This is quickly becoming my favorite story to work on, and I wonder perhaps if it's because it's so...normal. This, I think, marks the first time I've tried to put the characters of my favorite childhood anime into a truly believable context. Not to say it won't have its share of flair. I have some tricks up my sleeve. But as I said in the first chapter, my goal here is to shed light on them. I'm sure you've realized by now that my focus, as always, is Seto and Mokuba, but I have plans to extend to the other members of the cast. One plan, in particular, I'm very excited to work on.
This story is the first of many multi-parters, and currently the shortest at two parts. I do this to retain an episodic structure, because the more I work on this story, the more I realize that it feels more like an anime than a novel. I'm pleased with this, to be honest. I hope that you are, too.
1.
"Y'ever...wonder what he's gonna end up like?"
Seto was sorely tempted to tell Joey that just because they happened to be on almost-civil terms with each other now didn't mean he had an open invitation to converse with him whenever he wanted, but reminded himself that the blond was essentially providing Mokuba with a free bodyguard.
So, for Mokuba's sake, he held his tongue and said instead, "...What?"
Joey looked up and shrugged. "Well, like...how he's gonna look. What he's gonna do. How he's gonna act. Y'know, all that stuff. Ever...cross your mind?"
Seto was, again, tempted to write the question off as mindlessly idiotic, but nonetheless found himself considering it. After a bit of thought, he finally answered:
"...Perhaps more than is healthy."
"Yeah?" came the reply, in a lighter tone than Seto thought he had ever heard from Joey (directed at him, anyway). "Me, too."
Seto shot him a confused, almost disgusted look.
Joey caught himself. "Uh...y'know. With...with Serenity. It's like...like she was still this little girl last week. Y'know? Wearin' a frilly pink dress with some cartoon character on her li'l princess shoes, wavin' a toy magic wand around like she was a fairy. And now...well, she don't visit much, really, but every time...just...I mean, she's gettin' offers for dates now, man! The hell do I do 'bout that?"
Seto raised an eyebrow. "Beat them," he said dryly.
Joey actually laughed. "I like that plan! Simple stuff. But seriously...I mean, you go through those kinds o' thoughts 'bout Mokuba? Like, what his first girlfriend's gonna be like? I swear, man, I hope the first guy Ren goes out with ain't a damn thing like me. I might have to kill 'im."
Seto smirked, but it wasn't his usual, "I'm better than you are" smirk. It was more a...smirk of shared opinion. Like he knew precisely what Joey was talking about.
"I remember..." Seto found himself saying, perhaps just as (if not more) surprised at Joey to hear it, "...teaching him to walk. Hearing his first words."
"...Oh, c'mon, ya gotta tell me. What were they? I wanna make fun of 'im."
Seto's eyes narrowed, but he answered. "My name."
Joey blinked, taken aback. "Ah, hell. That ain't funny. That's just...that's too cute for words. Shit, man. So...so you...really raised the kid by yerself, didn'tcha?"
"I did."
Joey leaned back in his chair and considered this. "So...you really are...like, Mokuba's dad. Aren'tcha?"
"I am."
He said this without emotion. It was simple fact. Joey may as well have asked him if Mokuba were left- or right-handed. But when the blond looked up to regard Seto's face, he saw a kind of fierce, blazing pride there. Defiant, as if he thought Joey might try to refute the claim.
"Whatcha think he's gonna do? Think he'll take over the 'family business' or somethin'?"
Seto shrugged. "He may. And if he does, I will be grateful for that. But if he does not, then that is his choice. A part of me hopes that he does choose another path."
"Want 'im to...be 'is own man, huh?"
"Something like that."
"Well," Joey said, chuckling, "whatever it is, I betcha he'll be good at it. That kid's got better grades'n I ever dreamed of."
Seto smirked again, and that angry pride was back when he said, "He still worries because they are not as good as mine were."
"Huh," Joey huffed. "You one o' them straight-A, 4.7 GPA kinda guys? That it?"
"Yes."
Again, there was no emotion, no arrogance, in this proclamation. It was simply the way things were. And for the first time, Joey Wheeler wondered just what sort of childhood this teenage executive - for he did think that Seto was still technically a teenager...nineteen, if he remembered correctly - must have had, to view perfect grades as simply a fact of life.
"Good kid," Joey said, unsure of what else to say.
And Seto did not smirk; he smiled.
"Yes...he is."
2.
They called themselves "The Boys."
When Connor first told Mokuba about them, he was instantly suspicious. They were a group of...boys (surprise, surprise) both from his and Connor's middle school and the high school across the street. There were about seven or eight of them, ranging from nine to fourteen years old.
Most of them - six - were at or near Mokuba's own age. William Hunter, the fourteen-year-old, was the group's leader. The nine-year-old was named Owen Gregor; a squat, bitter little troll who had the petulant, whiny aura of having been spoiled since day one.
It was Hunter who had introduced Connor to his Boys. Mokuba remembered the name, and figured William to be the son of Yonick R. H. Hunter, a forty-year-old defense attorney and one-time associate of his brother's. He did not mention this to Connor.
"Oh, c'mon," Connor said, the week after having been introduced to The Boys when he finally decided to mention them to Mokuba. "I've been talking to Will and his friends for a while. They're pretty cool. Most of them are wealthy, like you."
Mokuba had resisted the urge to laugh.
He really hadn't wanted to meet a gang of spoiled little snobs (which he was not, thank you very much, because Niisama did not allow him to be), and figured that they would be boring, but he nevertheless found himself following Connor out to a construction site after school that day.
Mokuba wasn't sure what it was about The Boys that had set off his radar from the very beginning (he would know as soon as he actually saw them), but a part of him thought that he was simply letting his brother's overwhelming misanthropy (which, incidentally, was one of Mokuba's favorite words, because it just sounded funny) affect him too much.
But Connor had been excited, and so Mokuba had gone along. Who knew? Perhaps it would be worthwhile. He certainly hoped so, but he highly doubted it. He didn't bother asking why they were to meet Hunter at a construction site, of all things. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
As he walked, Mokuba slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, running the fingers of his right hand over the keys of his cell phone, hoping that he would have no need to use it.
3.
The construction site was owned by Kaiba-Corp.
Mokuba couldn't remember what specific function Seto had planned for the place, but whatever it was, it was big. Big enough for The Boys to have made it onto the site undetected. Mokuba, of course, didn't need to worry about being told to leave; his face was well enough known, and he was the vice-president, eleven years old or not.
William Hunter was waiting for them. He had wavy brown hair, green eyes, slightly pale skin, and an air of self-importance that instantly grated on the young Kaiba's nerves. The thing was, though, that Hunter wasn't nearly as bad as the rest of his Boys, who rallied behind their leader and looked as though they were the followers of some great military general, their arrogance borne not only from money but from the assertion that they were untouchable.
Because of Hunter.
"Hey..." the Head Boy said silkily, putting a slimy hand on Connor's shoulder. Mokuba felt a sudden urge to smack it away, but resisted it. No need to antagonize them this soon. They looked annoying, but there was still a verdict to be made.
"Hi, Will," Connor said with a grin. "Uh...this is Mokuba."
Mokuba didn't smile, nor did he even remove his hands from his pockets when Hunter looked over at him with a toothy grin. He wasn't in much of a mood to be especially friendly.
Most of Hunter's Boys were glaring at him, playing at being intimidating, and Mokuba thought that he might still attempt politeness on Connor's behalf, but upon seeing this group of which his best friend was so enamored, Mokuba felt no need to go any further than that.
He didn't know their names. Not all of them. But Owen Gregor looked as if he were preparing to eat him, and Eduardo "Scooter" Rodriguez - thirteen years old, loud, obnoxious, and irritating, even by Connor's admission - was sticking out his lower lip and puffing out his chest as if he thought Mokuba should quiver and kneel at the sight of him.
So...yeah. He'd be polite, but that was as far as he'd go.
"Hello, Mokuba," Hunter said, and he seemed to have decided the same thing. His tone was passably amiable (barely), but the wide, spit-shining smile on his lips didn't match the rest of his face. "Nice t' meetcha."
"We've met before," Mokuba said coolly.
"Have we?" Hunter asked, seeming surprised. "Forgive me."
Not on your life, Mokuba thought.
Connor looked anxiously optimistic, and the black-haired heir of Kaiba-Corp felt bad that he couldn't like these new friends of his. But Mokuba could tell that this would never work. This wasn't a group of friends; it was a gang, pure and simple.
And Connor had been unwittingly roped in as their newest scapegoat.
At the thought of it, Mokuba's face darkened.
Hunter had probably singled Connor Brinkley out on purpose. And as Mokuba thought of that, he felt a sudden surge of indignant, protective fury not unlike the sort his brother had felt so many, many times.
And the weird thing was...it felt good.
A smirk rose on Mokuba Kaiba's lips as he finally said, in a voice that easily betrayed the fact that he was lying:
"Sure, Will. No problem."
4.
The mood of The Boys darkened further.
They sensed something about Brinkley's friend, and the few of them who had actually met the boy's older brother - or, rather, seen him, as Seto Kaiba would have had no time to waste on any of them - understood what it was:
This Mokuba kid couldn't be fooled.
Though eight years younger than his legal guardian, Mokuba had learned the same lessons Seto had, and was anything but naïve. Not anymore. The easy target whose name was Brinkley had been simple, but Mokuba had proven, in the first few moments of meeting them, that he would not only be the precise opposite of simple; he would be impossible.
Mokuba saw through William Hunter as easily as Hunter had seen through Connor.
But even Connor was observant enough to have caught wind of the instantly hostile atmosphere, and his hope that things would go well between his new friends and his best friend all but evaporated. He bit his lower lip, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt.
"I guess you must be wondering why I picked this place for us to meet up, huh, Con?" Hunter asked, and at that nickname Mokuba's face twitched, but he said nothing.
"Well...yeah," Connor admitted uncertainly.
Mokuba looked entirely uninterested. Hunter saw this, and it seemed to irritate him. Scooter Rodriguez, too, didn't seem to care much for the black-haired boy's expression.
"Well, buddy," Hunter said, grinning his (over)confident grin, "here's the thing...see, we all want you in. You're a good guy, Con, and I think you'll fit right into our little group here. You, too, Mokuba," he seemed to add as an afterthought, sounding not the least bit sincere.
"Right," Mokuba muttered.
"Sure," said another boy, one whose name Mokuba didn't know, and he sounded at least marginally friendly. "I seen you around, Mokuba. You're Seto Kaiba's brother, right?"
"Mm," Mokuba mumbled, giving a curt, detached sort of nod.
"See?" Hunter chuckled. "We're all alike, here. Now, Con's family might not have much money, but...well, neither does yours, does it, Scoot?"
"Enh," Scooter Rodriguez snapped.
Hunter chuckled.
"It's the divine secret of the Blah-Blah Brotherhood," Mokuba muttered under his breath. "They lets in the po' folk."
Connor snickered.
"What's that?"
Mokuba resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that particular question, and the all too familiar tone with which it had been asked. He shrugged, waving his hands in a meaningless gesture.
"Nothing."
"...So yeah, we wantcha in, y'know, but...gotta make sure. Make sure you're made of the right stuff, right? So, uh...that's why we're here."
"If you want us 'in,'" Mokuba muttered, "then let us in. Proof will come. If you don't, then I'm leaving. I really appreciate you guys trying to glare me into a coma, but trust me; it doesn't work all that well."
"Yeah," Connor said, even though it was clear that he was nervous. "C'mon, guys, why are you so angry? I thought we were all friends, here? Or did I miss the definition of 'friend' somewhere?"
Hunter and Mokuba both blinked, somewhat surprised.
Hunter glanced back at his Boys. "All right guys, knock it off. If he's Con's friend, he gets the same fair shot as anybody. Save the crap for other fish."
It was clear that Hunter didn't much like giving this order, and The Boys liked it even less, but their frowns vanished - with effort. They stopped looking at Mokuba, and turned their attention to Connor.
Connor turned an apologetic eye to Mokuba, who smiled at him.
He winked.
"Okay, okay...still, you guys gotta do something for us, let us know what you're about, before it's official. We're...like a band of brothers, right? We wanna know if you're our brothers are not."
"Oh, goodie," Mokuba muttered. "I've been in the market for a new brother."
Connor laughed.
"Y'know, for somebody asking us to be nice, you're not helping much, Mokuba."
Mokuba grinned. "And for somebody acting like he's the leader of this band of brothers, you're not policing them very well. How about we stop this game of who-can-scare-who and you tell us what we're s'posed to do here?"
"Scooter!" Hunter snarled. "Stop that damn gangster act! We get it, your lip's big and your chest is impressive. Are you trying to prove him right?"
Scooter scowled, hunching low and sucking his lip into his mouth, seeming to chew on it. "...Ngh."
Mokuba got the feeling that Eduardo Rodriguez wasn't very well-liked even in his inner circle, and wondered why he was tolerated. But on looking at the dusty-skinned would-be street thug again, he realized that he didn't really want to know why.
He didn't want to know anything about Scooter Rodriguez.
"Okay, then," Hunter said, glancing at Scooter with irritation. "Well, see, here's the deal; there's a guy working here. And, uh...we don't get along so well, we Boys and this guy."
"Guy's a little bitch," Scooter put in, and Mokuba almost laughed at how ridiculously forced the curse sounded. It seemed rather obvious that this thirteen-year-old Mafioso was not allowed to speak that way in his home, and he made up for it by overcompensating (badly) when he wasn't there.
"His name's..." Hunter said, "Brian? Yeah. I think that's it. Brian Tuscadero."
"Tusca-fag-o," said Scooter.
Mokuba sighed long-sufferingly.
None of the other Boys seemed to appreciate this "addition," either. But they said nothing, and Hunter didn't look at him again. Scooter noticed that nobody laughed, but smirked anyway.
"And Tuscadero, it seems, was a bit forgetful today," Hunter continued without a hitch, and gestured.
Mokuba saw a power drill on top of a pile of wood.
"So what we wanna do," Hunter said, "is have a little fun with him. One o' you guys take that drill, there. And, uh...let's say...put it up there on the top floor? But...don't get caught, huh? That's the thing. Can't get caught."
"Ooh!" Mokuba cried in faux excitement. "I feel dangerous already! Count me out of this circus act, Hunter. I'm not stealing some guy's tools."
"Oh, no...not steal it. Who you think we are? We none of us have reason to steal. But, uh...whichever one grabs it? The other guy will go up next and, uh...maybe sabotage it? Y'know...take out a piece or two. Might remind ol' Tuscadero to keep his stuff where it's safe."
"Oh, right," Mokuba muttered. "That makes me feel better."
"I'm not breaking someone else's stuff," Connor said.
"Well, then," Hunter said, "maybe you should go first, Con. Let Mokie, here-"
"Don't...call me that."
Hunter blinked, surprised at the cold danger in Mokuba's tone. But there was no questioning the seriousness of that command. Mokuba's face had gone from simply hostile to outright angry, and it was clear that Mokuba was learning – quite adeptly – from his brother. Connor had a feeling, as he saw the way his friend was standing, the way he seemed to be ten seconds away from pouncing on Hunter and tearing out his throat, that the nickname "Mokie" was off-limits even to him. He wondered why, but only distantly. He knew, somehow, that Mokuba wouldn't answer.
Hunter was the first to recover.
"...Right. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Let Mokuba do the last part."
Mokuba scoffed. "Uh...no."
Hunter looked confused again, as if he honestly couldn't comprehend what he'd heard. "What do you mean, no? It's easy. Just this little thing for us, and you're in. Just gotta see if you guys got the right stuff to fit in."
"No," Mokuba repeated. "I'm not stealing or destroying someone else's property. It's pointless, it's stupid, and I'm not disappointing my brother by taking part in it. You aren't worth that. I'm out, Hunter. I'm not doing it."
Scooter scowled, and puffed out his lip again. "You a bitch, Mokuba?" he asked, and he might have sounded intimidating if Mokuba had been a normal kid. But he wasn't. "That it? Too damn chicken?"
"Oh, yes. I'm petrified. Bite me, Rodriguez. I'm not interested. My brother taught me better than this."
"Yeah, yeah," Scooter snapped with a wide, gap-toothed grin. "Taughtcha better, huh? You sayin' yer better'n us, Moku-bitch? Huh? Huh?"
Mokuba's eyes were hard. His hands were still in his pockets, and he pressed a button on his phone. After two seconds, he pressed another, and held it down.
"...That's exactly what I'm saying, you brainless shit."
5.
Seto started at the sound of his phone, but only slightly.
He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and glanced at it, but before he could answer, the ring stopped. He frowned, and Joey raised an eyebrow at him.
"Wrong number?" the blond asked, realizing perhaps for the first time just how alien this situation was; the fact that he asked the question, and perhaps the further fact that Seto didn't immediately snap at him to mind his own damned business, showed him just how alien.
"No..." Seto murmured, and Joey thought that maybe the reason he hadn't been snapped at was because the young CEO was distracted. He punched a button. "It was Mokuba. But he hung up."
He put the phone to his ear.
"Maybe the kid pushed the wrong button," Joey said. "Hung up when he saw it."
"He doesn't call my personal number often," Seto said, and Joey thought this was a bit strange. "He...doesn't like to bother me. If he's calling, there's a reason."
His frown deepened as he pulled the phone away. "Straight to voicemail. He turned it off."
"Battery run out, maybe?" Joey asked. "Call again. Could be a glitch're somethin'. Happens to me all'a time."
Seto did so, but shook his head again. "No. He turned it off. And if the battery did run out, then he still wants to talk to me. Something's happened."
"You sure you ain't lookin' too far into this?" Joey asked. "Yer soundin' kinda paranoid to me, Kaiba. Calm down. He's prob'ly fine. Even 'at Matt prick ain't stupid enough to pull some shit this fast."
"No," Seto said flatly. "He called me. And now his phone's off. He called for a reason, and I have to find out what." He punched in another number, and Joey heard the ring. On the second, there was an answer.
"Master Kaiba," came a muffled, male voice.
"Roland," Seto replied, "Mokuba just sent a call, but didn't answer. Now his phone is turned off. Find him."
"At once, Master Kaiba." Seto waited, and about thirty seconds later, Roland's voice came back. "The last call...that Young Master Mokuba sent was...from a...ah! The construction site of the new hospital, sir."
Seto quirked an eyebrow. "...Right."
"The call was made...two minutes ago? Thereabout?"
"That's it."
"Very good. So, uh...shall I send someone there, sir?"
"You do that," Seto said. "I'm on my way."
He hung up his phone and stood up, sweeping over to the front door of the Turtle Game Shop and out toward his car. Joey sped to catch up with him, looking confused.
"Hey, c'mon, Kaiba, you sure you ain't...?"
"No," Seto said sharply, "I am not sure. But if something has happened, what sort of excuse is, 'I didn't want to seem paranoid'?"
Joey stopped, startled, and stared at Seto for a moment. Seto looked back, and his eyes were simultaneously cold and blazing. Joey was suddenly reminded that this was a man he had butted heads with several times, and further reminded by the ice-fire set of his eyes that Seto had always come out on top.
He sighed, realizing that it had happened again, and shook his head incredulously as he slipped into the passenger's seat of Seto's Veyron. Seto didn't say a word.
Why the hell's he always right? Joey thought irritably.
END
Maybe you've noticed the same thing I have. I don't think it's any real surprise, but Mokuba always seems to be much more...assertive, shall we say, when he's by himself. When Seto isn't around, specifically. The reason for this, as I've tried to replicate here and plan to do again in the future, is that he feels safe with Seto. And, much like his Niisama, when he doesn't feel safe, he puts up a wall. Seto's wall, more often than not, seems to be sheer stubbornness, such as in the face of magic. The existence of magic threatens Seto's equilibrium, and so he obstinately holds to the convention that it doesn't exist so that he can retain it.
Mokuba is doing something similar here, out of survival instinct. As mentioned in chapter 4, he's learned that the most important thing to never do in the face of a threat is to show that it's working. So, he's doing what Niisama would do: mocking it. In the absence of the man himself, Mokuba is calling on his memory to help him through this rough patch. I think that's what he's always done.
I'm sure you realize, though, what happens next. It's Niisama to the rescue (along with a sidekick this time around), folks. So tune in next time. You'll be glad you did.
