This past week was my spring break.
Suffice it to say that I did not get much writing done. The semester has been murder on my ability to focus so far, and I've spent the last seven days recharging so that I can get through the last stretch of it in one piece.
I spent a lot of that time watching YouTube, playing various games, and trying to remember what it feels like to be honestly awake. These things most assuredly bled into this installment.
Seto didn't smile at conventions.
Not to say that he smiled at any public event, because he didn't. But it was most notable at these events, when the whole idea was to be upbeat and approachable. At least, that's what people kept telling him. Every announcement he gave, every panel he attended, every autograph he signed, he did so with his usual frigid severity, and it had gotten to the point that people not only expected it of him; it had become such a staple that they wanted it.
There was something novel, apparently, about a gamer who treated his hobby so damn seriously.
Seto himself, who was no stranger to his own psychology, said, "Most people mock 'serious players' incessantly. They chuckle to themselves and pat themselves on the back, congratulating themselves because they don't get so worked up over something as trivial as videogames. 'Basement-dweller,' they say, 'calm down and go outside once in a while. It's called the world, and it's more important than your stupid games. Some people have real lives.'" He'd smirked at this point, as was his trademark, and added, "Try telling that to me. I dare you."
So far, nobody had.
To his face, anyway. And that was all Seto ever really paid attention to.
There was a reason for this mood, though. Convention season usually meant that this normally insomniac caffeine addict got no honest sleep at all for a week at a time, and his ability to fake interest in other people—already atrophied—suffered proportionally.
He had no appointments today. Mokuba had insisted on scheduling a "nothing day," as he called it, this time. Seto hadn't been able to muster the right argument to refuse, and so he stood leaning against the wall, watching the crowd of gamers go about their business—the way they seemed to move amongst each other in clumps and clusters reminded his fevered mind of a lava lamp—and pretending he didn't exist.
Vincent Zika approached him with an air of casualness that was unusual for him. Seto watched the man silently, not even slightly interested in whatever he had to say. That was, until he said it: "You might want to come see this. Your brother's managed to find himself an entourage." When Seto did not respond vocally, Vincent added: "Some woman in her early thirties just hugged him."
"…And you did nothing," Seto said, icily.
"He hugged her back."
Sighing, Seto began to walk. "Sometimes I wonder why I pay you people."
"I'm not an idiot, sir," Vincent said, falling into step with him. "If I thought she was a threat, she'd be unconscious or dead." Seto glanced at him, perhaps trying to gauge whether Vincent was joking or not; the bald man's face was stone-set.
Seto half-smirked.
"…Good."
Indeed, Mokuba was surrounded by a great number of people when Seto and Vincent finally found him. If Mokuba were a normal boy, Seto would have been surprised that only a handful of them were other children; however, the young Kaiba had made a habit of interacting with people older than himself. It was the only way he was actually interested in dealing with them.
Mokuba had learned, as his brother before him had learned, that most children were idiots.
The young Kaiba was sitting on a bench, flanked by the woman Vincent had already mentioned, and a teenage boy with several rings through his left eyebrow. Both were talking animatedly to the crowd around them, but whenever Mokuba spoke, they all backed down as though in deference, and it was clear at a glance who was in charge here.
"…Vic's all set to finish next week, right?" one was asking.
"Yeah," said another.
"I'm thinking of doing a blind run of that one for my next project," Mokuba put in, which sent a hush throughout the entire group. Everyone turned to look at him now. The black-haired boy blinked. "What?"
"You're telling me you've never played Banjo-Kazooie," said the woman at his left, almost breathlessly. "Seriously."
"It came out when I was three," Mokuba said, somewhat defensively. "We didn't have a Nintendo 64."
"My parents weren't even married in 1984 and I've still played Duck Hunt," said the boy at his right. "No fooling. You've never played it."
"No."
"Oh, that's awesome," said the man named Vic. "You have to do it, Wonder. Now that you've gone and mentioned it, that's gotta be next. How much longer you got on Symphonia? Just a few more episodes, right?"
"Yeah."
It was a small crowd, but a crowd it was, and it took them a while to notice two new faces in their midst. They turned, almost sharing a consciousness, and Mokuba smiled. "Hi, Niisama," he said, waving. "Vince."
"Seems you've found a way to pass the time," Seto remarked dryly.
"Well, ho-lee shit," someone said. "It's the man of the hour his own self. That's your brother, isn't it, Wonder?"
"Yeah," Mokuba said.
"Care to introduce me to the rest of the class?" Seto said.
"Well," Mokuba said, and he looked less at ease than before, "you know how you told me I should start a YouTube channel a while ago? These are some of my subscribers."
The woman looked at Seto, scandalized. She turned to Mokuba. "He doesn't even know?" She turned back to Seto. "You don't watch his videos?" She looked rather maternally offended. They all looked offended.
Seto started to answer, but Vincent cut in: "This is the first I've heard of it." He narrowed his eyes. "Come now, sir. We might be old, but we're not ancient. What's your username?"
Mokuba blushed. "Wonderboy996," he said meekly.
Vincent snickered, looking incredulous. "Wonderboy?" he repeated. Mokuba flinched. As one, the young Kaiba's subscribers frowned, and seemed to form a protective ring around him.
Seto raised a sardonic eyebrow. "So," he said, "this is the secret of your power."
Laughter broke out and shattered the tension. "Finally!" someone exclaimed. "Someone else gets it! Very nice!"
"Mock my brother again and you're fired," Seto shot at Vincent, who went pale as he realized he didn't know if his employer was joking or not. Mokuba beamed at them. "And by the way…Madam Why?"
The woman sitting next to Mokuba looked surprised. "Yes…sir?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I was his first subscriber."
Mokuba looked dumbfounded, but Madam Why broke into a grin.
Seto turned and looked over his shoulder, looking like he'd just remembered something. "Oh. Foxfire."
The teenage boy with the rings in his eyebrow blinked. "Yo?"
"Your cousin's ban isn't permanent. We're working out the details." Seto checked his watch, ignoring the entire group and looking entirely too satisfied with himself. He turned his eyes back to his brother. "By your leave, Mister President."
Mokuba blushed again. "That…nickname wasn't my idea."
Seto chuckled, and swept his gaze over everyone before offering a little salute and turning away. "I leave him in your hands," he said, leaving a slack-jawed Vincent to hurry after him. The group watched them go, all smiling as they contemplated the honor that had just been bestowed upon them—they knew the elder Kaiba's reputation all too well.
Mokuba, however, was frowning thoughtfully.
"What's on your mind, Wonder?" Foxfire asked.
"Trying to remember…the name of my first subscriber," Mokuba said, gazing down at his lap. Then he suddenly grinned. He looked around at them, and said, "…Ssyk."
"Eh?"
Realization was dawning on his face. "I just thought it was some weird way to spell 'sick,'" Mokuba said. "S-S-Y-K. Seto Sasaki-Yagami Kaiba." He looked ready to cry. Then he went white as a sheet.
"What is it?" Madam Why asked.
"My brother…he's been watching…all this time. I…I…oh, God. Oh. My God."
"Calm down," Foxfire said. "He's your brother. You live with him. What's with the stage fright?"
Vincent came walking over, and Mokuba looked up, mortified. "Mister Kaiba said it would probably take you this long to realize it," he said, sounding like he was reading from a script. "He sent me to tell you, 'Yes, I saw episode 43 of Ambition.'"
After a beat of silence, laughter again erupted from the crowd. Mokuba's face went beet-red, and he huddled against Madam Why, who patted his back and ruffled his hair. "You'll live," she said bracingly.
Mokuba tried to speak, but it only came out as a strangled whimper.
Vincent bowed his head, turned on a heel, and left.
Firstly, to anyone who may have usernames that in any way resemble "Wonderboy996," "Madam Why," "Ssyk" or "Foxfire," I apologize and hope that you don't mind. I've used them here primarily to make a point or to add a bit of flavor, and had no intention of stealing anyone's identity.
Perhaps a bit of context is in order for this one: a lot of my time spent on YouTube takes the form of watching "Let's Plays." For those who don't know what those are, imagine watching a movie with Director/Cast commentary. Then replace the director or cast with a fan. Then replace the movie with a videogame. That's effectively what they are. Folks record themselves playing a particular game, talking to their audience as they do so.
Banjo-Kazooie is a 3D platformer released by Rare in 1998 for the Nintendo 64. "Symphonia" is a reference to the Tales of Symphonia roleplaying game released in 2004. "Ambition" is a reference to one of Kaiba-Corp's games, a nebulous title that I've placed into various stories because I suppose I like that word.
Lastly, "Wonderboy," "the secret of your power," and the title of this chapter are references to the comedy band Tenacious D and its song, "Wonderboy."
I think that's all. If anyone has any questions, drop a line and I'll do my best to clear it up.
See you next time, everyone.
