One loud and stormy night, Kisara is awakened by a hushed voice. Peeking one eye open, she catches a glimpse of Mokuba kneeling by Seto's side of the bed, resting his chin against the mattress. Rain and damp, bare tree branches rattle the windows, and the world is illuminated with periodic flashes of cold, bright lightning.
"Big brother….wake up. Wake up, please?"
"Hmmmm…?" If Seto is annoyed at being woken up in the middle of the night by his fifteen-year-old brother, he doesn't show it. He props himself up on an elbow and rubs sleep from his eyes, frowning slightly with concern. "Mokuba, are you alright?"
"Can't sleep."
"Do you want….?"
"Yes, please, Seto."
"All right, then." Kisara hears a soft grunt, and then the weight in the bed shifts. She sleepily extends one arm out for Seto, but finds only air and then crumpled blankets where his body was just moments before. Disoriented, she opens her eyes just in time to see Seto, donning his dark blue robe, disappearing from the bedroom.
She can hear Mokuba sigh loudly over the frantic sound of the rain, and she squints her sleepy eyes to bring the kid into focus. His head is rested on the mattress, but the rest of him is still kneeling on the ground. Lightning flashes outside, and she can see the sparkle of the light against his open eyes; they glow violet for a split second in the darkness.
"You can get in," she offers, patting the blankets.
Mokuba climbs into the bed and settles himself in. He sits with his head rested against the headboard and a pillow sandwiched between his tucked-in knees and his chest. "Thanks."
"No problem," Kisara says, frowning as she looks closer at Mokuba's face. "Is everything alright?"
"Can't sleep."
"That all?"
His loud sigh tells her that there is more, and struggling to concentrate through the thick fog of drowsiness, she blinks hard, to bring and pushes the covers off of her shoulders. She shivers as the cold night air kisses her skin, but feels more alert.
"I think we're cursed," Mokuba says. He pauses for a second, jutting out his lower lip, and adds, "Don't say it's like, little kid stuff. Think about it, think about the Kaibas. Death and car accidents and all kinds of bad things. I think the Kaibas have a curse."
"No, no no no," Kisara coos, drawing herself into an upright position, sitting with her shoulder touching Mokuba's. "Just bad things, too many bad things. Not a curse."
"You don't know," Mokuba responds, and there is a little bit of his brother's signature flintiness in his voice. "It feels like a curse. I can hear it in the walls sometimes, you know? Ghosts. Not just one-lots. We're cursed." He whimpers softly, and his shoulders shake.
It makes her heart hurt, to see his lower lip jut out like that, and to watch tears start to bead up at the corners of his eyes. She feels funny putting her arm around his shoulders and rocking him back and forth, squeezing his shoulder the way she has seen him do for Seto when his own bad thoughts wake him. She isn't his mom, and he's too old for such things, anyways. But Mokuba doesn't seem to mind, and he sniffles as he leans his head against Kisara's neck, and they sway back and forth with the rain pouring and thunder booming and lightning flickering outside.
X
Seto returns to the bedroom holding a saucer with a teacup and a spoon on it. He hands the saucer to Mokuba, who straightens himself up and balances the saucer on his knees while he stirs the liquid in the cup. Cinnamon and honey and nutmeg steam waft in Kisara's direction, making her mouth water. Suddenly feeling a little bit like she is intruding on something personal, she slinks back under the covers, pressing her eyes closed and inhaling the comforting smell of spiced tea.
"Thanks, bro."
A soft huff rings through the air, and the mattress squeaks like Seto is sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you going to be okay, kid?"
The cup clinks against the saucer. "Mmmmm-hmmm."
She opens her eyes a little bit and watches as Seto ruffles his brother's hair, his eyes narrowing affectionately. "Okay to go back to bed tonight?"
"Mmmm-hmm." Mokuba sets the mug and saucer on Seto's nightstand, on top of the alarm clock that can also project holograms.
Seto wraps his arms around his brother's shoulders, squeezing him tightly. "I'm going to be right here all night. You know that, right?"
"Mmmmm-hmm." Mokuba slides out from Seto's embrace and hops delicately off the bed and onto the floor. "Good night, Seto." He cocks his head, glancing at Kisara, and she opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Good night, Kisara."
"'Night, kid," Seto says. "Want me to walk you to your room?"
Mokuba shakes his head. "I'm okay."
"'Night, Mokie," Kisara calls out. "Get some sleep, alright?"
Mokuba swings the bedroom doors open, and they yawn back inwards as he disappears down the hallway, but they are left slightly ajar. A sliver of light from the hallway spills in across the carpet. Seto yawns and pulls himself back into bed.
X
Seto sighs deeply as he rearranges the covers over himself. Kisara blinks slowly, watching dust particles float through the moonlight. The fan blades on the ceiling twirl slowly, making a soft whooshing sound barely audible over the sounds of the wind and rain.
"You up?" Seto's voice is soft but still carries his trademark matter-of-factness.
Kisara flops onto her side, staring at the side of Seto's face that is half-buried in the pillows. "Yeah?"
"Nothing, really. I just know you're awake."
"Mokuba thinks you guys are cursed," Kisara says after a moment. Her voice breaks a little, and the words come out as a soft whisper.
Seto rolls over to face her. Their faces are close enough that his blue eyes begin to merge into one in the center of his face, but Kisara stays where she is, reaching out to rest her hand on the curve of his neck.
"Let him think that," Seto says, "better that than the truth." His eyes look sad and distant all of a sudden, and he says, "I wish I could think we had a curse."
"Why?"
He takes a deep breath and flips over onto his back with his eyes focused straight up on the ceiling. "Better than the alternative, better than free will. Curses can explain all the bad things without making them your fault. And bad things are going to happen anyways, so why not make it a curse?"
Seto's sadness is worse kind of sadness than Mokuba's, Kisara decides. His anger is hard and angry like a storm raging on the other side of a window: it is futile to try and cross that boundary, stay away. Take cover. Or watch-storms don't care. They rage on with or without an audience.
She reaches out to stroke his cheek, but stops inches from his jawline, hesitantly lowering her hand onto the pillow. "You don't deserve the bad things," she says helplessly. "And you don't know that more are on the way."
"Maybe not," he agrees, pushing the covers back and folding his arms across his chest. "But look at the poor kid. Look at his life. His mother died on the damn day he was born. Can you try, please? Try to understand how bad that must feel?" His voice is shaky with raw emotion. "He watched Gozaburo try to break me for years, and he was never allowed in the room, never allowed to help me or support me. He's been taking care of me ever since he was a kid, Kisara, trying to help me find myself while having to navigate everything for himself, too. God knows that I never got a chance to have a normal childhood, and I don't always know how to help him make choices in life." Kisara watches as Seto's wide eyes close, and his eyebrows furrow. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a part of his curse, too." His breathing becomes quicker and more shallow, and Kisara frowns, frustration forming a lump in her throat as she realizes that she doesn't know how to react.
Kisara rolls onto her back as well, the length of her arm brushing against Seto's. The tension in the air slowly begins to dissipate, and the rapid rises and falls of Seto's chest become slower and more relaxed. She allows eyes to close again.
It's hard for Kisara when the Kaiba ghosts come around to bring nightmares to the Kaiba brothers. She can't feel their presence as clearly as they can, but she is beginning to learn how to recognize their presence. As helpless as she feels not being able to help Seto and Mokuba fight off the ghosts, she is starting to learn that the ghosts disappear after a little while, and there are no solutions she can offer, no kind words that will make them go away. The best thing she can be is kind.
"Mokuba is lucky to have you," she breaths. "You know that. He knows that."
A slight smile spreads across Seto's face. "He's lucky to have you too," he says. "Things are different with you here. More normal." Seto's hand finds Kisara's, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "It makes me feel like normal life is possible."
"Is it?"
"Mmmm. Maybe." Kisara rolls over, watching as Seto's eyes close. "Get some rest, Kisara," he says. "We all need to be up in a couple of hours, anyways."
She stays up for a few minutes, watching Seto drift into slumber. She glances at the teacup that Mokuba left on top of Seto's alarm clock, and smiles to herself. There may or may not be ghosts in the walls. The brothers have nightmares and sleepless nights, but they have also developed their own ways to survive. Life goes on.