A Precocious Boy

Seto Kaiba reclined on his bed, propped with pillows, his laptop on his belly. He told himself that he really did have to check the graphs of the projected budget for his Battle City project, and he had to e-mail those graphs to the mayor, and the mayor was antsy because they were nearing deadline, but while he did these things, he was really putting off the research he needed to do. He didn't know what was more shameful—what he was gearing himself up to do, or that he was procrastinating about it.

There was a knock on his door, the maid with his tea. "Come in," he said.

Behind the silver teapot, the silver pitchers of honey and cream, two china mugs and, wonder of wonders, two china saucers of raspberry chocolate cake, was Mokuba's bluegrass eyes and wide smile. Kaiba was glad he had put off the research.

"Hey, Seto!" Mokuba carefully placed the tray on the bedside table, and then plopped down on the bed. He lifted the tea -pot and began to pour the tea. Mint and Jasmine steam twisted lazily toward the ceiling, braiding and unbraiding. "How was your day?"

"It went rather well," Seto said. "How was your day?"

Mokuba handed Kaiba a cup of tea, then stood up and unzipped his sleeveless jacket. Under the jacket, layered over his blue and white striped shirt, was an AC/DC t-shirt.

"I don't know how we both lived without them for so long, Seto. They're fucking awesome."

"Intelligent people don't use those words, Mokuba."

"What about George Carlin?"

George Carlin?

"Anyway, Seto, I would never use those words in school."

"See that you don't."

Mokuba poured and stirred copious amounts of honey and cream into his tea with the deftness of a barista in a Moroccan bazaar. "I'm twelve years old now, Seto. People my age use those words, and listen to AC/DC. They also date."

Kaiba blew a stream of steam at Mokuba. "Date, you say?"

"Yes. And Seto, there's no easy way to say this, so I just will. I'm thinking about starting to date."

"Good. Keep thinking about it, because it won't happen."

"But Seto, it will. It will. It has to happen sometime. I'm already thinking about possible candidates and activities for each one."

"The only girl you're allowed to hang out with, not date, hang out with, is that Rachel Hawkins girl."

"But she's nine. And she's Rebecca, not Rachel."

"She's very mature. "

"How would you know? You can't even get her name right."

"Doesn't she have an IQ of 170? She's already been accepted into three Ivy League schools."

"Seto, she listens to Miley Cyrus."

Mokuba rewarded himself for that parry with a forkful of the moist cake.

"Alright, Mokuba. You may date. However, it must be with at least one other peer, and it must be in a public place, or at least at a home with parents present."

"Thanks, Seto." Mokuba washed down another mouthful of fudge and raspberry with tea. "You know, you should think about dating, too. It will help you relax. Besides, maybe we could even double date."

"I'm far too busy, Mokuba."

"Come on, Seto, it has to happen sometime. You're getting up there. There're plenty of girls at your school who would like to date you. "

"I don't think so, Mokuba."

"Seto, you, of all people, should not be shy about girls."

Kaiba's fists tightened around his teacup. What a stupid, condescending thing to say. Was Mokuba joking? Didn't he remember? Didn't he know?

Of course he wouldn't remember. He certainly wouldn't know. Kaiba had seen to that. His fists relaxed.

"Plus, you're a pretty handsome guy, not that I would know, this is just what the reporters say. Lots of girls would want to have sex with you."

Kaiba spasmed and his tea bubbled around his lips. He dabbed at his mouth and chin with a napkin and hoped he hadn't betrayed his aura of detached competence.

"How would you know anything about that subject, pray tell?"

"Seto, I'm twelve. Haven't you been listening? I'm surprised you know enough about it to know what I was talking about."

Kaiba's fatherly side was put on the back burner for a moment, a brief moment, and the big brother who must be the best came forward. "I know more than YOU."

Mokuba snorted into his tea. "Doubt it."

Kaiba remembered his research, and his role as father figure. "Go to bed, Mokuba."

Mokuba, who just last week begged for just one more game, one more movie, one more piece of cake, who just two years ago (Two years? No, it was just LAST year) pled for just one more bedtime story, just one more chapter, simply stood and stretched. He strutted to the door, then turned around and faced Kaiba.

"I know what a rainbow party is, Seto. Do you?"

And with that, he turned and walked out, closing he door gently behind him.

Kaiba got up and moved the tray of crumbs, raspberry smears, and dregs of shredded tea leaves into the hallway. He locked the door behind him. He brushed his teeth, flossed, and gargled. He turned off all the lights.

His laptop glowed icy blue in the darkness. He changed into a clean t-shirt and flannel pants. He might as well be comfortable in that regard.
He put the laptop back on his belly and began his research.