Author's Notes: I think it's pretty obvious in this chapter that I LOVE Mokuba. I WUV him probably more than I love Seto or Téa or Yugi or any of the rest of the cast. I LOVE HIM! And he always figures prominently in my YGO story ideas (which have been growing and growing and growing -_-;) Please note the fic challenge at the end of this chapter!
Playing Tag
Chapter One: Tag
By Kysra
His world was a palette of white and gray bleeding into a circle of screaming pink and yellow. Grasping the hard plastic grip of a girlish, undersized umbrella, his eyes shot from the taut contours of the mobile canopy to the fast retreating figure of the girl who had so abruptly baffled and abandoned. Not only had Motou's friend given him her unwanted and unneeded umbrella, she had skipped away like a precocious five year old after issuing a childish, inane challenge. The girl had obviously lost what little sense he had previously credited to her, and he wouldn't rise to her jibe. It was quite evident from her nonsensical, flighty behavior that she was ignorant of who she was dealing with.
And yet . . . What is her game?
The warning flash of the 'Walk' signal forced him to move, his eyes unwilling to leave their study of the Gardner girl's still-visible-but-barely form, his feet desiring a path in a direction similar to hers as halting, reluctant steps took him across the street and away from the new puzzle he suddenly wished to solve.
"I don't have time for this foolishness," he grumbled under his breath, long legs taking wide steps and carrying him quickly to his destination, the pepto pink and banana yellow nylon panels of Téa's umbrella shading him from the still falling rain. It was only honest truth. Preparations for his move to America were already in the works as he planned to open a new administrations and operations building in the States, a project he had undertaken to oversee personally. The temporary leasing agreements, licensing, contracting, and legal niceties were yet incomplete or unprocessed let alone the provisions for the various building, decorating, and training crews he had managed to secure from several different countries (the best of the best, as it were) that needed to be attended to.
Certainly, he had help in his secretary and underlings; however, this had neither been planned by his adopted father nor prompted by provisions in his will. This was something Seto was doing on his own steam, and he felt that since it was largely a unilateral decision, it should be a unilateral effort. He had even drawn up his own architectural plans with the valued input of experienced and world-renowned builders.
And somehow, through all the pouring over blueprints, conversing (mostly yelling) with his associates in the U. S., and assembling the required paperwork, he had managed to keep up with school work, maintain his usual schedule of chair meetings and public appearances, and still had time to pick-up Mokuba from school and attend the junior high soccer games (Mokuba was goalie).
And people wonder why I don't have a social life. Though some were willing to accuse him - quite unjustly, he thought - of preferring his machines over any sort of human society or feeling. His hand tightened on the already wind-stressed umbrella as the guarded non-expression on his face became the intimidating scowl most were familiar with as his thoughts were consumed by the memory of furious tears and scolding words tinted by desperate passion.
Really, he shouldn't have expected anything less from her. She had always been self-righteous and spirited. Life seemed to sparkle visibly around her at times, circling her with an aura so bright it was nearly blinding, a small hint as to the exhausting personality within; and Gardner would never know she had dazzled him from the first with her ready smile and forceful sensitivity.
Back then, she had followed him around like a kitten entranced by potential prey, constantly inviting him to places he couldn't visit, introducing him to people he wasn't allowed to know, and just generally trying to outfit him with a ready-made best friend. Her efforts had gone to waste, however, through no desire on his part.
Gozaburo had been a hard taskmaster, strict in his instruction, unyielding in his demands, and insensitive in his parenting. Seto had been bred as Gozaburo's successor, and, with that in mind, Gozaburo had determined that Seto didn't need friends, therefore he would have none. It was only the want to please his adoptive father that caused Seto to obey the man's orders on the issue (and several others); but Seto Kaiba was not one to let regrets of the past color the present. His life wasn't perfect nor particularly content, but he had what he needed - his brother, an education, and financial security - and that was all that mattered.
Then why the hell do you keep thinking about her? His scowl darkened before the umbrella was perfunctorily closed and lowered to his side. Perhaps if he didn't have pink and yellow tinted shadows throwing themselves against his clothes and the circle of mottled reflection at his feet his mind wouldn't dredge up even more unsavory thought material. He was already wet. What did it matter if he exposed himself yet again to the elements?
Absently, his feet trekked the short distance to Domino Junior High to collect his brother from soccer practice while his mind gave thanks that he hadn't taken the limo today. Wet dirt = mud + kids = mess, and with Mokuba's competitive attitude (only slightly less defined than his brother's), it's bound to be catastrophic. Seto didn't even want to think of the drama that would probably erupt tonight over his younger brother's beloved hair.
Running one hand along the metal wire fence surrounding the schoolyard, Seto's eyes were drawn to the tree he had frequented during lunch periods when he had first arrived in Domino City to begin a new life with a new last name. There had been good times here, even if he had been alone for most of them; and even though he had been raised to scoff at sentiment, Seto acknowledged that part of himself that was somewhat leery of leaving, though he suspected the feeling was due more to the prospect of leaving his brother than out of any kind of personal connection to this town and its people.
"Big Brother!" A mud-covered figure with a familiar voice and a tangle of slush-soaked hair, barreled into him before belting his body with small-but-still-growing arms. He couldn't help the good-humored smile from breaking over his face as he looked down into the muck-smeared features of his little brother, not even minding that his uniform and favorite coat was now hopelessly dirty.
Mokuba's embrace was briefly returned before the boy pulled away to first ask after the limo then chastise Seto for walking in the rain without proper protection against it.
"I felt like some exercise," Seto offered as his defense. Mokuba snorted derisively, and Seto smirked at him. It was common knowledge in the Kaiba household that Seto woke well before dawn (if he slept at all - Mokuba had his doubts) to jog the city streets before returning to their personal gym to train till it was time for school; and with his normal activities, both school and business oriented, the last thing Seto needed was more exercise.
It was only one of several similar but diverging qualities between them. Both brothers were highly active people, but where Mokuba preferred the outward aggressive chaos of the playing field as an athlete, Seto favored the controlled, passive forms of the martial arts - karate, tai chi, and the occasional set of yoga - as well as other physical diversions that only required and involved the self as opposed to a group. Their choices in such areas, Mokuba often thought, reflected their differing attitudes on life in general.
They were about to begin the long walk home when Seto noticed the red and brown stained bandage wrapped messily around Mokuba's knee, "What happened?"
Mokuba gave his brother a questioning look before realization inspired his mouth to form a small 'o', "Scraped it up good while trying to block the ball."
"Did you get it?"
The younger boy shot Seto a satisfied grin, "Yep."
Seto smiled back and ruffled the boy's already mussed (and tangled and dirty) hair.
They walked in silence for some minutes before Mokuba cleared his throat, trying to contain the giggle bubbling in his throat when he saw the pink and yellow umbrella still clutched in Seto's hand, "So . . . trying to make a fashion statement?" Honestly, yellow and pink? What was his brother thinking? Mokuba knew better than anyone that his brother's wardrobe consisted primarily of black, blue, and (the occasional) white garments. Seto would NEVER own something so . . . feminine.
"What?"
"The umbrella."
"Oh."
Silence.
Blinking owlishly up at Seto, Mokuba watched the proud smile fade from the older boy's face as he stared straight ahead, the hard line of his mouth indicating the return of his usual scowl. Perhaps he had asked the question in the wrong way.
"Er . . . where did you get the umbrella, Seto? And why aren't you using it?"
Again, silence.
Ooooooookay, that Seto failed to answer such an innocent question twice could only mean one thing, he's hiding something. What he was hiding, Mokuba couldn't even begin to speculate, but he figured it had to do with a girl since no self-respecting male would be carrying around a pink and yellow umbrella.
Probably one of the girls from his "fan club" at school. It was plausible and easily dismissed; however, Seto was usually vocal about his dislike for the "blubbering female sycophants" who made daily visits to Seto's locker between classes to present him with gifts and little notes proclaiming their undying affection and begging him to date them. The only reason he would possibly be silent about them was if he actually LIKED the girl who gave him the umbrella . . . or was confused. Mokuba would be more willing to bet his money on the confused option.
'Kay, so big brother's confused . . . now to figure out who is confusing him. And suddenly he was at a dead end. Such is life, Mokuba gave a mental shrug.
It was about that time that he realized Seto was no longer walking beside him. Stopping in his tracks, Mokuba looked over his shoulder to see Seto standing near the fenced in schoolyard seemingly staring into the space beneath a sturdy maple, his eyes glazed over with remembrance and a tender expression etched on his face. It was a look he had never seen Seto display before except once . . . a very long, almost forgotten, time ago.
*That night . . . *
Some called him a genius but, in reality . . .
He was a complete and utter idiot.
"Stupid," he muttered to and towards himself in the darkness, his eyes focused on some random point outside his bedroom window. Against his better judgement, he had stayed up for hours thinking about her instead of doing legitimate work, and he had finally deduced her game.
Six years ago, under the spread branches of a spring-wakened tree, she had invited him to a game which he had declined but promised to play with her later. Since he had not kept that promise, she must have decided to keep it for him. Her labeling of him as "it" must have been her informal invitation.
So the ball was in his court, so to speak. He could deal with that after all the trouble she had gone to (not to mention, the courage and raw nerve she must have had to scrounge up) to initiate this little foray into regaining a rapidly disappearing childhood.
Of course he would play her little game. There was no real loss or gain in it, and it just wouldn't do to forfeit or lose by default. He would play and win. Period.
Obviously, the rules were a bit sketchy. He couldn't chase her around school, and she couldn't hide in the most literal sense. As far as he knew, neutral ground had not been determined or defined, and he wasn't sure if all her friends were involved as well. I hope not, he couldn't help the thought from slipping. This was between him and her. He didn't want any interference.
Now to decide how to approach the issue.
If he remembered correctly, the aim of the first party (i.e. Gardner) was to stay away from the second party (Seto) in order to avoid the dreaded label "it." The aim of the second party was to "tag" the first party in order to pass the label "it" onto the first party. Very well, but he would not enter the fray without a certain flair of style. She had given him her umbrella, tagged him, and become his prey; and every good hunter knew that success depended solely on the bait.
As he studied the calendar upon the opposite wall of his bedroom, a plan began to form in his mind as an almost evil little grin stretched across his face.
In a week and a half, Miss Téa Gardner would learn why one should never forward a challenge to Seto Kaiba. He might just accept.
*March 14 - White Day*
Memories were his enemy. They would lead him down a road to sentiment and emotional overtures. It was a road that had been (presumably) permanently closed to him for a very long time due - primarily - to Gozaburo's efforts.
And yet, he could not suppress the internal smile that had plagued him since waking this morning. His first thought as he rose to greet the day had been of her, just as his last thought before sleeping had been of her. And, in his dreams, he had remembered. Six years ago, just as she had invited him to a game, she had snuck Valentine chocolates in his locker; and though he had been planning this day for over a week, it had never really registered WHY he had chosen today to do this. Now, with remembrance came understanding, and if he had been anyone else, he could admit he would probably be bouncing in his seat.
It wasn't often, he became excited at the prospect of doing something unexpected as he rarely did anything spontaneously without overthinking it first.
As it was, he could barely keep his eyes off her as the teacher droned on and on about logarithms and sine this, cosine that, You'll-need-this-in-college etc. etc., and If-you-think-this-is-useless-now-wait-till-you- get-in-the-real-world blah blah blah. Her head was bowed over her notebook, pen poised and awaiting something worth note-taking status. He noted the crossed ankles and the impatient bobbing of one leg as she blew at her bangs and tore preoccupied fingers through her hair, pushing the offending strands away from her cheeks with a frustrated huff.
She was quite a sight, cheeks red and eyes blazing, glaring at the unoffending paper. Obviously, she wouldn't know a derivative if it slapped her in the face, and that was fine with him. Her irritation only made her more amusing . . . and attractive.
Study period. I'll give it to her then. The thought was freed and processed as his eyes shifted from his prey to Téa's yellow watch dog across the room whose brown eyes were alight with barely concealed rage and suspicion. Seto gave Joey a slimey kind of smirk, one that was noted for it's grotesque slither as it formed across his face. Stupid boy, he spoke silently to the fuming pup, I'm not out to harm your little friend.
Far from it, Seto wondered if Téa had mentioned their "meeting" to any of her friends. If she hadn't, they were going to get the shock of their lives today . . . in about fifteen minutes.
Again, his eyes sought her out only to find her seat empty, her body having transported itself to the board to work some insanely complex problem their arithmetic instructor had decided to torture them with – not that Seto couldn't work it out with his eyes closed but still . . .
She was furiously focused, her eyes never straying from the numbers, symbols, and letters etched on the board as the chalk in her hand squeaked and groaned, her fingers exerting anger-induced pressure on the abbreviated stick of brittle stone. It took her long minutes to figure out the stupid problem had no solution, and he could tell, as she stomped back to her desk in a fit not unlike one of Mokuba's, that she was probably holding back a few choice words for the sadist (their teacher) currently grinning evilly at her back.
Seconds later, study period was announced, and Seto had to school his features to guard against the mad grin twitching just beneath his skin. Smoothly, carefully, he dipped one hand into his open bag to produce a prettily wrapped candy box topped with a professionally tied bow. Rising gracefully to his feet (and consequently drawing every eye in the room), he took the very few, very short steps to Téa Gardner's desk. He stood there, just behind and to the right of her seated form and waited patiently for her to notice him.
Head bent over some extra credit work he recognized from English class, she was utterly enthralled in the assignment until the scrape of metal against linoleum alerted her that her male friends - Fido, Taylor, and Motou lagging behind - were coming toward them. He aimed a smirk at them, amused at their alternately hard, angry, and concerned faces.
Suddenly, she twisted in her seat to see him, her mouth forming a small, silent 'o' of surprise before giving him a quizzical look. Again fighting that silly grin, he lowered himself to one knee, passing one arm across her shoulders and touching his cheek to hers as his other, unoccupied, hand slid the brightly packaged candy in front of her. When he felt rather than saw her eyes widen in recognition, he withdrew to whisper a solemn message in her ear, "Tag."
Let the game begin.
To be continued . . .
Ok, here's the deal. I've been having mad ideas for YGO fics (majority of which are Seto/Téa biased) and I had THIS little smidgeon of an idea while listening to my much loved Saliva CD. The challenge – should you choose to accept it – is to write a songfic using Saliva's "Famous Monster". It must be Seto-centric. It must be angsty. It can be romance. I can NOT be Yaoi or shounen-ai, because all entries will be housed on my site and my site is non-yaoi/yuri, non-shounen/shoujo-ai. If it contains yaoi or shounen-ai elements it will not be posted on my site. It can be a lemon or lime but honestly, I'll be impressed if you manage to do that and make sense while doing it considering the lyrics don't lend themselves well to romance in the first place -_-;. It CAN be a suicide fic but I'd also be impressed if you somehow managed to make it end on a more positive note. I think that's all the rules. Please, send all entries to kysra@hotmail.com. Thank you and I look forward to reading!
Here are the lyrics:
Dear heavenly father,
please forgive us
For we know not of what we do.
Look at your life,
Look at the way you slip and slide,
Look at your time,
Look at the ones you've left behind,
Look at your eyes,
The haunted black circles of your plight,
But you can get by,
Oh and killing, you might take one more night,
Cause you're a famous monster,
You'll do whatever they offer,
You tie their noose around your neck,
And they throw you over,
Cause you're a famous monster,
Look at your mind,
Look at the strength you never felt,
You lean on your pride,
The only friend that would never let you down,
Look at the signs,
Look at the way they stop and stare,
They're watching you die,
And when you're gone, its like you weren't even there
Cause you're a famous monster,
You'll do whatever they offer,
You tie their noose around your neck,
And they throw you over,
Cause you're a famous monster,
You'll do whatever they offer,
You tie their noose around your neck,
And they throw you over,
Cause you're a famous monster,
Famous Monster (until fade-out)