II
"You will be taken home shortly, Sir," Isono reassured the clone, and prodded by soft pangs of how vulnerable this Seto looked, already self-aware with so little history or authority to shield him, he added, in a kind tone, "and I will assist you in anything you need."
There was a small pause in search of the appropriate words. "…Thank you."
"Isono," came Kaiba's voice, barely raised but immediately commanding his employee's full and undivided attention. Seto lifted his head, curious yet apprehensive of what would come next. "I have a few more arrangements to discuss with Hanji. Have him dress and then wait for us."
Kaiba's words were promptly followed by the entrance of another employee carrying a neatly folded pile of clothes previously prepared for Seto. The white briefs sitting on top made Kaiba divert his gaze to some invisible blemish on the opposite wall, but Seto could not take his eyes off what he believed would be his first material possessions, boring though they were: dark trousers, a plain white dress shirt, a white undershirt, black socks and underwear. A pair of smart black shoes were soon produced to complete the ensemble and Kaiba took this as his cue to depart with Hanji. Seto was still staring at the clothes left on his bed when the door closed behind them, one hand subconsciously tugging at a loose fold of his operating gown. Isono let out a modest cough.
"Shall I turn away while you dress, Sir?" he asked, stepping away from the bed with his hands tucked behind his back. The clone shrugged his shoulders. While his failed attempt at walking to greet and impress the Other had made him flush with shame, the idea of being seen naked had no negative connotation in his mind – the medical team had touched, held, dressed and examined him as though the lack of clothes made no difference at all and having been heavily sedated in the first two hours of his life, Seto had little clarity of mind to form a firm opinion on the subject. He slowly lifted his arms to untie what he felt must be a knot in the back right at the base of his neck, but his arms were still not used to such extensive exercise and would not bend far enough. He twisted his wrists, long fingers prodding for reach but to no avail. Isono could not help his smile but quickly smoothed it out not to embarrass his charge.
"May I help, Sir?" he asked, voice low and gentle. Seto nodded once, twice, arms dropping smoothly to his sides and his eyes lowered again. Isono allowed his smile to slip back as he approached him again and gingerly cupped Seto's shoulders to turn him around. The clone complied without a sound and straightened his back from its defeated haunch, and so Isono's fingers plucked up and disentangled the first ribbon.
It was not very unpleasant, being undressed. As more ribbons were untied, the gown began to droop outwards and slip from those thin shoulders, and the lower it sank, the more Seto began to take interest in his own form, leaning backwards by degrees to look down at himself. He inspected his chest and quirked a brow at his small, flat nipples, stared at the taut wrinkles of his stomach and into the diamond well of his navel. The last ribbon brought Isono uncomfortably close to his backside, but Seto dreaded it not – indeed he wished it. The very moment that final ribbon was undone, he pulled the gown away from himself completely, letting it fall to the floor in a crinkled heap so that he could admire the sharp ridges of his pelvis, the paleness of his thighs and the contours of his genitalia. He thought the latter rather ugly compared to the smooth evenness of his legs, but hoped it wasn't abnormal. His lingering stare at it, the way he slowly shifted his thighs apart in curiosity made Isono color.
"Do you need assistance with your new clothes, Sir?" he asked, his voice thick. Seto blinked at him as if woken from a dream and finally turned his attention to the pile by his side, mulling over the question as he picked up the briefs. They looked simple enough. He gave them a few light tugs and marveled at the elastic band.
"I will try it myself first. …Thank you," he said, lowering his first pair of underwear all the way down to his dangling feet and guiding them into the holes. He pulled them up, tugging them carefully over his knees to the top of his thighs, and then realized he was forced to stand, but as much as he dreaded it, his knees endured long enough for him to pull them up in one fluid motion. He quickly sank back onto the bed and made a few careful attempts at tucking himself comfortably. He failed.
"It isn't very comfortable," he said at last, staring at his front in disappointment. Isono felt he had been staring at the ceiling for ages.
"Underwear tends to be more functional than comfortable, Sir," came the diplomatic reply.
"I think it should be both," mused Seto but pursued the subject no more. He slipped on his socks instead and thought they made his legs looked severed from the ankle and his feet like large black clumps. He wiggled his toes absent-mindedly. Isono let out an amused hum.
"Are your socks comfortable, Sir?" he teased, a little abashed at his own nerve, but Seto merely replied that they were tolerable and then, in that same low voice that spoke of home, requested help with the rest. Isono obliged him and fit his arms into the sleeveless undershirt, coaxed his mile-long legs into the trousers and tucked the dress shirt neatly around his frame, carefully doing up the buttons that Seto's fingers were not yet nimble enough to manage. Finally, he asked Seto to sit for just a little while longer and kneeled to his feet, comically large in contrast to that childlike look of awe on the young man's face as Isono slipped on and tied his shoes.
"You are ready, Sir," he said at last, rising up and retreating to the other end of the small holding cell to admire his handiwork. Seto gave himself a thorough glance, gripped the edge of the bed and carefully shifted onto his feet. One hand quickly slithered to the wall as the other let go of the bed, and Isono watched Seto take his first shuffling steps, each a small victory for someone who had not been conscious for more than three hours… and as he did, Isono was slowly filled with a sense of warm, almost fatherly pride in his charge. Seto looked so well, awkward yet holding every promise of commanding respect and a graceful stride in time, and when Seto reached the other side on his own and cracked a smile for the first time in his life, Isono seized the moment and took his hand.
"Congratulations, Sir," he said and shook it, and though Seto could not immediately place the concept of the handshake, his smile widened into a helpless grin that Isono was certain he had never seen on Kaiba Seto's face in his life.
"As you know, the ocular implant had been implanted seven days ago while he was still in suspended animation," said Hanji as they escorted Kaiba to one of the laboratory tables upon which rested a laptop and what appeared to be a small, portable hard drive. "We have monitored the healing process and the operation was successful. He has been conditioned never to touch his eyes since such pressure and friction may damage or dislodge the nano camera. This device," continued Hanji, gesturing to the small machine that they now plugged into the laptop with a USB cable, "tracks and receives transmissions from the nano camera and is capable of recording the audiovisual data on microchips that regular computers cannot decipher. This is to ensure maximum security of the data and the specimen. We would like to request at least some data to study his behavior—"
While Hanji spoke, the decoding software was initiated and the device lit up, and Kaiba, who was expecting a quick overview of the user interface, was met in the next moment with live footage of Seto's hand removing what appeared to be a plastic gown and exposing an exact replica of Kaiba's own genitals on screen. Kaiba froze. The camera lingered. Hanji tried and failed to suppress laughter.
"Perhaps not this particular footage," snickered Hanji, unable to feign nonchalance at the mixture of embarrassment, horror and fascination that glued Kaiba's eyes to the screen until his employee finally took mercy on him and turned off the device.
