Sorry about the delay on today's chapter. I ran out of buffer, so I had to write this one today. That is to say, this is as organic as it gets. This is an idea that has mulled about in my head for a while now and I finally worked it into a scene. I decided to take a common theory and turn it on its head.

This was the result.


When his phone rang, Mokuba didn't even give him the chance to look at it.

He'd been lying on the daybed in one corner of his private bedchamber, staring up at the ceiling and trying to forget everything else he might be doing. Even when he'd tried to get up and find a book to read, Mokuba had vetoed the motion, saying that the whole idea was to rest when you were sick, and he knew good and well that Niisama didn't read like normal people. When Seto read, he analyzed and scrutinized and took notes and…

"You're sick, Niisama," Mokuba had said that morning. "And when I'm sick, you always tell me I need to lay down and rest. So that's what you're going to do."

So, Mokuba answered his phone. "Kaiba," he said, in a business-like tone that Seto heard only rarely—although he'd been hearing a lot of it today, now that he thought about it. Mokuba waited a moment. "No, I'm sorry, he's unavailable right now. I can take down your name, number, and a message for him. I'm sorry, sir, but I don't believe that's any of your concern. No. No, I won't. Goodbye, sir." And he hung up.

"Short message," Seto murmured thoughtfully.

"He didn't want to talk to me," Mokuba said. "Said I should find you."

"It might have been important," Seto said, "considering he knew my private number."

"If it was important enough to need immediate attention," Mokuba said, with the air of someone repeating something he'd heard any number of times, "he would have known what to do and done it already."

Seto couldn't help but smirk. "…My own doctrine recited back at me. Touché."

The phone rang again.

Mokuba picked it up and looked at it. He groaned. "Kaiba," he said, in the same light, polite tone he'd used the first time. "No, sir. He's unavailable. If you understand that, then kindly stop calling this number. Goodbye."

"The next time he calls, I'll speak to him," Seto said.

"No, you won't," Mokuba said sharply. "That'd make me look like a joke. I'll handle it."

Seto blinked. Sat up and looked back at his brother. "…You still look eleven. Since when do you take that tone with me?" Mokuba could tell that his brother wasn't serious, and so he only gave a toothy grin and tilted his head.

The phone rang again.

"…Carry on, then, Kaiba-fukushachou," Seto said, waving his hand and going back to staring at the ceiling.

"Kaiba," Mokuba said, and he was all business now, stern and unwavering. He waited a moment, then snapped, "What's your name? Ulmer? No, I'm afraid you're going to be listening to me, Mister Ulmer. I have tried to be polite, but you don't want to listen. I don't care. Who am—do you think the president hands his private phone to random kids on the street? I'm Mokuba Kaiba, your vice-president. Yeah, yeah, you do that." He was silent for almost a full minute before saying, "…Hi, Hank. Yeah. Mokuba. Niisama's sick today. Mm-hm. I don't know how he got this number, but could you let Roland know we're going to want to get a new one? I don't want my brother having to talk to this moron. Get rid of him, too, huh? Thanks. Okay. Yeah, that sounds good. No, I don't think you'll have to worry. I won't be able to keep him in bed longer than today. Okay. Take care, Hank. Bye."

"Apparently we need to tighten up our hiring standards," Seto muttered.

"Yeah, little bit," Mokuba said. Seto didn't hear him put his phone back onto the end-table, and he figured the black-haired boy had put it into his own pocket. He couldn't hide a grin. "Want some tea, Niisama? Connolly said we got some new stuff in."

"…Yes."

"'Kay."

Mokuba left the room.

Seto realized as he continued to watch his ceiling that, for all his complaints of idleness, he felt better. He settled onto the daybed, found that his grin wasn't sliding off his face like it usually did whenever Mokuba left the room, and when his brother came back in with a tray holding a kettle of steaming tea, a cup, and a tiny tray of little butter cookies—Seto wasn't one for sweets, but the gesture was nice—he thought that he could get used to this.


It's a common idea for Mokuba to be sick, and for Seto to take care of him; it's probably not that much less common for Seto to be sick, and for Mokuba to take care of him. But it's the how in this equation that I liked. He's not having to take Seto's temperature and wipe his forehead with a cool towel or…feed him soup.

Rather, he has to make sure that nobody bothers Seto, and that Seto isn't tempted to bother anybody else. Apparently he's not allowed to read, either. And yes, I know, KaibaCorp seems to be full of idiots, the way I write them. It's balanced out by people like Roland and…whoever Hank is. Mokuba seems to like him, and that's what matters, right?

See you Tuesday, folks.