Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ If It Means Anything ❯ If It Means Anything... ( One-Shot )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: Aegis-Koetsu 
On a sleepless night turned early morning, Seto Kaiba visits his sleeping brother and remembers his climb up the Kaiba Corp ladder.
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.02.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 686 | Status: Completed
On a sleepless night turned early morning, Seto Kaiba visits his sleeping brother and remembers his climb up the Kaiba Corp ladder.
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.02.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 686 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. I only use them for entertainment purposes.
The night light in the corner held only a dim illumination, but it was enough for Seto to find his way to the side of the bed. The blankets were messed and wrinkled about, only partially covering who lay beneath them. All was silent, save for the rhythmical ticking of the clock on the wall.
Sleepless nights were harsh. Though he normally found comfort in reviewing his card strategy; nothing really put him to sleep like remembering the simple days of his childhood. Mokuba was his only link back to that time. Amongst all the business propositions, meetings, phone calls, and the cold color of steely, corporate blue; Mokuba's innocent dark yet bright eyes were a break through all of that. Had this youth of childish affection never existed or had been lost since he began all of this; sleepless nights could go on forever.
Brushing back stray locks of soft black hair, he viewed the innocent face of his little brother. The bed moved only slightly as he sat down on the edge; he was careful not to wake the younger one. Though, the crack and boom of the thunder outside that threatened the ground for rain and storm might awaken the boy, but it didn't. It was probably because his natural world now was much like hearing thunder every minute of every day. Becoming so accustomed to it, the youth of course could sleep easily through any storm.
The giant grandfather clock in the hall gave out it's low rings to signal three times--it was three in the morning. He knew two more hours there would be the first sheds of daylight spraying through as a baby blue passed the white curtains in this room. Sunrises were simple and tranquil in this room, in his own room, they were nothing but an annoying way to say, 'It's morning, get up, you have a company to run.'
More or less, every morning in his own bedroom told him that Kaiba Corp. couldn't run itself, that he had responsibility, that when he saw the way the green grass and bright sunshine was so inviting--he was never to play again.
Because the mornings in his own room were so horrifying and painful, Seto figured staying in here would change all of that. Just two hours, he could survive two hours if he had went more than eighteen without sleep. Somehow, he figured that watching the sunrise in this room would change today. He always felt this way when he watched Mokuba sleep. It was like when he watched Mokuba sleep, that he could feel the essence of innocence in him, and he drew off of that to give to his own energy.
Amongst the stillness Mokuba rolled over onto his other side, facing is older brother without knowing. An almost transparent smile appeared on Seto's lips. He watched so much smaller hands grasp the pillow under their owner's head, a slight sigh of breath escaped him, and a small twitch. Mokuba was dreaming something, Seto could only hope it was a pleasant dream.
Within the thought of hoping his brother was dreaming something pleasant, Seto remembered the things Mokuba cried over when the joyful dreams of caracoles rides and candy stories faded into nightmares of falling off tall buildings or not being able to find his big brother.
Seto remembered the times that a little hand patted him in his sleep, with little sniffles in his name that awoke him. Then as he turned over, his little brother was somewhere in there under messy, long black hair, and streams of tears. Without asking for any permission, the youth opened the blankets on an empty spot very close to him, and buried his face into his pajama top while sobbing the recollections of his nightmare. Though those times were a bit irritating, especially in times when there was nothing wrong but Mokuba insisted on sleeping in his bed; he missed the times when the boy got older, and the visits in the night were more and more far in-between.
Quickly he dismissed the thoughts of nightmares, and attempted to focus on other things. However, the bad memories caught up with him, and he remembered his own nightmares that haunted him both in his sleep and in his day light hours.
Without being able to stop it, he remembered the years he climbed the corporate totem-pole in order to out run his step father. All those he stepped on and pushed aside to get here, and the years that him and Mokuba grew apart. No longer did he take time to stop in the middle of whatever project he did to spend a moment either to listen to his little brother or play a game with him. Instead, he shooed away the youth, telling him he hadn't the time for childish games, when in fact, he was still a child according to years himself.
He recalled the disappointment on Mokuba's face every time he shooed him away. The disappointment stopped him from coming all together eventually, and he got what he wanted, peace and quiet for his work. For a few years that seemed too many, Mokuba was only a shadow that he would see from the corner of his eye, scurrying across the hall. There was even a year he forgot his own little brother's birthday and even his age. It was after he and Mokuba had an argument, and the little one threatened to run away back to the orphanage, did he begin to pay more attention to his little brother again. But that promise did not fill it's full potential, eventually, the business became more important to him again, and Mokuba was close to become a shadow once more.
All of this time of bad recollection had caused him to lose sight of the time, before he knew it, the giant grandfather clock in the hall rang low five times--it was morning at last.
Dark hues of blue had begin to fade into the room, in a few minutes, it would be morning. But what would he do then? Go to bed? Go back to work? Wake Mokuba up, but for what? Things began to look more like a dreary painting made entirely of the colors grey, black, and an ugly color of corporate steel blue. Thoughts escaped him for a long moment.
Silently and gently, he bent forward and kissed the warm forehead of his little brother. Respectfully, he pulled the blankets up to secure the child in his sleep, then before standing away from him he whispered very faintly,
"Mokie, if it means anything... I didn't mean it..."
The night light in the corner held only a dim illumination, but it was enough for Seto to find his way to the side of the bed. The blankets were messed and wrinkled about, only partially covering who lay beneath them. All was silent, save for the rhythmical ticking of the clock on the wall.
Sleepless nights were harsh. Though he normally found comfort in reviewing his card strategy; nothing really put him to sleep like remembering the simple days of his childhood. Mokuba was his only link back to that time. Amongst all the business propositions, meetings, phone calls, and the cold color of steely, corporate blue; Mokuba's innocent dark yet bright eyes were a break through all of that. Had this youth of childish affection never existed or had been lost since he began all of this; sleepless nights could go on forever.
Brushing back stray locks of soft black hair, he viewed the innocent face of his little brother. The bed moved only slightly as he sat down on the edge; he was careful not to wake the younger one. Though, the crack and boom of the thunder outside that threatened the ground for rain and storm might awaken the boy, but it didn't. It was probably because his natural world now was much like hearing thunder every minute of every day. Becoming so accustomed to it, the youth of course could sleep easily through any storm.
The giant grandfather clock in the hall gave out it's low rings to signal three times--it was three in the morning. He knew two more hours there would be the first sheds of daylight spraying through as a baby blue passed the white curtains in this room. Sunrises were simple and tranquil in this room, in his own room, they were nothing but an annoying way to say, 'It's morning, get up, you have a company to run.'
More or less, every morning in his own bedroom told him that Kaiba Corp. couldn't run itself, that he had responsibility, that when he saw the way the green grass and bright sunshine was so inviting--he was never to play again.
Because the mornings in his own room were so horrifying and painful, Seto figured staying in here would change all of that. Just two hours, he could survive two hours if he had went more than eighteen without sleep. Somehow, he figured that watching the sunrise in this room would change today. He always felt this way when he watched Mokuba sleep. It was like when he watched Mokuba sleep, that he could feel the essence of innocence in him, and he drew off of that to give to his own energy.
Amongst the stillness Mokuba rolled over onto his other side, facing is older brother without knowing. An almost transparent smile appeared on Seto's lips. He watched so much smaller hands grasp the pillow under their owner's head, a slight sigh of breath escaped him, and a small twitch. Mokuba was dreaming something, Seto could only hope it was a pleasant dream.
Within the thought of hoping his brother was dreaming something pleasant, Seto remembered the things Mokuba cried over when the joyful dreams of caracoles rides and candy stories faded into nightmares of falling off tall buildings or not being able to find his big brother.
Seto remembered the times that a little hand patted him in his sleep, with little sniffles in his name that awoke him. Then as he turned over, his little brother was somewhere in there under messy, long black hair, and streams of tears. Without asking for any permission, the youth opened the blankets on an empty spot very close to him, and buried his face into his pajama top while sobbing the recollections of his nightmare. Though those times were a bit irritating, especially in times when there was nothing wrong but Mokuba insisted on sleeping in his bed; he missed the times when the boy got older, and the visits in the night were more and more far in-between.
Quickly he dismissed the thoughts of nightmares, and attempted to focus on other things. However, the bad memories caught up with him, and he remembered his own nightmares that haunted him both in his sleep and in his day light hours.
Without being able to stop it, he remembered the years he climbed the corporate totem-pole in order to out run his step father. All those he stepped on and pushed aside to get here, and the years that him and Mokuba grew apart. No longer did he take time to stop in the middle of whatever project he did to spend a moment either to listen to his little brother or play a game with him. Instead, he shooed away the youth, telling him he hadn't the time for childish games, when in fact, he was still a child according to years himself.
He recalled the disappointment on Mokuba's face every time he shooed him away. The disappointment stopped him from coming all together eventually, and he got what he wanted, peace and quiet for his work. For a few years that seemed too many, Mokuba was only a shadow that he would see from the corner of his eye, scurrying across the hall. There was even a year he forgot his own little brother's birthday and even his age. It was after he and Mokuba had an argument, and the little one threatened to run away back to the orphanage, did he begin to pay more attention to his little brother again. But that promise did not fill it's full potential, eventually, the business became more important to him again, and Mokuba was close to become a shadow once more.
All of this time of bad recollection had caused him to lose sight of the time, before he knew it, the giant grandfather clock in the hall rang low five times--it was morning at last.
Dark hues of blue had begin to fade into the room, in a few minutes, it would be morning. But what would he do then? Go to bed? Go back to work? Wake Mokuba up, but for what? Things began to look more like a dreary painting made entirely of the colors grey, black, and an ugly color of corporate steel blue. Thoughts escaped him for a long moment.
Silently and gently, he bent forward and kissed the warm forehead of his little brother. Respectfully, he pulled the blankets up to secure the child in his sleep, then before standing away from him he whispered very faintly,
"Mokie, if it means anything... I didn't mean it..."