Secrets that Remain

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yuugiou nor am I making any money from this story. Please give appropriate support toward Yuugiou's mangaka Takahashi Kazuki.I do not own the song ".45", please support the song creators the band Shinedown.

WARNINGS: PLEASE NOTE that this story contains direct mention and some description of sexual/mental child abuse between two males. This content is portrayed as a damaging, terrible act of violation toward a child as any type of child abuse is; however, if this subject offends you in ANY way, please do not read.

-Blood.

-------------------------

---SECRETS THAT REMAIN---


“Send away for a priceless gift
One not subtle, one not on the list

Send away for a perfect world
One not simply so absurd”

There were countless available arguments, pros and cons, for why he should not be in his current position. However, there had always been only one convincing reason for Kaiba Seto to do, or for that matter to not do, anything in his life. He sighed loudly, purposely drawing it out into a long, flowing breath as his ice blue eyes slipped closed.

“What am I doing…?” he reprimanded himself quietly, his voice somehow too loud in the silent room.
Seto’s eyelids twitched before rising to reveal mere millimeters of soft blue and stark white. The lights were off in his richly furnished bedroom, the curtains drawn to discourage the sunlight from filtering in to ruin the gloomy atmosphere. He sat on the floor, his back leaning against the corner farthest from the door and his canopy bed. Slender limbs laid haphazardly upon the floor as if he had simply slid down the wall without care. In Seto’s lap his fingers absently stroked the shiny, metallic object held captive by his hands. They trembled just slightly.

His dismal eyes turned to rest upon his bed. Lying across the dark comforter was a black business suit, wrinkleless and absolutely flawless. A short glance would tell anyone that it was quite expensive; obviously the clothing of a very rich man. His long coat hung in his closet presently, his white shirt lumped at his side on the floor in a very un-Seto manner, leaving his upper body bare. The room was chilly, but Seto did not mind. The cold had always helped him to think more clearly.

Seto had chosen today as the start of his single, yearly business retreat. He had decided after Gozaburo’s death that he would take one week’s vacation annually; he really didn’t need any more. Actually, none at all would have suited him just fine if not for that one reason. Mokuba. Tomorrow was his little brother’s 12th birthday. He needed the time off to spend with his dear younger sibling, to celebrate another year they had spent together. Another year of Mokuba remaining safe and unspoiled by the world that had long since drug the older boy into its tainted folds. Seto would gladly give anything to keep that untouched innocence intact in his brother. He would forsake his own soul, his life and his company, just to keep Mokuba’s smile alive in those warm grey eyes.

In the orphanage, there had been a promise between them. Seto would always be at his brother’s side, his protector, his guardian and absolute family, as would Mokuba to Seto. They had locked pinkies in the childish way and hugged, excited at the idea of never having to part.

“Back then…” Seto whispered painfully. Back then, when that man, that abomination, had adopted them he had thought he could give Mokuba everything. He had promised himself that one day he’d be able to change even the world with the influence he would gain once he ruled Kaiba Corp. A perfect world for his brother and himself…what an absurdly naïve dream it had been. His wish, his dream; it had all came crashing down so easily, breaking with fragility greater than the thinnest glass.


“In these times of doing what you're told
Keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart”

The young boy sat rigid in a hard-backed chair before a great wooden desk, books neatly laid open and under nervous scrutiny. Sleep had been precious and little during the last month for Seto. His new father had exaggerated expectations of the child; Kaiba Gozaburo insisted his new son accomplish a college level education within a few short years!

‘Impossible,’ the overburdened child thought miserably. The worst part wasn’t that Seto was supposed to do this, but that he was avidly and desperately trying to do it. After all, how could he not do as he was told when his step father threatened to either turn the responsibility of heir over to Mokuba or simply toss them both back into the orphanage? Seto could not allow that, not after he was so close to having the sort of power he needed to take care of his brother. So, he complied with every demand his tyrant father laid upon him. Even the frequent bouts of anger his father could not suppress, leaving the boy bruised and sore many a nights.
Soon, however, Gozaburo came to demand a much higher price. This payment was obviously non-negotiable seeing as how Seto was given no warning nor alternate choices beforehand on the matter. In one single afternoon, the young brunette’s childhood was forever stripped from him.

Seto did not attend school because of the tutoring he received at home. Mokuba, on the other hand, was allowed this freedom. On the morning of his dear brother’s first school day, Seto awoke extra early to help him get ready, warning him about all the dangers he should avoid. He was nervous to let him go, like any parent should be, but Gozaburo only seemed amused by the guardian act. He told Seto to stop treating the boy as if he were a weak young girl. That was hardly the point, in Seto’s opinion, for Mokuba Was young…and Seto could do nothing immediate for him if something were to happen at school.

Eventually, he had to allow him to leave and he hugged the dark-haired boy tightly, whispering so that Gozaburo could not hear, “Be careful, otouto, I love you.”

It earned him an adorable smile and a quiet, “I love you, too, Ni-sama,” before the boy turned and ran to the waiting limousine outside.

“Don’t simply stand around, Seto, you have work to do,” came the cold voice of Gozaburo behind him. Seto flinched slightly, turning around to nod. He sounded angry. The brunette made his way back to the study, where his tutor already waited impatiently for him.

Hours went by before the lesson was allowed an intermission. The tutor was allowed to leave early, leaving the rest of the day’s lessons to Gozaburo. Seto rested his head in one of his textbooks, yawning. He needed sleep badly. Surely a short nap would hurt no one, so he closed his eyes.

A sharp pain in his shoulder awoke him some time later, eliciting a short, surprised scream from the child. Seto grabbed his shoulder, slightly surprised to find warm blood wet his fingers, before turning to Gozaburo. The man’s face was drawn tightly in anger, his eyes reflecting the same emotion. In his hands was a leather whip, the end wet with blood.

“I did not give you permission to sleep during your lessons,” the man hissed, his eyes staring through Seto acidly, his hands white as they gripped the whip’s length.

“Gomen nasaii,” Seto said quietly, respectfully. Why did he have to have permission to sleep? It was ridiculous and Seto knew that, but he would never say such a thing to Gozaburo. “I didn’t mean…” he started, his body suddenly tensing when his stepfather’s hand landed hard on his shoulder, gripping it in the large palm.

“No excuses this time, Seto,” Gozaburo interrupted, “I’ve been too soft with you up to now, boy,” he scoffed at himself. He pulled Seto from the chair roughly, leading him from the room. “I should have done this sooner,” the man growled under his breath.

“Summimasen! I really am!” Seto cried out as the man dragged him down the hallway. Gozaburo was acting really strange, and the way he’d been staring at Seto chilled the boy to his bones. It was different, somehow, from what Seto usually saw. Apparently, he had royally messed up and caught his stepfather at a dangerous time. He was pulled through large double-doors and slung forward, the momentum snatching his balance as he fell heavily to the carpeted floor. He registered the sound of the doors locking and froze, kneeling on the soft floor, his hands balled into fists. This was bad; what was Gozaburo going to do this time? He knew it would hurt, when Gozaburo was angry, everything hurt.

“Don’t just sit there, get up!” the large man hissed in annoyance.

“H…hai,” Seto replied quickly, starting to stand, but he was too slow for the man’s liking.

Gozaburo grabbed Seto by the back of his shirt, lifting him with frightening ease and huffing impatiently as he walked toward…the bed? He was tossed onto his back, his body sinking slightly in the soft mattress. When he sat up, he received perhaps the fright of his life as Gozaburo suddenly rammed Seto’s shoulders back down onto the bed with both hands, leaning over him and staring down into impossibly large, shocked blue eyes. It occurred so quickly, Seto did not even think to cry out.

“Don’t move,” he whispered the order before standing back up and withdrawing from the room silently. His chest rising and falling nervously, the frightened boy did just that. He didn’t move a centimeter, he simply shivered.
Shortly thereafter, Gozaburo reappeared from out of his walk-in closet. His business suit was gone, replaced by a thick, maroon robe with the kanji for Kaiba stitched upon the breast. Seto watched his stepfather approach the bed, remaining as he was told until his eyes fell to the objects in Gozaburo’s hands. His eyes widened perceptively and he jerked his body into a half sitting position before scooting toward the headboard of the large bed. It was that whip again, the one from earlier. Seto could still see the little bit of bloodstain on the very end. Gozaburo had never used a whip on him before, but even after just one hit from it, Seto knew he never wanted to feel it again. There were two other things in the man’s hands, but those appeared normal. A small bottle and something he couldn’t quite decide what it was. Still, it wasn’t sharp and it didn’t look like any weapon, so he disregarded it.

Gozaburo’s advance quickened at the sudden move backwards, placing the two extra items at the end of the bed. “Seto, I’ll offer you a single warning: don’t disobey me. Do exactly as I tell you and your punishment won’t be so bad,” he said with a sickening smile. “Come here.” When Seto shook his head, glancing behind himself quickly at the edge of the bed, Gozaburo frowned, the anger returning to his eyes. He pounced forward just as the boy’s head snapped back toward him.

Seto shrieked shamelessly when he saw the large form barrel toward him suddenly. He tried to scramble from the bed, but his calf was grabbed in a vice grip that yanked him back. The force was disorienting, and Seto barely understood that he now lay on his back, his stepfather over him holding his shoulders. Even his breathing silenced once his vision focused upwards into those cruel eyes. Seto opened his mouth slightly, the urge to scream overwhelming. The idea was lost when Gozaburo’s fist connected with the boy’s mouth, blood pooling at the corner shortly after.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me, Seto?” the man asked cryptically. “I warned you, didn’t I? Was it not an acceptable threat?” Gozaburo smiled now, his expression sly as his hand reached out to the boy. His fingers traced Seto’s bruised cheek with slow strokes, “How about we discuss your brother then?” The flash of anger and fear in Seto’s eyes alerted the man he was in proper territory. Gripping Seto’s chin, Gozaburo leaned forward, touching his cheek to the boy’s. “No? That’s not a good idea? But, Seto, if you make me angry enough, if you don’t satisfy me with obedience, then I’ll have to satiate myself with him as well,” he seemed to whisper before slipping his tongue out to taste the cusp of the ear in front of him.

Seto’s anger at the mention of his brother faded into fear at his stepfather’s words. He couldn’t stand the idea of Gozaburo beating on his little brother! ‘Absolutely not,’ he told himself seriously just before a shiver wound through him. ‘W…what is he doing?!’ he wondered in sudden panic, his face growing hot. The sensation of having something wet wriggling inside his ear was too strange for Seto, his arms rising to push at Gozaburo’s shoulders.

A growl vibrated Seto’s ear, “Remember what I said,” the man rasped. “Lie still.”

‘Mokuba…’ Seto thought, nodding slightly. He bit his bottom lip, attempting to ignore what his stepfather was doing.

When he was ordered to strip himself, Seto’s hand shook so terribly that the task seemed impossible. After a short time, Gozaburo grew tired of waiting and finished for him, smiling as the final article of clothing was jerked free.

“Beautiful,” he commented, “flawless, save for the occasional bruise.” He chuckled, pressing on a rude-looking discoloration under the boy’s ribs. Seto flinched slightly. His eyes never left his own shoulder, his face hot with color as his stepfather’s eyes raked over him. “Look how obedient you are,” Gozaburo murmured. “Do you see how easy it is to do as I say, Seto-chan?”

Seto closed his eyes tightly, fighting to lie still as the older man chuckled, his fingers on the boy’s stomach.

“Do you have any idea what I am going to do to you, Seto-chan?” Gozaburo asked the boy, lust deepening his voice. Seto had some idea and what he did know made his eyes burn, small droplets forming at the corners of his eyelids. Gozaburo chuckled, his tongue tracing over his lips at the sight the embarrassed young boy made. “No one else is here, so feel free to scream,” Gozaburo drawled, his lips curving into a lewd smirk.

Within moments, the whip, the bottle of lubricant and even the vibrator the man had specifically brought out were forgotten. They slipped from the bed’s corner as the surface grew unstable, these the only witnesses to the young boy’s screams as he became a man.


“And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45 (.45)
Swimming through the ashes of another life (your life)

No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45”

Seto’s hands finally ceased trembling as the memory passed over him. The memories were as bad as nightmares sometimes, hitting him unexpectedly and forcing the past to return to the present. His fingers clenched tighter around the handle of the pistol in his lap. Against his sweaty palms, the metallic surface seemed frozen. It burned his skin as Seto lifted the semi-heavy weapon, turning the barrel to face him. He resumed his small caresses of the shiny surface, staring at the dark, unfocused reflection of himself. The object was beautiful in Seto’s eyes. Death wrapped in a sparkling silver case, calling out his name in invitation. How tempting.

The room was too stuffy, suffocating, the chill of moments before gone and with it Seto’s clarity of mind. His mouth opened in shaky breath, his parched tongue attempting to wet his chapped lips.

“What am I doing?” he breathed in question, though he knew the answer very well. His dim blue eyes leveled with the tilted gun, both hands holding tightly. He fingered the delicate curve of the trigger softly with his thumb, tracing its direction down to the tip.

Tomorrow was his dear, dear little brother’s birthday. This would be its first celebration without their stepfather. A special day, and today the start of a wonderful week planned for Mokuba alone. And here he was, staring at Death, alone in his room.

He knew everyone saw him as something unbreakable, cold and calculating to the point of cruelty. In some ways, this was true. His mask was one of perfection, unbreakable, indeed. It was the times when Seto was alone that he let that mask slide from his features, his invincibility slipping through his shaking hands. It was in these times that he felt most vulnerable to the past. It so easily caught up to him, gripping at his tender throat with a viciousness surpassing his own.

That was why keeping himself busy was so important. It had become a way of life, never stopping to think or feel anything that wasn’t necessary. Even with Gozaburo gone, the nightmares he experienced nightly would not let him know a peaceful sleep. His life was still a living, laughing Hell. Then again, at least Seto never had to worry about that man touching his little brother. Yes, Mokuba. He was the reason Seto existed, the one he was to protect without fail. Mokuba was the only one Seto had ever known who loved him unconditionally. The one and only soul who could extract warmth and even love from Seto’s forbidding heart.

“Mokuba…” the name fell from his dry, lax lips just before his hands tensed, pulling the trigger.


“Send a message to the unborn child
Keep your eyes open for a while”

The world was a sea of unrecognizable images for Seto when he awoke. His back ached, as did his legs, and his neck was terribly sore. After a few moments, he was able to force his blurry eyes to focus. He knew just where he was. There were no blissful moments of lapsed memory for the young man, the events of the last half hour repeating vividly in his mind’s eye. Red-eyed and utterly silent, Seto sat up to find himself alone in the large room, which he now guessed to be the master bedroom of the mansion. He scarcely remembered Gozaburo’s final words to him earlier before leaving the room to shower. Their little secret, he’d said. Seto wasn’t to mention this to anyone or else the same threats on his little brother would apply. The idea made him choke, and the muscles in his stomach reacted, tightening dangerously. In a rush, he fled from the disheveled bed and dropped hard to his knees beside the desk to one wall of the room. Holding tightly to the sides of the wastebasket there, Seto lurched violently, vomiting up what was in his stomach. The acid burning in his throat brought tears to his eyes, and the thought of the unsavory substance he was ridding his body of finally caused Seto to break down into sobs. When another wave would not come, the shaking figure tried to force it, ramming his fingers down the back of his throat until his throat burned again. Seto only relented after his stomach was empty to the point of pain, finally wiping his mouth and sitting against the desk, covering his wet eyes.

It wasn’t fair, subjecting him to this torture. What was Seto expected to do in the face of such an overwhelming situation? Refusing had been out of the question; he could never forsake his otouto, no matter what it meant for himself. But...but This? Could he really endure through his stepfather’s sick expectations from not only his mind, but now his body, as well?

He remained sitting there until Gozaburo exited the shower room, his hair damp and his eyes too jovial for Seto to look at for long. He curled his legs closer to his body, remembering now that he was naked. Gozaburo raised thick eyebrows at his stepson, eyeing the trashcan shortly before approaching the child. He took Seto by the shoulders, lifting the smaller form easily to his feet.

“Go get yourself cleaned up,” Gozaburo ordered, his voice devoid of the lusty drawl from earlier, “your brother will return shortly.” He gave Seto a little push between the shoulder blades, directing him to the large shower room Gozaburo had just been in.

Seto shut the door quickly, wishing there was a lock on the door, before hurrying to wash himself. He scrubbed until his skin became quite red under the too hot water, only stopping when he remembered he had to be fast. Mokuba could never know of this, he could never even be given reason to wonder.

Seto nearly shouted when he finished and turned around to see his stepfather standing behind him. Unsure of what to do, Seto simply stood still, avoiding his gaze. A small chuckle filled his ears and Seto cringed. He hated that sound worse than breaking glass. “Dry yourself,” commanded the deep voice, “here are your clothes.” At second glance, Seto did see the clothing in his stepfather’s hands, but that didn’t ease his mind in the least.
“Hai…” Seto answered. He really wished the man would leave, but seeing as that was not occurring, Seto did as he was told. He then had to approach Gozaburo to retrieve his clothes, his legs weakening with each step.

“Stop acting like such a coward!” Gozaburo suddenly barked, his annoyed voice echoing in the tiled room. With a start, Seto dashed forward and grabbed his clothing, dressing in seconds. “Now, go back to your studying, and remember,” Gozaburo kneeled to the boy, lifting his chin to face him, “keep this our business,” he finished, before covering Seto’s mouth with his own, reacquainting himself with the warm crevice behind his small lips. Disgusted with himself, and wishing he could wash his mouth, Seto merely nodded at the taller man before rushing from the room.

“I’m home!” came the excited cry of the youngest Kaiba as Mokuba rushed inside, less than an hour later. Halfway up the stairs, the smile on his lips bloomed even further, “Ni-sama!” he seemed to squeal, rushing to the older boy and hugging him. Seto smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm, hoping the fact that it did not reach his eyes would go unnoticed by his otouto. “School is really fun,” Mokuba stated, continuing on to explain the whole of his short day at pre- school.

The sound of his brother’s voice was refreshing to the brunette’s ears; his smile had the effect of a mild pain-killer. On impulse, Seto hugged the rambling boy to his front, hiding his face in the thick ebony hair at Mokuba’s neck. “I’m glad you had a good day…” Seto managed quietly.

“Ni-sama? How was your day?” Mokuba questioned, returning the hug eagerly, smiling at how his brother’s breath tickled the nape of his neck.

“It wasn’t so bad, I learned a lot today…” came the semi-truthful answer, his arms tightening. “Mokuba?”

“Hai?”

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you…so don’t leave me, onegai?”

“Of course, Ni-sama,” the boy said earnestly, “Mokuba, Ni-sama daisuki!”

Seto bit his lower lip when it threatened to tremble, ‘I can’t cry in front of him…’ “I love you, too, Mokuba.” Mokuba was the most important, the most important one of all. There was no guarantee Gozaburo would keep his promise to not touch Mokuba, even if Seto was obedient. Seto would not allow his forfeited childhood to amount to nothing. One day, the monster who was their father would pay for his theft, with his life. Seto’s eyes seemed to freeze as he held his brother, the cruelty planted within him awakening silently. Gozaburo would pay.


“In a box high upon a shelf
Left for you, no one else

There's a piece of a puzzle known as life
Wrapped in guilt, sewn up tight

What ever happened to the young man's heart
Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart

And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45 (.45)
Swimming through the ashes of another life (your life)

No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45”

“Ban,” Seto whispered dramatically. The pistol still pointed at his face, shiny as ever and just as cold. Seto drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to ease the pulsing of his blood. This was unhealthy and he knew it. He frowned down at the silent object, his eyes growing stern, hardening. In a moment, Seto stood, his legs striding quickly away from his corner and straight into the CEO’s large, walk-in closet. Against the end wall, lay a small open box with a silver case inside. The case’s velvet inner lining was a deep vermillion, the impression upon its surface awaiting the return of its prisoner. The weapon fit perfectly into the soft surface, the beauty of the union drawing Seto’s cobalt eyes momentarily before he shut the lid and locked it. The box was also shut, then stored away upon the highest shelf in the farthest corner, hidden from everyone’s eyes.

This was his little secret, his way of coping with what he could otherwise not handle silently, or at all. The .45mm pistol was just as it had been when Seto first bought it; a magnificent silver and completely empty.

He had never loaded the weapon, nor had he ever bought the necessary bullets. It was simply a very real prop in Seto’s occasional play and if there were other objects lying around, such as bullets, he might be tempted to take the acting up a notch.

At that, Seto produced a rare, true smile, his eyes softening just slightly. He would never do such a thing, even if the gun were loaded; he had too much that would be left behind unfinished. He had once given his brother a promise, and that agreement demanded the entirety of his mortal existence. He could not leave his brother alone, he loved him too much. Even if he could never be at peace with his past, Seto knew he would handle the pain and silently. He must. With that, the brunette’s mask was repositioned and his body regained its usual stance, screaming of power. Seto’s remaining clothing was quickly stripped as he strode from the closet to retrieve his shirt, tossing them all in the place for dirty laundry.
Seto dressed in the expensive business suit, fixing the collar with ease. The slim-fitting fabric now covering him was nothing less than perfection as Seto gracefully plucked a plastic covered hanger from his closet door and exited his room. After closing the door with an easy click, he made his way to the waiting stretch limousine outside.


“Everyone's pointing their fingers,
Always condemning me,

Nobody knows what I believe
I believe”

The black limousine came to a soft stop outside Mokuba’s school, drawing immediate attention, as it always did. Few could get used to the sight even if the same vehicle appeared daily. Seto was not about to let his precious younger brother endure public transportation alone. At 11, soon to be 12, Mokuba was undoubtedly more resourceful than his earlier years, but Seto, as any parent is aware, could not push away the old fears and worry for the younger boy’s safety. It had been threatened too many times already for Seto’s peace of mind to return easily.

He sat languidly in the back of the limousine, watching the students emerge from their final classes. Impatience darkened his eyes when Mokuba did not immediately appear and he took to tapping his slender fingers on his upper leg.

“Kaiba-sama, do not worry, the young master is usually a few minutes…” the chauffeur started.

“Silence,” Seto hissed, closing the black glass screen between the driver and himself. Usual or not, Seto did not like to wait; he was eager to see his brother. Another thorough search of the school front provided Seto with what he wanted. Mokuba was smiling, chatting to a small gathering of people as he exited the school. Seto’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight of Yuugi, always with his group, speaking freely with his brother. Mutou Yuugi was not actually an awful person, but Seto detested him anyhow; the circumstances of their very first duel would not permit Seto to accept the boy. Nor could he forgive the short boy for the shame Seto had suffered under Yuugi’s watch, that time when Seto’s duel had meant everything. He hadn’t been able to save Mokuba then, Yuugi had had to handle the task after Seto’s defeat. His pride had suffered horribly then. Even so, he was secretly grateful for the boy’s efforts. It had meant Mokuba’s safety, after all.

He frowned distastefully. That didn’t mean he’d ever reveal such thoughts. Instead, the brunette turned the door handle, ducking his head as he stepped from the limousine. His back curved once again to produce Seto’s proper height, his hand resting regally upon the top of the open door. He stared at Yuugi and his group for a few silent moments before parting his lips to shout, “Mokuba!”

Surprised by the familiarly harsh voice, the black-haired youth turned in a rush, “Ni-sama?” Seeing the expected stern face staring back at him, Mokuba’s eyes lit up and he turned back to his friends, “Gomen ne, I have to go. Ja ne, minna-san!” he called, waving his hand as he was already backing up to leave.

“Later, Mokuba-kun!” Yuugi called back, smiling. His maroon eyes looked over to the limousine where Kaiba Seto stood, waiting for his brother. Their eyes met momentarily, but just as Yuugi might have guessed, the brunette did not react in the slightest, turning his cold eyes downward toward Mokuba. Yuugi’s smile faded only slightly. He had once thought Seto would come around and accept his friendship, but by now that hope had been crushed in the blonde boy. Yuugi could accept that, though, as long as Seto had one friend he would let near him. Everyone needed at least one companion. Yuugi’s smile brightened again as he watched Mokuba rush his brother’s legs, offering him a hug that Seto did not deny. He caught the small smile upon the brunette’s lips, even as Seto tried to hide it. Yuugi turned away, content to leave them be.

Yuugi’s stare was starting to annoy Seto. The smaller boy had always been intrusive like that, so Seto simply discouraged Yuugi’s curiosity by averting his eyes. The other stares on him were even less approved of. The make-inu was giving Seto his evil-eye, as were his taller friend and the girl behind him. It was amusing, really. Did they expect him to care about their dislike of him? Seto’s immediate choice was to ignore them, which he did easily. He had better things to do.

Seto watched as his younger brother ran toward him, maneuvering through the throng of students about. When he had to stop and apologize for bumping into another boy, Seto made a mental note to remind Mokuba to be more careful.

“Ni-sama!” Mokuba greeted warmly. The boy was slightly winded as he reached Seto, hugging his taller sibling’s waist. “Why are you here?” Seto was usually too busy to pick him up every day, even if the limousine did.

“Mokuba, shall we go?” Seto suggested. A smile tugged unbidden at his lips as he moved from his brother’s way, still holding the door open. Mokuba did not even have to duck as he jumped through the opening, Seto bending low to follow him. Seto smirked humorously at Mokuba as he sat down beside the boy. “I have a surprise for you,” he informed the youth, whose silvery eyes widened perceptively.

“Honto? Nande?” Mokuba asked curiously, more intent on why than what it was; typical.

“Tomorrow, of course,” Seto informed him shortly, carefully reaching over to the item hanging from the hook over the opposite door. He removed the plastic covering to reveal a suit near identical to his own and just as expensive, but much smaller.

“Oh yeah,” the boy said thoughtfully, smiling; tomorrow was his birthday. Mokuba watched Seto quietly, until the sight of the black suit brought a small gasp from his lips. “Is that mine?”
Seto nodded, “Yes, you’ll need it for where we’re going. We’re headed there now, so you’ll have to change in here,” he finished, already starting to remove the soft suit from its hangers.

“Now?” the boy asked surprised, but his eyes showed his excitement. Mokuba did love secrets; they were similar to games, after all. He quickly removed his shirt and laid it on the seat, accepting the suit’s white undershirt from Seto. His small fingers buttoned up the shirt expertly, attaching the top one before asking, “Where are we going, Ni-sama?”

“On a date, Mokuba.”

“N…nani?” the boy exclaimed, his face growing red quickly, “What do you mean ‘a date’?”

Seto felt bad for just a moment, before the smile caught his lips, a small chuckle escaping him, “I was only joking, Mokuba,” he said, hoping to calm down his little brother, “now raise your arms.”

“Y…you’re joking? Mou…! Don’t say things like that, Ni-sama!” the younger boy proclaimed, the blush still resting darkly on his cheeks. His cheeks puffed out just slightly, his face settling into a reserved pout, even as he raised his arms to let Seto slip the black overcoat on him. Next were his pants, which Mokuba did quickly, laying them beside his earlier shirt. Lastly, were the black shoes, also identical to Seto's. He sat opposite of Seto’s seat, crossing his arms lightly across his chest.

“Ah, don’t be angry. We’re going to the highest rated restaurant in Japan, the very best, Mokuba,” Seto informed him, hoping to wipe that pout—adorable as it might be—from his face. Interested, the boy came to sit beside his brother, the embarrassment from before forgotten, replaced by those smiling eyes once again. They were a beautiful, shimmering silver color, just like his pistol. But then, the weapon could not compare to his Mokuba; it did not bring him happiness, but release.

“Honto?!” Mokuba slipped his arm around his brother’s, leaning on his side. Still staring at him, he asked, “Tomorrow’s my birthday, why do this today?”

“Don’t think this is all you get,” Seto said almost sternly. “Tomorrow we’re going away somewhere. We have a whole week. I have plenty of vacation time,” he added as an afterthought.

“Where are we going?” the younger boy asked, tugging slightly at his brother’s expensive sleeve. They hadn’t been on a vacation before, even as rich as they were. Seto had always spent most of his time at his company or with their stepfather. It was understandable since Seto was the heir, but Mokuba had often felt ignored. However, since Gozaburo had died, Seto’s actions had completely changed. Mokuba most often found himself the center of his brother’s attention. He knew it was not very nice to be glad that someone was dead…but Mokuba couldn’t help it; he was happy Gozaburo was gone if it meant Seto was around more.

“I have no idea.”

“Nani?” Mokuba inquired, his eyebrows lowering in confusion. “Why not?”

“The location is up to you, Mokuba, it is your birthday present, after all,” Seto smiled slightly, patting the boy on the head with his free hand. “Let’s do something about your hair…” he said suddenly.

“I get to choose?” He paused, “What’s wrong with it?” Mokuba asked, his expression getting close to his earlier pout.

Seto extracted a comb from an inner pocket in his overcoat, “It’s messy, turn around.” He frowned down at the back of his brother’s head, “Did you even brush it this morning?”

“Yes! It’s from swimming in gym…I didn’t have a brush with me,” Mokuba said in his defense. He flinched slightly, shutting one eye as Seto pulled at a tangle with the comb. After the first tangles were out, the brushing wasn’t so bad. In fact, the motions were soothing, relaxing and Mokuba soon found himself near sleep.

“Don’t fall off the seat, Mokuba,” Seto warned when his brother’s form began to lean over toward the edge.

“Ah, oops…how long will it be before we get there?” He wiped at his eyes, attempting to stay awake.

“No more than an hour, I assure you,” Seto replied, finally removing the comb from Mokuba’s hair. “There, it looks better now.” He returned the comb to his shirt, watching his brother right himself in the seat.

“Sankyuu, Ni-sama,” he smiled, running his fingers through his now acceptable hair. His eyes lit up suddenly, remembering, “So I can choose anywhere? Even out of Japan?” He looked skeptical. He knew they had plenty of money for it, but even so, Seto might not be willing to go that far away.

“Anywhere at all,” was the unexpected answer Mokuba received. As well as another small smile from his older brother. Of course, Seto would handle the reservations, tickets, packing, and whatever else needed to be done, but the place was all for Mokuba to decide.

Mokuba’s expression turned serious, his eyes stern and unfocused. It was so strange that it took Seto a moment to realize he was trying to think of a place to choose. He could take as long as he liked, they had an hour. He reached his arm out, hooking Mokuba around the neck and pulling him close. “Just take your time, Mokuba. We have plenty of time.” The boy snuggled closer, remaining in contemplation, but his face was less serious now. Seto watched him quietly. Mokuba was so warm, so full of life.

Yes, this was Seto’s reason, the only reason he still lived.

**
END

Translations (if needed):

Hai - Yes/Okay

Ni-sama - Older brother

Gomen nasaii - I’m very sorry

Summimasen - Forgive me/I’m very sorry

Sankyuu - Informal way of saying 'Thank you'

Daisuki - Really like or love

Nani - What(?)

Honto - Really(?)

Nande - Why/How come(?)

Ban - Sound effect commonly used for a gun. (i.e. Bang)