(Authors Note: Translation available at the bottom of the page for those interested.)
Chapter Eight
It's not a house, it's a castle, he thought as he looked up at the manor through the window of the car. There were more windows than he could count. Balconies and pillars and two curved staircases that hugged a grand fountain that sprayed water as high as the front-most balcony. Mokuba was squeezed next to him, all but sitting on his lap as he too stared up at the opulence.
It wasn't their new father who waited for them at the top of the stairs, but a butler in a clean pressed black uniform and grey hair gelled back against his scalp. The boys were led into the house, toured through the first floor. The dining room, the ballroom, the downstairs sitting room. All places, they were told, they were allowed to go. Then, upstairs, they were shown to their new bedrooms. One right next to the other, with huge canopy beds and private bathrooms. Mokuba's had a box full of brand new toys.
His own room, he thought. He would never have to share with Mokuba, let alone another boy, again. The two brothers proceeded to flop down on his bed, laughing and celebrating the good luck that finally saw fit to grace them.
No more going hungry. No more mean older boys.
"Seto," the butler said, "Master Kaiba requires your audience in his office."
Seto pushed off the bed, still grinning from ear to ear.
Mokuba moved to follow, but the butler put out a hand. "Seto only, for now."
Mokuba took Seto's hand and squeezed it. "You said we won't be apart anymore."
"It's okay, Moki. We'll play when I get back."
Seto entered the office alone. The door closed with a snap that echoed as if in a cavern. The room was dark, featureless. A fire glowed to the side, as if in a hearth, but there were no signs of brick or mortar. A sudden fear filled him, sharp and prodding. He whipped about to the door, but it was gone. All that lay before him was blackness. A claustrophobic void.
A hand clasped his shoulder. The fingers wrinkled like old leather, the color of stained and spotted sheets. They squeezed, depressing into his flesh with the strength to leave him bruised.
A voice that spoke, deep and full of superiority. "Here's how this is going to go, boy."
A figure stepped out of the dark, shadowed by shifting swirling blackness. Its dark beady eyes glowed like Halloween LEDs. It stood over him, swelling to fill his vision. Its arm appeared, reaching from the shadows, clad in red, ringed with jewels, and holding a smoking, smoldering cigar.
"You behave, and you will have no trouble with me."
More hands joined the first. Grabbing, squeezing, tearing at clothes, forcing his arms still as he tried to fight them off. The cigar was coming closer. The tip glowed red, pulsed.
"Misbehave, however…"
Hands in his hair, on his wrists.
"Be a good boy, now."
A searing pain flashed through Seto's shoulder and he screamed.
It was the ghost of pain that pulled Seto out of sleep, screaming into his pillow. He didn't know how long he laid there, waiting for it to pass. It could've been hours. When he worked up the strength to pull himself up, the sky outside the long hotel room window was shifting from black to grey. It cast an otherworldly glow over the room.
The queen size bed on its raised dais. The small seating area to the side with its wide plush armchairs and glass top table. The wooden lattice divider that separated the main room from a porcelain tub, large enough to fit two comfortably. In the light of day, the room was draped in rich burgundy and autumnal colors. In that cold half-light, it was transplanted from a black and white movie.
Seto leaned forward and dug his hands in his hair. Even so far from home, he couldn't escape them. The nightmares followed him everywhere.
The first stop on her 'Grand Tour of Berlin', as Miss Miyoshi called it, was the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. It was a dilapidated old building that had been one of many air raid victims in 1943. What remained was blackened and crumbling. The belfry still stood, though its steeple had fallen long ago. It was a haunting figure among the new construction. The clocks of the belfry were stuck in time.
One o'clock.
The knowledge that the time that the bombs fell was immortalized forever in such a way was chilling. Gooseflesh prickled up Seto's, but he said nothing of his discomfort.
From there she took him to Brandenburg Gate. It was a marvel of neoclassical architecture. The six giant stone dividers felt more like cue lines at an amusement park than a memorial. Though that comparison had been more on the nose than Seto intended. It had, for decades before the fall of the Berlin Wall, been one of the only crossings between East and West. Atop the structure sat a four-horse chariot, within which stood an angel. Its bronze visage was patinated with age. Only the imagination could capture its original splendor.
It was nearing noon when Miss Miyoshi took Seto into the Tiergarten, a huge park behind the Brandenburg Gate. Standing tall at the center of the park, surrounded by a traffic circle, was the Victory Column. A single pillar stops a wide circular base of polished granite. A glass mosaic wrapped the bottom of the pillar, creating a walkway of multicolored splendor. At its top stood an angel cast in gold, similar in style to the angel atop Brandenburg.
They took the elevator to the highest platform and stepped out to find the whole of the Tiergarten and Berlin spread before them. Old and new. Patinated bronze, rusting steel, aged stone, brick, and granite. It was a spectacular sight. Even more so when the sun broke through the overcast to shine a spotlight on the city.
Though, compared to the woman standing next to him, the city was plain and unappealing. With every passing breeze, her hair flowed around her. He could almost believe that the wind could pick her up and she would fly away on wings of blue-white down. Her presence alone beat back the memory of his nightmare, oppressive until the moment he rejoined her company. Her voice, her laugh, scared away the echo of Gozaburo Kaiba.
"The Berlin Zoo is over there." She pointed to a Chinese-style gate with stone lions atop it among the trees. "It's one of the biggest in the world. I used to visit all the time."
She gripped the chain link fence, barely hiding the faint shaking of her fingers. It was too tempting to take that hand, squeeze it and relieve the sadness Seto caught on her face before she looked away. He looked over his shoulder, at the crowds of people who stood with them on the platform, and put his hands in his pockets.
"It must be strange," he said, "being back so soon."
"Yeah." She brushed her hair from her shoulder. "It's hard having your heart in so many places."
"You said you left because of your ex."
"Sure did." Her resolve seemed to strengthen, back going straight and hand gripping the fence harder. "He wanted me to stay here, keep making the circuit in nightclubs and festivals. Didn't want me to go back to my family. Said I didn't have what it took to make it in the states."
"He was trying to isolate you."
"Easier to see that now." She shrugged. "It wasn't a bad life. A lot of fun, actually. Loud music, parties, and drinking. I always knew this wouldn't be where I spent the rest of my life. I wanted to go home, be with my sisters and try and live out my dream."
"Hence the talent scout."
"Exactly. If I could get a company interested in me, I'd have an in to get the rest of the band overseas on someone else's dime."
"Why not stay?" Seto jerked his head toward the horizon. "I'm sure you could have gotten a deal with a company based here. You had the reputation and the fanbase. It would have been easier."
"I could have. We'd been approached by a few, but this isn't home." She looked at him and there was a certainty in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.
"I thought you said your heart belonged here."
"Your heart can be split between two places, but your soul only feels at home in one."
"Is that another of your mother's lines?"
"Pretty much. It's true though, don't you think?"
Soul and home. A place where belonging came naturally.
The thought left a hole in Seto's chest. "I can't say I know what that's like."
"No?" She tilted her head to the side. "Isn't Domino your home? You own a business there. You've got that big house and your little brother."
Seto crossed his arms. "I do."
She watched him, her gaze steady as she examined his face. Though what she could be looking for, he didn't know. "You really don't like talking about yourself, do you?"
"I prefer to keep my private life private." There were aspects of his past that he knew would scare her away.
She looked back to the city, brows knit together as she chewed her lip. Seto let her be with her thoughts. As much as he enjoyed her company, as much as he found himself attracted to her, sometimes even yearning for her touch, he couldn't bear to let her in. He couldn't take the risk.
When she looked back, she was smiling. "You hungry? There's this cafe nearby I think you'll like. We'll do our shopping after. I know a place that sells old Olympic merchandise I think would be good for Mokuba." She let go of the fence and walked away.
Seto frowned at her back. "Miss Miyoshi."
She stopped. He thought he saw her shoulders stiffen as she turned back to face him.
"I believe you have what it takes," he said. "I know little about the music industry, but any company would have to be blind and deaf to not sign you."
Her smile was easy. A weight seemed to lift from her. "You know, it's gonna sound weird, but it means a lot coming from you."
The street was clogged with tourists, bouncing from one shop to another. Miss Miyoshi had a bulging bag in one hand, full of german candy and bottles of lager. Presents for her sisters and aunt. Seto had one of his own, full of sports memorabilia she had helped him pick out.
Admittedly, he had gone a bit overboard. It was easy to do with her acting as the enabler.
"One more stop," she said.
Down another street, she led him to the front of a music store. The windows were plastered with posters. Above the door, the sign was made from layers of multicolored spray paint. It was not the kind of place where men like Seto, dressed in slacks and button-downs, often made their rounds. The bell above the door jingled when Miss Miyoshi stepped inside. She held the door for him, but he hesitated.
"What?" she asked. "You were hoping to hold the door for me? Come on."
Seto squared his shoulder and entered behind her.
Wooden crates on tables lined the walls and formed aisles in the middle of the room. Inside each crate vinyls, CDs, cassette tapes, and even 8-tracks were organized alphabetically. The walls were covered in posters, band shirts, and old record covers, some decades old. At the back of the store was a corner counter. Its glass cases no doubt held more valuable and rare merchandise. Behind the counter, a man sat with his studded boots on the countertop, a magazine open across his lap. He had piercings in his nose, ears, and eyebrows. Seto wrinkled his nose at the sight of him.
Miss Miyoshi showed no such disdain. She raised an arm as if in greeting. "Brady!"
The man looked up, brows high at first, then a wide grin split his face. He had a gap between his front two teeth. "Kisa?"
His boots hit the floor and the magazine went flying. He vaulted the counter in one swift motion before running over and scooping her into a hug that lifted her off the ground. Every muscle of Seto's arms tightened. The thought to pull them apart, as he'd done that night at Blue Wind, passed through his mind. He forced the urge back, but kept his eyes trained on the encounter, ready to intercede at the first sign of unwanted attention.
"Scheiße Mädchen, was machst du hier?" the man said. "Ich dachte du bist nach Hause gegangen."(1)
"Ich tat," she said. "Ich bin für ein paar Tage zu Besuch."(2)
"Du siehst super aus." the man's fingers grasped a lock of her hair. "Du hast dir die Haare zurückgefärbt."(3)
Seto tensed, waiting for her cue.
She laughed and the tension eased, if only slightly. "Musste. Die Leute würden mich nicht ernst nehmen, wenn ich es nicht täte."(4)
"Dann haben sie dich nicht verdient." The man's eyes met Seto's over her shoulder. "Wer ist der Anzug?"(5)
She looked back at Seto and her smile fell. She cleared her throat and backed up a step. "Mister Kaiba, this is Braden Germain, he's a part of my band." She gave him a warning look. "He's a friend."
"Doesn't matter to me what he is to you," Seto looked down at the display next to him, where CDs lined a special display case as if to make it seem like he didn't care.
Germain muttered, though not quietly. "Arschloch."(6)
"Hor auf," Miss Miyoshi said. "Er ist derjenige, von dem ich dir erzählt habe."(7)
"Ihm?!" Seto looked up in time to see Germain jerk a hand in his direction. "Bist du sicher? Er scheint nicht das gleiche Kind zu sein, von dem du mir erzählt hast."(8)
She touched his arm. "Ich weiß. Sei einfach nett."(9)
He scoffed, but seemed to drop whatever issue they were arguing about. "Was machst du hier überhaupt?"(10)
Miss Miyoshi rubbed the back of her neck. "Ich habe meine Kopie von Black Mesa verloren. Hast du noch ein paar übrig?" (11)
"Ja, genau dort."(12) He thrust a thumb at the display Seto was looking at.
Seto looked back at the indicated rows, actually seeing them for the first time. The sign above the display labeled the merchandise as 'indie', but he saw nothing of particular importance. Some self-printed CDs with no publisher logo and a few with obvious higher production values.
"Ich warte am Schalter auf dich. Sag Bescheid, wenn du fertig bist."(13) Germain stuck his hands in the pockets of his chained black jeans and returned to the back of the store.
Once he was out of earshot Miss Miyoshi turned on Seto, hands on her hips. "Try and be nice, would you?"
"I don't see a reason why I should. He's no one I would ever do business with. Odds are I'll never see him again after today."
"You can be so…" She huffed, leaving her sentence hanging in the air.
She all but marched to the display. She pulled out two copies of the same album before turning away, hair whipping from the force of it. Seto struggled to keep the amusement off his face as he watched her walk away. He turned back to the CDs and flicked through the row, interested in what she'd selected. The photo used as the cover for the album was greyscaled, depicting a shirtless woman with her back to the camera. Her chin rested on her shoulder, lips slightly parted, as if looking at a lover. The top half of her face was cut off by the edge of the case. On her back were the fraying leather wings of a dragon. Her hair was ombre, black fading to a very light color at the ends.
Seto picked up the album for a closer look. There was something familiar about the woman. Recognition tickled at his mind until he looked at Miss Miyoshi. His inner eyes overlaid the image onto the woman before him and he felt his desire spark deep in his core.
"Miss Miyoshi," he said.
She swung back around. "What?"
Seto turned the case to show her the cover and raised an eyebrow. "This you?"
Her face faded from red to pink, then paled. "What if it is?" Germain started laughing and she rounded on him. "Halt die Klappe!"(14)
Seto hummed, then edged past her to the counter, where he set the CD down. "I'll take one."
"What?"
"Wirklich?"(15)
Miss Miyoshi hurried to his side as Seto reached for his wallet. "What are you doing?"
"Getting myself a souvenir." Seto placed ten and twenty euro bills on the counter.
"You said you didn't want any souvenirs. Why now? Why this?" She motioned to the album.
"I'd like to know the kind of music you play."
"You know what kind I play. You heard me at the bar, remember? Before you punched that scout's lights out."
"That was only you. I want to hear what you can do with a team behind you."
Color returned to her cheeks. She hitched a hip and laid her hand on it. "So it's not cause I'm half-naked on the cover?"
Heat crept up Seto's neck. "I'm not an animal."
"No? Could've fooled me. I seem to remember a couple moments of animal-like behavior."
"You're exaggerating."
"Bullsh-"
"Weißt du…" said Germain, who, during the course of their growing argument, had slouched into a more comfortable position. His elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand. "Wenn Sie sie wirklich spielen hören mochten, tritt Black Mesa heute Abend bei Cassiopeia auf. Ich bin sicher, Takako wurde gerne mit dir doppelt singen. Sie hat dich wie verrückt vermisst."(16)
Miss Miyoshi chewed her lip. "Diesen Abend?"(17)
"What is it?" Seto asked.
Her fingers adjusted the sleeves of her shirt. "He says they're playing tonight."
Seto let her fidget in silence for a moment. "What do you want to do?"
She looked at him, then down, then settled her eyes on her friend. "Wird Sven dabei sein?"(18)
"Sven?" Germain blinked, head lifting off his palm. "Warum sollte er? Takako hat ihn rausgeschmissen, nachdem du gegangen bist. Sagte, wenn er nicht "bei" der Band war, war er nicht bei der Band. Du weisst?"(19)
Her smile was warm. "Takako."
"Another friend?" Seto asked.
"Yeah, she's one of the ones I came here with. When everyone else went home, she was the only one who stayed with me. She's always been like that."
Seto leaned against the counter. "If you don't want to go, then we won't."
She shook her head. "No, I do."
Seto looked at Germain. The man sat there, silently watching him with interest. "What time?"
"Sieben." Germain looked Seto up and down, then glanced at Miss Miyoshi. "Weißt du, ich konnte mich in Bezug auf dich irren."(20)
Miss Miyoshi smiled, small and warm. "Seven."
"And the rest?"
She grinned. "Says it'll be twenty for the CD."
Translations:
(1) "Shit girl, what are you doing here?" the man said. "I thought you went home."
(2) "I did," she said. "I'm visiting for a few days."
(3) "You look great." the man's fingers grasped a lock of her hair. "You dyed your hair back."
(4) "Had to. People wouldn't take me seriously if I didn't."
(5) "Then they don't deserve you." The man's eyes met Seto's over her shoulder. "Who's the suit?"
(6) "Asshole,"
(7) "Stop," Miss Miyoshi said. "He's the one I told you about."
(8) "Him?!" Seto looked up in time to see Germain jerk a hand in his direction. "Are you sure? He doesn't seem like the same kid you told me about."
(9) "I know. Just be nice."
(10) "What are you doing here anyway?"
(11) "I lost my copy of Black Mesa. Do you have a few left?"
(12) "Yeah, right there."
(13) "I'll wait for you at the counter. Tell me when you're ready."
(14) "Keep your mouth shut!"
(15) "For real?"
(16) "You know…" said Germain, who, during the course of their growing argument, had slouched into a more comfortable position. His elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand. "If you really want to hear them play, Black Mesa's performing at Cassiopeia tonight. I'm sure Takako would love to double-sing with you again. She missed you like crazy."
(17) "This evening?"
(18) "Will Sven be there?"
(19) "Why should he? Takako kicked him out after you left. Said if he wasn't 'with' the bad, he wasn't with the band. You know?"
(20) "Seven." Germain looked Seto up and down, then glanced at Miss Miyoshi. "You know, I could be wrong about you."