If the first chapter has a theme, it's probably selfishness. This chapter's theme is peer pressure. The more overt theme is music, but in terms of psychology and emotions, the first one fits better. As in the first chapter, "My Way to Comfort You," this consists of one scene, although it covers a couple of settings. But, I won't talk too long. I'll let the scene speak for itself.


Seto didn't appreciate Mokuba's taste in music.

It wasn't that he didn't approve of it; it was the general consensus of everyone who lived on the Kaiba Estate that if Seto-sama didn't approve of something, it wasn't permitted onto the grounds. The only exceptions—and they were a very recent addition—were Yugi Mutou and his friends, and they were only permitted only on the rarest of occasions.

Seto didn't begrudge Mokuba his own tastes in terms of entertainment; but just the same he didn't pay much attention or attribute much importance to anything his little brother expressed to like. He turned his nose at ice cream, rolled his eyes whenever Mokuba's favorite television shows came on—though the young Kaiba was still rather convinced that his brother would really enjoy Fullmetal Alchemist if he just gave it a chance—and had never been much impressed with Mokuba's reading habits.

What Mokuba didn't realize was that Seto Kaiba was in fact quite studious when it came to his brother's interests, and had given every TV program Mokuba had ever watched its fair shot; if for no better reason than to have an informed hatred, and to know what it was Mokuba was doing with his time. Every book Mokuba picked up, from Ender's Game to The Princess Bride, he'd read thoroughly. He'd watched the exploits of the brothers Elric in their entirety, and had only been interested insofar as determining what it was that Mokuba liked about it. Aside from that, he wasn't all that impressed.

However, this level of dedication to informed parenting didn't extend to music. Aside from a handful of soft ballads played to lull Mokuba to sleep, Seto hadn't listened to a single song in Mokuba's collection since the boy had turned six. On those rare occasions that Seto listened to music in the car, he insisted on his music; sweeping orchestral pieces and meticulously crafted violin solos and piano concertos. For his part, Mokuba tended to fall asleep when listening to this stuff, and only perked up when he recognized a piece that he'd heard Seto play on the ancient grand piano set into one corner of the front parlor of their home.

One day, after school, Seto came to pick his brother up. Instead of Travis Copeland's SUV, Mokuba was greeted by the sleek, stylish elegance of Seto's prized sports car. The other children, with whom he'd been speaking as he waited, were suitably awestruck by the masterful workmanship, asked if it was new, asked what it was, asked how much it had cost. But then they heard the music Seto had playing on the stereo.

"What's that?" asked one boy.

"Klemens Schnorr's variation on Bach's 'Toccata and Fugue,'" recited Mokuba, suddenly embarrassed where he'd never been before. He thought it had something to do with the way the small group was staring openly at him. Only Connor Brinkley seemed unaffected. Actually, he looked rather impressed. A tiny smile was playing on the blond boy's lips.

"Jeez, I'm sorry," said one of the girls, the first boy's twin sister.

"Laaaaame."

"Man, I thought your brother was cool. He listens to that junk?"

The commentary ceased immediately, partly due to the murderous spark that ignited in the young Kaiba's eyes—it vanished almost instantly, but it had been there; even Connor took a step back—and partly due to the fact that Seto had stepped out of the vehicle and was now standing beside it, hands in his pockets, looking like some species of emperor.

Mokuba waved goodbye, turned away, and walked toward his guardian. He gave Seto a quick hug, which was reciprocated by an affectionate ruffle of his messy black hair, and they both climbed inside the car. Before he could stop himself, Mokuba blurted out, "How come we can't ever listen to my music?"

Seto looked surprised. "What brought this on?" he asked after a moment of silence. He'd turned off the song, leaving them in silence. Mokuba might have said something like, "I didn't mean you had to turn it off," but he'd known his brother long enough and well enough to know it was pointless. Seto did nothing that he didn't mean to do.

"I...I don't...I don't know," Mokuba muttered. "Whatever. Never mind. It's nothing."

And that seemed to be the end of it. Mokuba spent the rest of the ride going through the compact discs in his brother's car, mumbling the titles to himself: Mozart: The Violin Sonatas; J.S. Bach: Goldberg Variations; Masters of Classical Music; and so on. He wondered why Seto—so engrossed in technology—hadn't traded in the CD player in his Veyron for a sound system with a USB port.

Days passed, and the almost-argument faded into memory. By the next time Seto found the time to pick his brother up from school again, Mokuba had forgotten it had ever happened. "Well, no radio's better than the crap he was listening to last time," muttered one of Mokuba's friends—acquaintances, really, aside from Connor—as Seto pulled up next to them.

Mokuba didn't bother to respond, barely recalling what that even meant.

He heard Connor say, "You might want to shut up about Mister Kaiba's music," in a soft voice, and smiled.

"Why? Think I'm scared of Seto Kaiba?"

"No. He doesn't care. But you should be a..."

And so the conversation went. Mokuba ignored it in favor of tossing his bag into the backseat and clicking on his seatbelt. Seto picked up a case, opened it, and slipped the disc into the player without a word as they drove off.

Mokuba was expecting the usual crash of cymbals and warbling strings; the authoritative report of an organ or the mysterious skittering of piano. When his ears were instead met by an instantly familiar, slow and melodic opening electric riff, and an even more familiar singing voice declared: "We've walked together down this winding road…in search of something true…together we grew…" the black-haired boy gave a double-take, and stared openly at his silent sibling's face.

Seto didn't say a word the whole way home.

But Mokuba would have sworn that, as the song picked up tempo, he spied his brother's left thumb tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel, and a suspiciously-close-to-pleasant expression on his face.


I stand by my reasoning that Mokuba enjoys "Fullmetal Alchemist" for one very simple reason: brotherhood. It's perhaps the hallmark theme of the entire story, and tell me Mokuba wouldn't appreciate that. Far more than Seto does, apparently, but then...Seto's a bit of a misanthrope. So we'll forgive him for now. As to the books he's read, "Ender's Game" is less about family and brotherhood, and more about the fact that the titular character is almost a dead ringer for Seto as a boy, and Mokuba's smart enough to catch on, I think. So I'm sure he'd like that. "Princess Bride" has no ulterior motive. I just think it's rather entertaining. The movie, at the least, is hilarious.

The albums in Seto's car are real, but I can't claim to own any of them. I do, however, claim the version of Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" referenced near the beginning. I found it in, "The 99 Darkest Pieces of Classical Music," a compilation MP3 album from Amazon(dot)com. Yes, I know, it's dramatic and probably over-played. But it's also meticulously crafted, something I think Seto would understand and appreciate. So roll with me on it, huh? Please?

That said, I hope you enjoyed this scene. I'll see you Saturday.