Sometimes it feels like the more substantial chapters of this project are like two or three chapters of "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes" glued together and slipped beneath one title. Then again, maybe that's how it's always been, and I just haven't noticed until now.
In any case, as mentioned, this chapter returns us to the "present" timeline of the story. The flashbacks, after Heaven knows only how long, have reached their conclusion, and we return to the here and now.
Sort of. This story's still set about five years in the past. But we won't tell anyone about that, will we?
No. I didn't think so.
By the way, points for anyone who catches the reference to one of my earlier projects in this chapter. I just tossed it in there for fun.
Enjoy.
1.
Mokuba Kaiba came home from school on November 2nd, 2007, expecting Akiko to greet him as he walked into the front parlor, as she'd been doing most every weekday for months. She didn't.
The young Kaiba idly wondered if maybe she had requested a day off. Maybe she was going to take a weekend trip with her boyfriend? Did she have a boyfriend? Maybe she was sick. Frowning, he almost took out his phone to call her. Then he realized how ridiculous that was, how paranoid that would seem, and decided against it.
He set up in the dining room and started on his homework. Mokuba was no stranger to being on his own. Even on days when the house was "full," there were enough rooms and halls and random passageways that he often felt alone. It had bothered him for a while, but he'd gotten used to it again. The quiet was peaceful. The solitude was bracing. It helped him focus.
It wasn't until he was long finished with his work, and had gone into his bedroom for a while to edit a PowerPoint presentation for an end-of-quarter project, that he started to wonder again. Checking the clock in one corner of his computer monitor, he saw that it was after five.
Mokuba frowned, and decided to go searching.
He checked his brother's office; nothing. He checked the game room, thinking maybe Seto had decided to use some of his minimal free time to scope out his latest competition (or maybe he was just hoping); nothing. He spent a good half an hour searching through random rooms, wondering where anybody might be, and it would have felt like a treasure hunt except that he could feel worry blossoming into panic in his chest.
He finally heard something somewhere on the eastern end of the house, and followed it without thinking what it was that he was hearing. He stepped onto the hardwood floor of his brother's gym, and let out a relieved sigh.
Seto was currently pummeling a punching bag into submission. The only sounds he made were short, sharp breaths and the occasional grunt of effort. His face was a picture in focused determination, his body a fine-tuned machine, and he looked to have been at it for quite some time, if the sweat that dampened his shirt was any indication.
Mokuba had rarely ever seen Seto like this, even though he knew his brother trained often. He was wearing loose track pants, leather training shoes, a sleeveless black t-shirt, and thick black gloves. It struck the younger Kaiba that he was one of a scant handful of people who actually knew what Seto looked like under the layers of obstinate cloth he usually wore. Here was a man in peak physical condition; his arms were more than well-toned, legitimately muscular, and although the rest of him was covered, Mokuba knew that his brother kept his entire body in equally rare form. Seto refused to let the sedentary nature of his job turn him into the flabby sack of disease and sluggishness that so many of his contemporaries seemed content to be.
Smart, strong, a master of martial arts and the human condition.
Seto Kaiba was Batman.
Mokuba watched his brother for a while, smiling unconsciously, then noticed Akiko standing in one corner of the room. She was holding a towel and standing near a jug of water. Mokuba wasn't an expert on reading faces, but he knew…appreciation when he saw it. His face reddened slightly, and he turned his gaze away.
"…Are you sure that's how you want to handle him, Seto-sama?" Akiko asked. "Forgive me, but that seems rather…cavalier."
"I don't think he deserves much better," Seto said, landing a particularly savage blow with his right fist.
"So, then, you aren't worried at all?"
"No."
"…I wish I had your confidence."
Seto eventually finished, and stepped over to Akiko without responding. She didn't seem to have expected a reply. She handed him the towel, which he used to wipe himself off, and then the jug of water. Seto took a long pull before turning and finally acknowledging the other half of his audience. "Do you need something?" he asked.
"Just wondering when you got it into your head to have a life outside of me," Mokuba replied smoothly, unable to deny his curiosity but deciding it wasn't prudent to indulge it for now. "Don't you both know by now that I'm the center of the universe?"
Seto smirked. "Of course. I forget myself." He bowed deeply. "Deepest apologies, my most gracious lord and host. Whatever was I thinking?"
Akiko followed her employer's lead, and bowed her head. "Forgive us," she intoned quietly, solemnly.
"Yes, yes, that will do," Mokuba said loftily. "Hey, Niisama? Rebecca comes home from Egypt tomorrow. I was thinking maybe we could meet her at the airport?"
Seto raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Fine."
"Rebecca?" Akiko asked keenly, and an amused smirk curved her lips. "Who's Rebecca? Hm?" She crossed her arms and eyed Mokuba suspiciously. "Have you been holding out on me?"
Mokuba's blush returned tenfold. "It's…it's not like that," he said. "She's a friend."
"Mm-hm. Sure, she is. I've got your number." She quirked an eyebrow at Seto. "They grow up fast these days."
"Mm," Seto offered, hanging his towel over one shoulder and heading for the doorway. As he passed Mokuba, he ruffled the boy's hair with one gloved hand.
Akiko picked up the jug of water and followed suit. "Be sure to dress sharp, Bocchan," she said. She'd started calling him that a while ago, and Mokuba found that it didn't bother him as much as the other pet names he'd been called in the past. He wasn't sure if it was because of the title itself, or because of the person using it. "Wouldn't want to disappoint Rebecca, now, would we?"
Mokuba pouted and said, loudly and with a lot more whine in his voice than he would have liked, "She's not my girlfriend!"
Akiko just laughed.
2.
Yugi had always paid close attention to the Kaibas. At first, it had been with disdain, same as for his other friends—though, certainly, it had never been quite as intense as theirs. Kaiba had never been one for good first impressions; he seemed to feed off of the disapproval of others. But eventually, sometime around the halfway mark of the Duelist Kingdom debacle, Yugi had started watching them simply out of interest.
He'd known that Mokuba and Rebecca Hawkins went to the same school, and that they'd started hanging around together. He could still remember the day when the two of them had come to the Turtle Game Shop, and Rebecca had scared him halfway to a heart attack, calling out "Daaaarliiiiiiing!" and making him drop about $800 worth of merchandise all across the floor.
Over the past couple of years, she seemed to have cooled off, and that was a good thing. She'd started—under her grandfather's guidance—funneling her tournament winnings into various avenues to set her future in order, and it had crossed Yugi's mind more than once that, financially, she was better off than her guardian—and she was only twelve.
It was no surprise, he thought, that she and Mokuba would hit it off. So it wasn't out of place to see Mokuba and his brother waiting at the gate with Yugi and his mother. For her part, Natsumi Mutou was a nervous wreck. She was concerned, and rightly so, for her father's health, and had been iffy at best on him going to Egypt of all places at his age. But, Solomon was just as stubborn and obstinate as he'd ever been, and he'd gone.
The three travelers came into view with that kind of half-dazed euphoria that often comes at the end of a vacation, and didn't notice anyone at first. All three had nurtured some degree of a tan, though Solomon and Professor Hawkins had apparently been hell-bent on staying as pale as humanly possible; Yugi thought that if they'd gone somewhere cooler, they'd have come back transparent.
Solomon endured his daughter all but tackling him to the floor. Professor Hawkins assumed his usual, imperial air; he was an old soul, and always had a look about him that bespoke wisdom, experience, with just enough of a twinkle in his eye to suggest that he didn't spend his free time playing shuffleboard. He was old-fashioned, but his smiles were genuine.
Still, he had much more in common with the man in the $50,000 suit than he did with the man in overalls that he called his best friend.
Kaiba nodded curtly to the man; Professor Hawkins nodded back.
"Mokuba!"
A bundle of unbridled excitement, the polar opposite of her calm and reserved role model, Rebecca Hawkins barreled into the younger Kaiba brother, laughing as she did it. Mokuba hugged her back, somewhat awkwardly, and Yugi spied something suspiciously resembling tears in his eyes. He supposed that wasn't a surprise; Mokuba still wasn't used to having a social circle that didn't wear dress socks and ties at any given moment.
"Hi," Mokuba offered, not displeased but obviously embarrassed at the prolonged physical contact.
"It's so good to see you!" Rebecca cried, finally pulling back, and immediately launched into a narrative of her various exploits. Then Mokuba started talking about a new project Kaiba-Corp was working on, and their conversation dissolved into a series of segues and tangents that made no sense to anyone but the two of them.
Yeah. They were friends, all right. Yugi chuckled.
"Are you quite done?" Solomon was asking, as he extricated himself from Natsumi's arms. He glanced at Yugi.
"How'd it go?" Yugi asked dutifully.
"Well enough. We didn't find much, but it was nice to…ah…put on the old uniform." He winked at the professor, who nodded wistfully. "How's the store?" Solomon asked, his eyes suddenly blazing.
Yugi handed his grandfather a manila folder. "Take a look," he said.
"Oh, save that for later!" Natsumi said sharply, snatching the folder from her father's hands. "You know good and well Yugi did fine. Now come on. Let's get your luggage and go home. You took plenty of pictures, didn't you?"
Solomon rolled his eyes and fished a camera out of a side pocket. He handed it over.
As the small group began to gravitate toward baggage claim, Rebecca asked, "So how come you're so dolled up? On your way to a meeting?" She was obviously referring to the fact that Mokuba was dressed in a suit and tie, and that his hair was pulled back into a braid. Yugi hadn't consciously noticed this, and it crossed his mind that he'd grown so used to seeing both Kaibas dressed like that that he couldn't remember the days of jeans and sneakers, of leather boots and studded coats.
"Just left one, actually," Mokuba said, though he looked uncomfortable again.
Yugi saw that Kaiba was smirking now, even chuckling a little, and looking everywhere but his fidgeting brother.
3.
By the time Connor Brinkley had honestly gotten to know his new best friend, Rebecca Hawkins had already left on her trip. He'd seen her around, knew her name, and he'd even exchanged a handful of words with her, but all in all he knew just as little about her as he did any other girl at East Rivers. So when she invited him and Mokuba to sit with her at lunch one day, he wasn't sure what to think. He accepted the invitation, because it would have been rude not to, but that was pretty much the only reason.
Most of his meal was spent feeling petrified that he might say the wrong thing, surrounded as he was by a group of the most talkative girls he'd ever seen. Rebecca slipped in and out of the rush of conversation as easily as a fish through a current, and Mokuba seemed able to keep up well enough—mostly because they all fell into a hush whenever he spoke—but Connor was mostly silent, electing to engage in his second-favorite pastime of watching people.
"Who's your friend?" one of the girls asked Mokuba eventually, and Connor realized—to his horror—that they were batting their eyelashes at him. He let out a little "eep!" sound and stared down at the tattered remnants of his turkey sandwich. This resulted in a chorus of giggles that caused him to blush furiously.
"C'mon, guys," Rebecca said. "Leave him alone." Connor looked up at her. "Connor, isn't it? I've seen you around."
"Y-Yeah," Connor said, grateful. "You're…Rebecca Hawkins. The famous duelist."
"Oh, you've heard of me." Rebecca grinned. "Extra Scrabble points for you. Do you play?"
"…Kind of. I mean, I'm just…you know. Getting started. Sort of. Mokuba taught me the rules."
"Fresh blood. I love it."
"He's playing modest," Mokuba said. "He's beaten me a few times."
"Only 'cuz you held back!" Mokuba contracted a mysterious case of deafness and didn't respond. "I'm not at your level. Nowhere close."
"I've never even placed in a tournament," Mokuba said. "Niisama's the duelist. Not me."
"Oh, that makes me feel better." It became rather obvious; now that he was actually talking with someone, instead of at someone, Connor had gained a certain level of confidence.
"Hey, you beat Joey once, over at the shop," Mokuba offered nonchalantly.
"I didn't win. He lost. He keeps using that Time Magician strategy all the time."
"And what did he tell you when you said that to him? A win is a win. Don't sell yourself short."
Connor frowned, obviously unconvinced. "You keep letting me win. Both of you."
"Excuse me?" Mokuba looked (jokingly) affronted. "Do you remember who I live with? If he caught wind I was letting you win at Magic & Wizards, he'd flay me alive."
"Which is why you never tell him." Connor eyed his friend suspiciously. "And no, he wouldn't. He's wrapped around your finger. He'd lecture you for five minutes and then take you out for ice cream."
"He has a point," Rebecca put in, looking entirely too amused.
Mokuba pouted. "Whose side are you on? Niisama doesn't do that. Well…okay, he doesn't always do that. Don't look at me like that! He doesn't."
Rebecca caught Connor's attention and rolled her eyes.
Connor grinned.
There was a sparkle in Mokuba's eye that contrasted rather strikingly with the frown on his face.
4.
Seto was his brother's legal guardian; in every way that really counted, he was Mokuba's father. He had prided himself on this very fact for the past eleven years, and had fought tooth and nail for the privilege of it. To how many people had he been forced to prove himself capable of it? Mentally, physically, emotionally, legally? Nearly his every waking moment was spent constructing contingency plans for…whatever trouble in which Mokuba might find himself next.
Yet it had never struck him quite so pointedly just what it meant to be a parent than on the days when he sat with Enid and Leonard Brinkley, listening to Mokuba and Connor talk and laugh and break things in the next room, while he participated in "polite conversation."
Seto was not antisocial. He was selectively social. He knew better than most people how to conduct himself with others. He answered their questions frankly but tactfully, he chuckled in the appropriate places, and nobody but the most gifted of psychoanalysts—and Mokuba—would have been able to read past the pleasant expression on his face and understand the skull-rending boredom threatening to make his brain explode.
He had nothing against the Brinkleys. In point of fact, he rather liked them. They were nice enough, they were dedicated parents, they clearly loved each other. They were the perfect example of a healthy couple.
And they reminded Seto with nearly every statement precisely why he was a bachelor.
"Leo, stop it!" Enid slapped her husband, but she giggled like a girl of twelve as she did it. "I did not say that!"
"It was written on your face. Someone might as well have used a marker on your forehead."
For the first time, Seto thought he could relate to Matt Kerns, who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch as his aunt and uncle, looking like he wanted to swallow a bullet.
If Mokuba hadn't been otherwise preoccupied, he might have put a warning hand on his brother's leg and gave him the look. The one that said, under no uncertain terms: "Stop it; it's not their fault you hate things."
Seto had already mentally recited the periodic table twice by the time Mokuba burst into the room. His sparkling eyes seemed to scan each of them; he was like a superhero, bound and determined to erase negativity from the face of the earth.
Every muscle in Seto's body relaxed.
"Hi, Niisama," the black-haired boy offered, sitting himself next to his brother. Connor came out next, more slowly but no less bubbly.
"Don't let them stop you, Leo," Enid muttered snidely. "Please. Continue."
Connor gave his parents a searching look. Leonard said, "We were just talking about our last family camping trip," by way of an explanation.
Connor's face lit up. "The time Mom ran over that old lady's laundry?"
Seto had to bite his tongue to keep from rolling his eyes, thinking, How can something be adorable and pathetic at the same time?
Mokuba looked concerned now, and his eyes were locked on Seto's face.
He put one hand on Seto's leg.
Seto raised an eyebrow. "What?"
The smirk that rose on Mokuba's face was entirely too familiar for Seto's tastes. "Did you tell Mister and Missus Brinkley about the last time we went camping?"
"…I have no idea what you're talking about."
Connor blinked. "I can't picture that."
"What do you mean, you have—you threw me in a lake!"
Seto's face remained deliberately oblivious. "It was a valuable life lesson."
"You auditioning to be the new host of Man VS Wild isn't a life lesson!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Connor said. "I have to hear this. What happened?"
Mokuba launched into the story, and Seto was only mildly surprised at how much better he was at spinning a narrative—then again, he'd been trained for it. But his mind didn't register what his brother was saying.
Seto's mind was focused on Matt Kerns, even if his eyes weren't.
Focused on the sheer ugliness of the look he was leveling on Mokuba.
END.
