I have always had the feeling that Mokuba would outgrow me, one of these days. There was nothing about him growing up, nothing unusual, that lead me to believe he would become like me. In fact, quite the opposite, he was very charismatic. After a brief period of shyness in his earlier teenage years Mokuba became something along the lines of a socialite. As I became more and more of a recluse, Mokuba stepped further into the spotlight, in some ways taking the burden off of me. There were days when I would send him to press conferences to speak on my behalf because I didn't want to be seen. He knew when to crack a joke, when to put on his solemn face if the company wasn't doing well. He didn't mind being photographed or interviewed. He went out and he partied with celebrities. I remember he dated a young, up and coming actress once. I had seen them together on tabloids. But for all of this he never entertained, never held parties at our house, never invited women over. I was the reason for this.

It was something of an unspoken rule in our house that privacy was above all else. Mokuba was kind enough to allow me that dignity. He didn't make awkward introductions between his friends and I. Although, maybe this was less for my sake and more so he didn't have to answer to them later, when they would inevitably ask, What is wrong with your brother? Mokuba, what is wrong with your fabulously wealthy CEO brother? Mokuba, is this the man that raised you? How did you become so normal? Of course, the flipside of this was that he was rarely home. Without Mokuba in the house I had all the more reason to work. I no longer visited his room before bed, like when he was very young. I no longer watched tv or even indulged in a game with him in the evenings like we had done in the first few years after I took over Kaiba Corp. Even sitting together at the breakfast table, drinking orange juice and reading the paper in silence every morning had become a remnant of the past. I couldn't go out and have dinner with him because there was always someone, someone who knew him and wanted to come say hi, or someone who had recognized him, or someone who just couldn't stop looking at us, at him. It made me itch all over. I think it made Mokuba itch too. He could sense my apprehension and it drove him crazy, made him sit more rigidly, made him grind his teeth.

So we didn't go out to dinner, we stayed in for dinner. And then I stayed in for dinner.

There was a period of my life, lasting just a few years, in which I was a media spectacle. I was the teenage CEO of the largest gaming company in the world. I was also a champion duelist. I was an oddity. I think I even had fans as well, girls, mostly. Because I was a winner. I was very young. I was very powerful. The attention then was bearable though, because it wasn't about me, it was about the archetype of me. It was about the Kaiba name, the Kaiba family scandal. It was about the duel monsters prestige. It was about my ego and it was about my money. It was about two-dimensional things that I could understand. I could fulfill my role and it was ok.

High school ended for me and the company was still rapidly expanding. I wasn't in the best place since I had lost my gaming titles to Yugi, but I was in an okay place. Mokuba was still pretty young and he was a calming force in my life. Without the obligation of school in my life, and with me eventually giving up on duel monsters, I was able to focus all of my energy into the company. It was my greatest source of pride. If I could run a successful company, even if I lost to Yugi, even if I was socially dysfunctional, even if Mokuba didn't want to hang out with me anymore, I was still a winner, or, at the very least, not a loser.

As I watched Mokuba grow up it became very apparent that he was smart. I don't think he approached business with the same zeal as I had, but he had a good, logical mind and was quick to solve problems. I could show him numbers and he would put them together. He picked up quickly on all the nuances of Kaiba Corp. The nitty-gritty details that I drove my employees mad with came easily to him. Aside from this, he was creative too. His ideas were unheard of, but he presented them with a confidence that showed he had a mind to back it up. I was always impressed with him.

Another important date that I had marked in my calendar: the day I invited Mokuba to be a full-time partner in the company. It wouldn't have been a surprise, no. I think it was assumed that Mokuba would always have access to a position at the company. But I was excited over it nonetheless. I had been running Kaiba Corp by myself for years at that point. I liked the power, I liked being the head guy, but running it side by side with my little brother was a far better arrangement. I would sometimes, in my off moments, allow myself to imagine. Image the construction plans for the huge double office that I was going to build for us. Imagine going to the big conferences together, talking about the future of gaming technology, interjecting each other's speeches. Imagine working late nights, picking apart spreadsheets with Mokuba standing behind me looking for any oversights (not that I would leave oversights). Imagine his chair next to mine during business meetings. I had grown so attached to the whole fantasy that I found any sort of alternative to be implausible.

After I made the offer, Mokuba went white. He gave me a smile, no, a half smile. A smile like he was too tired to go all the way through with it.

"Seto," he stopped then started again, "Big brother," calling me like when he was little.

I waited. We had been at the breakfast table, where we sat every morning. The only appropriate place for an occasion like that.

"Look I'll just come out with it. I don't want to run Kaiba Corp."

Mokuba had always been very deliberate in his way of doing things. He was never wishy-washy, never conflicted. His words were always spoken with clarity and confidence. I knew better than to question his decisions. I don't think I moved a muscle on my face, not a noticeable one anyway. My mind was known for working fast, but nonetheless I had to stop and repeat his words to myself, giving them time to be understood.

"Well is there another position you would like? Perhaps I could make you head of the design and development branch, I know how that is your favorite and-"

Mokuba cut me off then, which he rarely did. "No, Seto, I'm saying I don't want to work for Kaiba Corp. I want to make my own life."

That was the end of the conversation.

What Mokuba had actually meant by "making his own life" was to become a music talent agent. I can admit (grudgingly) that it made sense for him. Not as much sense as working for Kaiba Corp. would have, but still it was a fair enough path. It took advantage of his business sense as well as his intuition and knack for knowing what people wanted. Mokuba had always loved music as well, something I couldn't relate to. He was in cahoots with most of the more famous dj's and even some well-known artists. He had inside knowledge of the industry and, of course, he was a Kaiba. So it was no surprise that he succeeded in "making his own life".

The first really big name that he was tied to was a young woman, a pop singer who ended up going platinum on her first album. Her stage name was something weird, along the lines of B3kkah! But I remember that her real name was Becca and she was, without makeup, a plain little girl from the farm. Mokuba used to always talk about her and all of her potential. All her talent. How she was bringing something so "different" to music. I tried to understand but I couldn't. She was a pop singer. It was all the same.

He doesn't talk about his work as much anymore. On occasion the TV will be on and he will point with his finger saying "worked with her", "signed him", or "discovered them". I met one of them once at a party, not the usual coorportate affair I attended but a big benefit that Mokuba had insisted I attend with him. I recall he was in a band that Mokuba had recently signed. He was dressed like a fool, with ripped jeans, messy hair, leather jacket- the whole cliché. He shook my hand.

"You're brother is really a great guy, you know? He really fought for us, me and my band, it's all thanks to him really".

And I smiled knowingly, and Mokuba protested, modest as he was.

I on the other hand, was not so modest. I was, as Wheeler (come to think of it) once so eloquently put it, an "egomaniacal, narcissistic, self-absorbed bastard". I don't think that I pointed out at the time that he should have chosen only one adjective, since they all meant the same thing. But I guess the insult had some truth. I did not deny my talent. I was good at what I did. No- I was the best at what I did. And I had fought my way, tooth and claw, to prove it.

After Mokuba rejected my offer, (it's been four or so years by now) our relationship stretched a little thinner. We stopped looking at spreadsheets together. He moved out for about a year. His job allowed him a much different lifestyle than mine. Sometimes I would call him up, tell him about a new product that the company was launching, or a mistake the accounting office made, hoping he would say something, give an opinion, offer and idea, something that would let me pretend we were still working together as a happy, Kaiba family. But usually his response was "oh that's interesting".

Mokuba came back to live with me after I was hospitalized. He said he needed to watch out for me now. I don't remember much of it, but I remember the doctor listing "stress" as a cause. I was prescribed some medication, to keep my blood pressure down and advised to "take time for myself". Stupidity. What the doctor didn't understand was that my work was my time for myself. It always welcomed me back, needing me. In another context, I would have told Mokuba that moving back was stupid, that he wasn't going to help, that I could take care of myself. But I didn't point out fallacies, I didn't fight him.

He barely lives here now though. I see him during the day, but our conversations happen with the realization that he is going to run out the second it ends. He had become independently successful while I had become simply dependant. "Time for myself" consisted of standing in the shower and scrubbing my fingernails.

He hates being home. I can see it in the way he looks around the house and is disappointed to only find me. I can tell by the way that his traveling suitcase never gets unpacked, in case he wants to leave again. I know it when he says he is leaving, and I look at him, but instead of coming back inside to sit with me a little longer, he can only make a feeble attempt to motion me out of the door with him. I never follow.

I have built my life around him. I am so afraid everything will tumble down as soon as he tries to undo my creation.