crowd with every conversation.
"My, Gozaburo! Your children are simply gorgeous." A woman in a shiny cocktail dress exclaims, "I'm sure they're just as successful as they're lovely."
She puts both hands on the shoulders of the child standing next to her, maneuvering the little girl into the spotlight.
"Have you met my daughter, Jacqueline? She just won the state piano championship, and now she's being invited for nationals." The woman continues, all big white smiles as she advertises her daughter, who offers Seto a weak smile.
"How wonderful it is to meet your daughter, " Gozaburo responds in kind, although I could hear the unimpressed undertone in his voice. After all…
"My own daughter, Risana, just recently won Japan's piano national championship. She's internationally ranked now. Perhaps they can talk about their experiences together." He ends with a smile that's too polite to be cordial.
The woman's eyes widen comically, and I only offer her a practiced smile as consolation when she looks at me with disbelief and a touch of horror. It was unnatural, wasn't it? That in the span of a year, an orphan child went from being a talentless nobody to an award-winning show dog.
It was unnatural, because the methods were unnatural. But she didn't need to know the blood and sweat and, more rarely, the tears that went on behind the scenes. All she needed to see was the ease with which the Kaiba family accomplished anything they set out for.
I was just thankful that I would never have to lay a hand on another god-forsaken piano again.
Within the span of a second, the woman schooled her expression again and offered me her insincere congratulations before finishing off the short conversation with Gozaburo and leaving without a second glance.
It goes on like this for a while. Between the men there to discuss work affairs with Gozaburo, wives and mothers would come up and try to acclimate their own well-bred children to Seto and I.
The fifth child we meet is a boy I recognized from my list. Masahiko Yoshimaru, son of one of the biggest entertainment industries in Japan. I give him my formal greetings, but he just stares at me with a raised chin, scrutinizing.
"You are very plain, aren't you." He finally says, casting his gaze away flippantly, "I guess you can't expect much else from a street rat."
The smile on my face freezes.
Ex...cuse me? It was a struggle to maintain my straight face, and I could barely force a tight smile. This was clearly a very spoiled, uneducated child. The rudest I had met yet.
I don't bother to give him a response, but a voice unexpectedly pipes up from my side.
"Take that back!" Mokuba seethes, eyes set steely on Masahiko. "My sister is NOT a street rat."
I was temporarily speechless. Mokuba tended to be more timid in social situations, although he definitely had his fair share of gutsy behavior whenever it was just the three of us. This was unexpected behavior.
"Mokuba," I start, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, but before I can finish my sentence, Masahiko huffs angrily.
"Take what back? I just told the truth. Where's your gratitude?!" He snaps, brimming with arrogance. "I knew rodents would always be uncultured, regardless of how many tutors they have."
Now, he had my undivided attention. Any semblance of a smile I had on my face slips off.
"Come again?" I ask, but it's a warning to tread carefully.
"Are you deaf too?" The little brat taunted, "I said that you guys don't belong here."
For a second, my vision went red. This little bastard really thought he could just say whatever he wanted to us, huh? Well if he wants a street rat, then I'll show him exactly how much it hurts to be bit by one.
You're going to fight a child? Damn right I will. No. Not here. The voice in my head chides. Control yourself. I looked back at Seto, his eyes sharp with quiet rage, and felt the cloudiness of anger dissipate slightly.
Right, fighting would just prove his point. There were better ways to solve this
Mokuba, a small ball of righteous fury, was stopped by Seto's arm.
"But Seto-" Mokuba starts strongly, staring at our brother with confused indignation. But at the look that Seto gives him, Mokuba snaps his mouth shut and retreats back to my side, eyes fixed on the floor with disappointment and displeasure on his face.
"It's okay, Mokie." I comfort, taking a deep breath before putting my smile back on and gazing straight at the blue-haired boy across from us. "After all, there's no use in speaking to garbage."
Masahiko's condescending grin dropped. "What did you say?!" He demanded, the haughtiness in his stance turning to rage.
"Are you deaf too?" I echo, although my tone is much more lighthearted, "I said that you're human scum, that outfit is so outdated I am embarrassed for you, and that I am sorry that you wish that you were good enough to even lick the bottom of our shoes." I continue, unhindered. "It is a disgrace that you have absolutely no redeeming talents and can be beaten in any subject by a little rat such as myself. Although, by Kaiba standards, your family has even lower standards than that of sewer rats. It is really too much of a shame that your pathetic existence can not even measure up to a ring on my finger." I finish, tilting my head with a perfectly sweet smile.
Mokuba and Seto stare at me.
Masahiko's entire face went red, but he doesn't even get to retort before Mr. Yoshimaru starts to pull him away, the conversation with Gozaburo having finished. We watch as he desperately glances back, but is forced to keep up with his father.
I offer him one last polite wave as he disappears into the crowds, and Mokuba next to me shakes slightly as he tries to hold in his laugh.
Nice one. Thank you.
Another man easily takes Yoshimaru's place, and thankfully this one doesn't have any children. The event went on smoothly after that. I even managed to get one of the waiters carrying the cranberry crostinis to stop and give me one. It was just as good as it looked, the sweet jam blending well with the brie cheese and crunchy bottom.
Near the end of the night, however, we met Sir Addington. A wealthy semi-royal, he and his family took more to investmenting than business-making. That also meant, apparently, that they had lots of free time.
Free time that they focused on their only daughter, fifteen year old Emilie Addington, a girl with impish features and silky braided brown hair.
Her repertoire was filled with accomplishments and recognitions, the top of which was her international standing as the greatest fencing player of her age. She had been playing before she could even walk, and Sir Addington would not stop boasting about it.
Which was fine. I had accomplished my own impressive list of awards in the year I had been at the Kaiba Mansion, but Sir Addington seemed to find them unsatisfactory.
"Well, it's a bit different isn't it?" He said, eyebrow cocked. Gozaburo swirled the champagne in his glass silently, and Sir Addington took that as an unfortunate gesture to go on. "Emilie isn't like any other girl. Everyone these days can be musical and dance, but very few have the talent or wit to pursue fencing."
Talent or wit to pursue fencing?! What does that even mean?
Instinctively, I looked at Gozaburo, who was sporting a chilly expression. I felt my back straighten as the atmosphere tanked, but Sir Addington's arrogance couldn't be stopped, and he kept on babbling about the wonders that fencing offers that makes it superior from all other arts, how his daughter was the best in the world, and how no one could hope to compare.
The conversation quickly ended after that, although the Addingtons departed with smug smiles that made Gozaburo crack the wineglass in his hand.
A waiter immediately came to replace it, but the damage had already been done.
Seto looked over at me with concern and gave my hand a small squeeze of support, but it did little to ease the chill that went down my spine.
The rest of the evening was spent in a decidedly different mood.
As the night closed off, we finally got around to leaving after Gozaburo made all the rounds that he needed. Any guise of friendliness was dropped the moment the limo door closed behind us.
Gozaburo grit his teeth, his eyes darkening as his mood dampened instantly.
"Risana." He called. It was just a stated word, but it was even worse than if he had yelled.
"Yes, father?" I responded right away, inwarding grimacing.
"Tomorrow you will be starting fencing lessons." He said, leveling me with a searing gaze. "Do. Not. Disappoint me."
I bowed my head. My fingertips dug into my palm so hard that I bled, but I didn't notice.
"Yes, father."
Fuck.
(✦✧✦✧)
Due to the lower amount of competition in the field, and the fact that Emilie fenced foil rather than epee or sabre, I accomplished Gozaburo's goal in five months.
I felt like I almost died from the intensive training to get ready for the next tournament. I had never fenced before, suddenly I was spending more than half of all my days sweating in a thick, padded suit. The light training happened while my hand was still healing, but after that, it was brutal.
I was already tired and overworked, and the intensive exercise almost cut my heart out to the point where I would sometimes black out in the mornings after 'waking up' and only regain consciousness when it was time for training.
I wasn't exactly sure what I did in the times I was blacked out, but no one said a word and I did feel slightly refreshed afterwards, so it worked well enough for me.
Now I'm here, staring down Emilie at the center of a lit up platform, sweat dripping down my face but prevented from blurring my eyes by the helmet guard. She's a good half a foot taller than me, but I'm pushing five foot at nearly 10 years old.
Emilie had the advantage of reach on me, for sure. She was originally anticipated to be the winner of this tournament.
Unfortunately, the current score sat at 14 - 11 in my favor.
Emilie lunges towards me, but I parry and lean back, her foil sliding down to the hilt of mine. She's nervous, and getting reckless in her desperation. With the right of way, my foil hits her in the chest long before she can retaliate. The arena is roaring as the referee calls halt to determine the last point of the game, but it's already over. From the look on Emilie's face through the veil of her mask, she knew it too.
"Point to Risana. Risana wins the match." The referee announces at last. The stadium erupts into roars, cheers and curses and excitement. This was an unprecedented victory.
I throw my mask off my head, finally letting fresh air hit my sweating face. I try and tuck the mask under my arm, but my muscles were so wretched that it fell to the floor. I couldn't muster the energy to pick it up, but the relief hit me like a freight train and I gave Emilie the biggest smile I could.. A real smile, wrought from months of grueling work and the absolute thankfulness that it was over.
Yes, reach did help a lot, but I was faster, and my timing was better, and my shortness only made it harder for Emilie to adjust her hits. She lost the moment she underestimated me.
We salute as it ends. My arms are shaking, but Emilie can barely keep the polite facade on her face. It slips off just before she turns away, and I can't help but smirk at the conflicted despair that twisted her face.
Sorry Emilie. I thought, also turning away from the bright lights of the stadium to finally go home. But blame your father for provoking Gozaburo.
After all, I do what I need to survive. That conviction just ended up being stronger than your own.
(✦✧✦✧)
The next time we meet Sir Addington and his family, he's a significantly more humbled man. At his side, Emilia stares at me with that same dark mix of emotion in her eyes. Disbelief, fear, anguish, and anger.
But my left knee is in a splint from a stress fracture, my left arm has been iced for the past week from inflammation, and I sneer back. The metallic taste of blood is ugly in my mouth, but I couldn't care less.
I'm freshly 10 years old, and a Kaiba. I have never, could never, fail to rise up to a challenge.
This time, I earn my first birthday present from Gozaburo: a simple one percent share of the company's stocks.
(✦✧✦✧)
Something is different.
Is it?
Yes. You are.
I am only what I need to be.
Perhaps so.
(✦✧✦✧)
"What are you doing Mokuba?" I pry, peeking over his shoulder at the picture he was scribbling out on the desk.
"It's a drawing for Seto!" He chirps, and I make out the faint shape of a light blue dragon on the paper.
Realization sparks.
"Is that the blue-eyes white dragon?" I ask, moving to sit down next to him.
"Yup!" He answers back happily.
I smile and lean on one hand, watching him. The lineart is a little crooked, and the colors don't fill up all the white spaces, but that made it charming in the way only home-made gifts can be.
Seto has been getting more and more busy recently, even more than me. Most nights, he doesn't come back to his own room anymore. Instead, Mokuba and I sometimes watch the room he studies in from the balcony in Mokuba's room. The light never turns off until early in the morning, but I'm rarely awake to see it happen.
Taking one of the crayons, I doodle my own blue-eyes on the side, filling out its details until it's a sprawling monster across the page.
"W-Wow Risa-nee!" Mokuba exclaims as he peeks at my drawing, and I hum questioningly. "How did you do that?!" He yells, a bright buzzing ball of energy.
I shade in the patch I'm working on, before looking at the drawing as a whole. On the page, the blue-eyes white dragon nearly comes to life, eyes glowing with a fervid life as it seems to coil off the pages. With some more details, it would be real enough to touch.
I blink.
Huh, I didn't mean to make it so...dramatic. I felt like I had drawn it in a trance, turning it from a simple picture to something out of my wildest dreams. It's been a long time since I drew anything, maybe I just got in over my own head.
"I'm not sure." I answer lamely, but pick the drawing up from the table. "Do you want it?"
Mokuba furiously nods his head, and I watch as he takes out a book. Then, he opens it to reveal the hollow insides, where a duel monsters deck is sitting.
I raised my eyebrow. "Is that your deck?" I ask as I hand over my paper.
"No, it's Seto's." Mokuba responds, placing his own card-shaped drawing in the fake book with my slightly bigger one. At my confused stare, he elaborates. "Seto got his games taken away, so I'm going to give this back to him."
My eyebrows furrowed. "Seto got his games taken away? Why?"
The few times we do manage to see Seto at night, he's taken to just going straight to his room after classes, saying that he's too tired. It was weird, but Mokuba and I had dropped it at the deathly look in his eyes.
If Seto needed his own alone time, that was fine with me. I understood the exhaustion and even solitude, but it just meant that there was no way to ask him any questions.
Mokuba shrugged. "I don't know, Hudson came around looking for Seto's stuff, so I tried to hide his deck. You know how Seto is about Duel Monsters…"
We both flashback to all the times in the orphanage that Seto obsessed over building his deck, the hundreds of duels he would do inbetween chess matches, and even the occasional game we would play today. Chess was Seto's professional project at the time, but Duel Monsters was definitely his passion.
"How are you going to get this to him?" I ask as Mokie closes up the hollow book.
"Through Hudson!" My little brother puffs up his chest with pride as he reveals his plan, and we exchange mischievous grins.
I ruffle Mokuba's hair before he leaves on his quest, although I can't help the brief pang of nostalgia that hits me. When did Mokuba grow up?
When did he learn how to scheme, how to manipulate, how to use others to do his bidding.
(They were growing up before my eyes, without me knowing. I was losing track of time-)
Seto doesn't come to visit us that night or the next, but Mokuba shows me a note he got back from our eldest sibling.
All it said in scribbled writing was:
Thanks.
(✦✧✦✧)
This time, the party was hosted by Gozaburo.
Seto had made a name for himself as a prodigy in all aspects, particularly that of intellectual affairs, while I had personally achieved more in the physical field. I had to admit that in terms of IQ alone, Seto probably had me beat, but I was in no ways stupid either. Thus, Gozaburo spared no expenses to flaunt the superiority of 'his' children during this event.
Our banquet hall was outfitted with the finest catering, the finest waiters, the finest decorations, and the finest guests. Many of the attendees had even traveled from different countries to participate in Gozaburo's event, as it was a gathering of some of the most influential people in the world.
Stefan Von Schroeder was one of those people.
"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Kaiba" Stefan said smoothly, his German accent weaving through his words. "As I'm sure you know, your children are the talk of the town. And believe me, I can relate. My son, too, is a child prodigy."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
His 'child prodigy' is a kid with pink hair and a lilac suit, standing in front of us. His father introduces him as Sigfried von Schroeder, and I recognize him as one of the lineups Mary has prepared for me.
How wonderful. That only made me despise him even more. It was always a half and half crapshoot with their personalities. Either they would be stuck up their own ärsches or they would be too nervous to even speak.
Luckily, all his attention is focused on my older brother.
"You look like you're as thrilled to be here as I am." He says, directed to my apathetic brother. "What do you say we spice things up a bit?"
The chandelier lights flash, and Mokuba grabs my left hand in a jerk of nerves.
I frown. Was this supposed to be some kind of joke?
"Strange, there must be a short." Gozaburo considers as murmurs of concern spring up around us. A bodyguard emerges from the crowd and whispers to him, causing his eyebrows to crease angrily. "No, there must be some mistake. Check it again..." He orders.
I see Seto turn back to regard the kid in front of us with a new light in his eyes, but I am unimpressed by the cheap parlor trick. The wiring on the lights weren't even directly connected to any of Kaiba Corp's mainframe systems, they could be operated by any of the light boxes hidden in the walls.
Seto would know this if he had to take interior decorating classes like I did. Although on my overall list of hated classes, it ranked low enough to be bearable. I couldn't say the same for my course in fashion anticipation though. Like it wasn't hard enough having to interact with half of the people in my social sphere, now I had to think of ways to outdress them too.
"Let's just say I dabble in technology." Siegfried says, despite the fact that no one asked. "I guess when you spend all your time alone, you tend to tinker in your own little projects. You know how it is, Herr Kaiba."
It was a statement meant for Seto, but it managed to hit me where it hurts. Seto didn't spend all his time alone...he didn't use to, at least.
Now, however, it was a different story.
"Goodbye Herr Kaiba, Frau Kaiba." Siegfried bids in farewell, finally acknowledging me as Stefan and Gozaburo finish their rivalry disguised as pleasantries. With the way that Stefan stalks away, I'm guessing that our adopted father had once more gotten his way.
"I've heard so much about your children, Mr. Kaiba." Another man takes his place easily. I follow the sharp lines of a grey suit up to his face and check another profile off my list. The night passes rapidly after that, although it doesn't surprise me.
Between the constant ache in my shoulders and the sneaked taste of a beautifully stacked smoked trout blinis with crème fraîche, I'm barely awake.
The night ends with Gozaburo's announcement of a new company deal between the biggest manufacturing company in Europe and Kaiba Corporation, and everyone celebrates with a round of champagne. As we leave the party, I catch Stefan Von Schroeder out of the corner of my eye, glaring at us with undisguised animosity.
Well, it was none of my concern. After all, everyone eventually learned, hard way or not, that Kaibas always got their way.
(✦✧✦✧)
After that, Seto was more than frequently seen with a screwdriver in one hand and machine parts in the other, although most of the mess was thankfully scattered in his own room. God knows it would've been impossible to find the little memory chips and driver pieces if they had gotten lost anywhere else.
I can tell it doesn't make him as happy as being able to play games, but he doesn't dislike manual work. I ask him what the piece he's working on is for, and he tells me with a small smile that it's a device to play virtual games with.
I'm torn between amusement and fond exasperation. He's definitely smart enough to do it, but of course he uses all his skills in the pursuit of his one true interest: gaming.
Well, I can't judge too much. After all, we all do what we have to in order to cope.
I twist my hands, and try to stay conscious for a little while longer.
(✦✧✦✧)
It's summer now, we're less bundled up. Seto and I are working at the desk, Mokuba having already gone to sleep in his own room. It's been a week or so since I last saw him, so it was an increasingly rare treat to do work or play games with him.
Seto goes to put back something into one of the shelves, and his dress sleeve slides up just enough for me to see something lingering beneath the shadow of his shirt.
"Seto." I blurted, eyes locked onto his sleeve. "What is that?"
His eyes dart down, and he quickly puts the book down onto the table. Fear strikes me, its icy tendrils snake down my spine, almost enough to make me shake.
"Seto." But this time, it's a hushed whisper of panic. "Tell me now."
"It's none of your business." He finally splutters, not any better at hiding his emotions from me than I can from him. He doesn't look me in the eyes.
Seto-" He slams his hand on the desk and gets up, but before he can leave I grab his arm. With honed reflexes, I yank the sleeve up before I can even think.
It's a disgusting mosaic of healing cuts, bruises, and swollen red welts.
"RISANA!" He yells, and I let go on startled instinct.
Seto has never raised his voice at me, not in that manner.
He yanks his arm back, wrenches the sleeve down, and sweeps out of my room with a slam of the door behind him.
I stare at the door, trying to process what I saw.
It can't be...
It is.
Seto's reclusiveness, his unwillingness to meet us, the extra trudge in his steps, the way his hands shook when he wrote. It meant this entire time, Seto had...that...and that I didn't notice.
The wooden back of the chair I'm holding splinters under my tight grip.
Bile rises in my throat.
I...I can't...I…
It's okay. IT'S NOT.
I black ou-
(✦✧✦✧)
By the time I come to, it's dark. I blink, disoriented, before sitting up. I'm in my bed, the lights are off. I go to pull my covers off, but one of my hands meets slight resistance. I look down, and I see that it's lightly bandaged.
Quickly, I check the clock. It's an hour later than when...I realized that Seto…
I threw the blankets off me and stood up, my heart trying to beat out of my chest.
No, no no. I had to talk to him. I had to figure this out.
...what... going to do?
What?
I pause, but a clarifying thought doesn't come.
I briefly squish the confusion back down to rush out of my room, coming to a stop in front of Seto's door.
I bit my lip, and tried the door.
It was locked.
Pausing, I gently knocked on the door.
"Seto…" I whisper, hoping he can hear me. "Seto, I'm sorry."
I pause and wait, but there's no response.
I knocked again.
"Seto, please let me in." I begged.
There's still no reply, so I sit down with my back against the door and hold my legs to my chest. The hall is dark, and the only light is coming in from the staircase, where it streams inside from the tall windows of the entrance hall. The walls block it from directly reaching any further than the exposed area, but the hall is cast in a pale blue light. It's complemented by the dark blue carpet runner that goes down the hall.
I dig my feet into the rug, but it doesn't provide me any support other than that.
It's completely quiet, save for the faint chirp of the crickets from outside. A breeze comes down the hall, crisp from the air conditioning, and I tuck my legs in a little more, trying to block out the chill. But I don't care about the darkness or the temperature. I'll wait here as long as I have to. I need to sort out my words, anyway.
Lamentably, I barely close my eyes before the fatigue hits me as usual. Despite one last desperate attempt at consciousness, I'm dragged into the consuming void of sleep.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but I stir at the muffled sound of footsteps. Then, I'm falling backwards, and I wake up with a yelp as I hit the floor.
My vision is slightly disoriented, but I see Seto standing over me, concern in his eyes and mouth open as if to say something. But then, his expression smoothes itself back out into something more guarded.
It's a look that makes my chest twinge with pain.
"What do you want, Risana?" He states flatly, and I quickly push myself off the floor.
Despite all the thoughts racing through my head, I'm tongue-tied. There's not a single word I could say that would be able to convey any of the emotions running through my mind. Not when I'm staring at my brother, twelve years old and wiry for his age, cheeks more gaunt than they should be and eyes that have been weary for the past two years. There's no longer a spark in them, his energy and childishness stripped away by obligations and ambitions.
How could I have let this happen? How come I didn't notice, too wrapped up in my own hurdles to even think about the stress it would've had on my siblings? What type of bastard sister was I that I let Gozaburo do this to them?
I felt like I was getting ripped into a thousand little pieces, from inside out. The guilt was crushing me. Nothing means more to me than my brothers, nothing in the entire world. How could I have let this happen?
And all I want to do is slit Gozaburo's throat-no-I want him to suffer like we did, I want him to experience every single inch of our pain and more. I want him to feel this heavy weight on my heart that makes it hard to breathe. I...
I'm so…
"Sorry, Seto. I'm so sorry."
For the first time I can remember in two years, I cry. Seto's eyes widen, and he's frozen in place, but I don't care. It's all I can do to keep my whimpering quiet, and I try to rub the tears from my eyes but they keep on coming.
I quietly hear the door shut behind me, and then my face is against something warm. Seto pats my head, holding me close with a hug.
I bury my face in his shoulder, still sobbing something messy and ugly.
"I'm sorry Seto." I ramble between choked breaths, tasting salt in my mouth. "I didn't know, how could I let them do it to you too?!"
His hand stops stroking my hair, but I cling onto him even tighter. "Please don't leave Seto, please...I'll change it. I'll fix it. Don't leave."
But how could I fix something that was already done?
"I'm not leaving, Risa." Seto finally murmurs. He lets me cry it out for a few more minutes, before I let him detach to get me some tissues.
I blew my nose and sniffled, trying to focus on the mechanical parts scattered across the room as embarrassment came creeping back now that my emotions were settling. My head hurts, stress and exhaustion mixing together to press down on my brain painfully.
"S-Sorry about your shirt, Seto." I stuttered, my entire body shaking with cold and the aftermath of my melt down. I felt wretchedly vulnerable, all the things I've been trying to hide suddenly laid bare in front of me.
"It's ok." He said, but I didn't dare look him in the eyes.
He sighed, going over to the bed and raising up the cover. "Come here, you're freezing."
I look up, still pathetic. "Seto, I-"
"Let's talk about it tomorrow." He said, cutting me off. "I'm tired. You're tired. Let's talk later."
We stare at each other, two different people but inherently the same, and an understanding is silently reached. My brain finally clicks off, and I crawl into the fluffy covers, settling into the warm patch Seto had likely been sleeping in before. Seto does the same on the other side of me, and we both fall into a comfortable hush.
I curl up, and my tremors stop as I slowly warm up again. Seto's a warm presence at my back, and it brings me a solace I haven't experienced in a while.
Blinking weakly, I place my trust in my brother's word and fall out of existence once more.
Risana fluctuates a lot between her mental and physical age. A lot of the time, she sees herself as the oldest because of her mental age, and feels as if she needs to watch and protect her siblings, but she isn't immune to periods of weakness. Meanwhile, Seto sees her as his younger sister, even if she's much smarter than her age. Seto rarely betrays his standing in that aspect, and tends to sometimes forget the capabilities of his siblings as well. Neither view is wrong, just two sides of the same coin, and they approach their goals in different ways personally, but with similarities that tend to reflect their upbringing. Not to mention all three have some serious abandonment issues.
Anyway, one more chapter left before we meet the other actual main characters in yugioh. :)