Chapter 15: Smoke and Mirrors and Blind Curves

Mokuba's handgun design turned out to be a drawing pad full of small caliber weapons. I made a few suggestions but overall the designs were well thought out and easily marketable.

"You and your brother are seriously into guns, aren't you?" one of my classmates asked me as I looked through the pad.

"It is the family business." I reminded him.

"Isn't it violent, though? I mean, don't you worry about all the people who die because of you?"

Someone at a press conference once asked my Father that. His answer had been that he had no control over how people use his products. For years I thought that was a reasonable answer. But as I started to say the words myself, I realized that it was wholly inadequate. I looked at the weapon sketched before me. It could be used to hunt for food but at its size, its true purpose was clearly to hunt man. This was a killer's weapon.

And a second thought – this is the weapon Mokuba wanted to carry.

I studied the design again. Although it was designed to look much like a six-shooter, it was really an auto load with a clip. Additionally, a small change would allow the user to manually load six bullets. It could be switched on the fly between manual, semi-auto and automatic fire. And it would load .38s or .357s. Mokuba even made notes about the aesthetics of the piece. It had smooth curves rather than sharp angles. It was deadly, sleek and sexy. And it was what my little brother wanted to carry with him.

"Kaiba-kun?"

I looked at the boy who was still waiting for his answer. "Yes." I nodded. "Yes, it is violent. But there is violence in the world. A gun like this one might be used in a robbery. Or it might be used to stop one. We are taught that violence is the way of the West. Thousands of Americans are killed by guns every year." I looked at the drawing again. "But just as many Japanese kill themselves with kitchen knives. Did you know that? They kill each other but we kill ourselves."

"People who do that are weak."

I nodded. It was a very Japanese belief. "Maybe. Or maybe it is easier. Maybe, if they had a gun, they would have killed someone else. An abusive father. A cruel employer. A classmate who asks too many questions."

"Uhh..."

"No need for concern." I closed the notebook. "You've given me something to think about."

The KaibaCorp my father guided was for his generation. They were formed before the gun control laws. It was a curious fact that of all the places I'd been in the world, the place I was least likely to find KC goods was my home. Father's way was to arm Iraq, Timor-Leste and Sudan. My generation talked about rebuilding them. Maybe my KaibaCorp should talk about that too.

Of course, that did not change the fact that I wanted one of Mokuba's designs for my own collection. As the boy said, we are into guns.

I sighed as I left the classroom. Contrary to what I'd told my brother, I really didn't know what I was planning to do next. This had to be the last time I allowed father to do this. I would have to find some way to free Mokuba and myself from his irrational and extreme moods. I had no doubt he knew I was hospitalized; would he have let me die? If I did, what would prevent him from turning these cruelties on my brother?

Yamada was correct – I was under the Age of Majority. For two more years, my father was my legal guardian. He could make decisions about me and for me and I had little to no legal recourse. I needed to find a way to stop that. I needed a reliable source of income. Real income. Poor sucked; it indebted you with no way of repayment. Very soon, several people would learn that Kaiba Seto settles his debits no matter how large.

But first, I had to decide how to handle father.

When I got home, I called Yamada. "You said Kawai-chan had applied for custody of me. What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, if she won – which is unlikely in your situation – she would be become your legal guardian. She could then sue to adopt you, if she wanted. It will never be granted, of course."

"Why not?"

"It would not be in your best interest. As Kaiba Gozaburo's son, you are virtual royalty. Perhaps if the Emperor wanted to adopt you, that might be granted. But, with an adoption like yours..."

"Was mine unusual?"

"The most famous adoption since Momotaro?" I had to smile. I used to read the 'Peach Boy' folk tale to Mokuba at the orphanage when he couldn't sleep. I always changed the name to 'Mokuba' and promised him that one day an old woman would find him. "The KaibaCorp website has the complete story of how Kaiba-sama found you."

"It has what?" How he 'found' me? Our family history was included on the website but the last time I'd seen it, it simply mentioned that we were adopted. A member of my staff normally alerted me to changes on the site; clearly it was a task I was neglecting these days.

"Yes, I read it when we filed the custody petition. It tells the whole story."

"Please, tell me. I'd like to hear how he's phrased it."

"Oh, well, it explains how he'd heard about an orphan who played chess at the grand master level but had no family to care for him or his brother. He made arrangements to adopt you right away. He set up the charitable event at the orphanage and made sure the staff told you that a chess master was coming. He was pleased that you challenged him and let you beat him at the match to test your skills. Naturally, no one thought seriously that a child could beat Kaiba-sama at chess." The distortion of facts was laughable but Yamada seemed to believe it. "He petitioned the Prime Minister himself to have your birth records changed and make you and your brother part of his bloodline. It was before the law was changed, you understand. Adopted children used to keep their original family name but your father went to great lengths to change yours. He is a very honorable man."

I nearly retched. "Quite." I swallowed the bile. "What if my father does not respond to the petition?"

"In any other case, I would say that either the petition would be granted, or, if the minor was over the age of 18, they would be granted Emancipation."

"Emancipation?"

"They would legally be granted the rights of majority. Of course, many 18 and 19 year olds are living on their own and supporting themselves quite well. We are only pursuing this issue because the hospital is claiming that you presented yourself as an adult and therefore should be held to it."

"Yes, of course. How would I go about petitioning for Emancipation?"

"You?" He sounded shocked. "Well, the process simply involves filing a few forms but, Kaiba-sama, forgive me, it would be foolish."

"And why exactly is that?"

"You will reach the age of majority in less than two years; it could take that long to bring the case before a magistrate. Additionally, it is unlikely that they would grant it. It seemed like the act of a ... it seems badly considered."

"What if I had just cause?"

"Unless you could prove gross physical abuse, repetitive sexual harm, or something equally as horrendous, I doubt there is anything that would qualify as just."

My throat went dry. He was partially correct; I could not prove he committed gross physical abuse, repetitive sexual harm, or other equally horrendous acts.

"I see."

"If, for some reason, you truly wanted to leave your father, the surest way would be if your natural family petitioned for custody."

"I thought you said Kaiba was now legally my family?"

"It is, but Japanese law prizes blood bonds above all others. If a blood relation sued for you, the Ministry of Family Services would undoubtedly re-open your original adoption case and reconsider your placement." He cleared his throat. "Of course, if that were to happen before the arbitration order was binding, it could be unfortunate. As Kaiba-sama's heir and eldest son, you are most highly prized."

"I am beginning to suspect that," I replied. "This information has been most illuminating."

I hung up and thought.

I didn't have many choices for legal independence. I wasn't going to accuse Father of the countless abuses he was guilty of without even a pretense of proof. And even if I had biological family apart from Mokuba, I would never be able to find them. Father's treatment was particularly pitiless if I used my birth name by mistake when I was first adopted. My memory is amazing, but that was one thing I learned to forget. Perhaps that is why Father prefers Mokuba to me – he seemed to have no trouble adapting to his new family. Within days, my brother called him 'Dad' and introduced himself as Kaiba while I had to have my past beaten out of me.

I didn't see another way. Freedom from Gozaburo would come only at his death or mine. Mine seemed to defeat the purpose. His seemed unlikely. Perhaps I could cough on him and give him mono.

There had to be a strategy I wasn't thinking of. We were playing a game, he and I.

No.

We were playing multiple games. I was thinking in one arena. But to win this, I needed to think in all arenas at once. I needed to beat him at my game, at his game, and at any game he could think of next.

He let me beat him at chess. Let's see if he lets me beat him at war.

I was still contemplating my options when Honda came home. He had two armloads of groceries and as I opened the door for him, the phone rang.

"Can you get that? My eyeballs are floating!" He rushed into the bathroom without waiting for my response.

I picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

I heard Joey actually giggle. "Quit it, dude!" He told someone in the background. I heard them kiss; a wet smacking sound. "I'm on the phone! He'll hear you." Another voice – a male voice – promised to do audible things to Joey in the near future. "Just gimmie – hold on – Hello?"

"Hello Joseph." I said trying to keep my voice level.

"Kaiba?" He asked. Not even 'Tak' anymore. "Uh, hey."

"Who was that?" I asked, hoping I sounded restrained.

"My roommate." He answered. There was a small note of guilt.

"I thought you were staying with your grandparents."

"It wasn't working out." He cleared his throat. "Is, uh, is Honda there?"

"He's unavailable." I could feel my body shaking with emotion. "You two sound close. Very affectionate."

"Seto, it's nothing. Me and Diesel go way back."

"Is this the same Diesel that you only gave one good night kiss to?"

"Yeah. So?" He paused. "How's your babysitter? He still taking care of you?"

"No. And he hasn't for quite some time. As if you'd have noticed if I had died."

"You know what?" Joey all but screamed. "Fuck you! Don't get all pissed at me when you know damn well you been doing that guy since Christmas – at least!"

"YOU OVERSEXED, MONGREL SON-OF-A-BITCH!" I howled. "I was in a hospital! I wasn't even doing my right hand! Now you have the unmitigated gall to use Pharaoh as an excuse for your deceitful, two-timing, backstabbing, disloyal behavior?" I took a breath; I was feeling a bit light-headed. "I trusted you, you damn mutt! I've never trusted anyone but I trusted you."

"You did it to me first, asshole." He shot back. "Did you think I wouldn't know? You won't even say you love me anymore. And you never trusted me, Tak."

"Don't call me that! You lost the right to call me that!" Something inside my chest actually hurt. "And how could you claim I don't trust you?"

"You never got it, did you? Did Honda finally tell you?"

"Tell me what? That you're a liar?"

"Fuck you! You never trusted me, you arrogant prick! You trusted your precious name. You figured I wouldn't cheat on you because who would do that to Kaiba? Did it ever even occur to you that maybe I love you enough that I wouldn't cheat on you even if your name was Jack Shit? DID IT?" One of us sniffed loudly. "Well I fucking hope you and your fucking babysitter are fucking happy!" The line cut.

There was no sound except my own sniffles for a moment then I heard Honda clear his throat behind me.

"Uh, Seto..."

I put up my hand to stop anything he was going to say. "Did you know?"

"No. Not really. He said a couple things that made me wonder. And I told him the same thing I told you. Tell you the truth or cut it off with the other one." He paused. "Seto, I'm so-"

"DON'T!" I roared. "I don't need your pity or your sympathy. I should never have gotten involved with him."

I left. Honda didn't try to stop me, but he looked as if Joey had broken his heart too.

I got on my bike and took off. I couldn't see anything in front of me – something was blurring my vision – but I wasn't trying to go anywhere. Still, when I found myself at the mall, I parked and went in. In the past, I have always used work to drown emotional pain. Hopefully, the store would let me put in a few extra hours.

KimKim saw me as I came through the door. "SeSe-kun?" She ran out from behind the register, leaving a customer standing there. "What's wrong? ChouChou! Miko-chan! Hurry!"

They all clustered around me and coaxed the whole phone conversation out of me. I realized, then, why I was here.

I could cry. I could cry and not lose face with them.

When the store closed, they took me to a karaoke bar. I had never been to one before. We drank kamikazes and sang bad love songs. When we staggered out, the sun was up.

We got a cab together and he dropped ChouChou and KimKim at their respective homes. "You shouldn't be alone." Miko-chan told me when we got to her place. She pulled me out of the cab.

I woke up to a splitting headache and a mass of black hair covering my chest.

My naked chest.

There was a warm, soft, naked body pressed against my naked body. It definitely had too many lumps to be Pharaoh and the hair color was wrong to be Ryou or Joey. That exhausted the list of people I expected to find in that position. I would have presumed it was a dream if not for the headache.

I tried to remember the previous night, but most of it was a blur. The girls and I went to a bar where I proceeded to act like a common tramp. We were loud. We were that group that usually drives me out of an establishment. Father often lectured me on the evils of strong drink and, for once, I found myself in complete agreement. Whatever I was drinking should be banned by The Hague.

He moved and I realized that my arm was still around his back. I struggled to recall a face, a name, anything to belie the fact that slept with – probably fucked – some unknown man I picked up at a club somewhere. Some unknown fat man.

I didn't completely lose my wits; I didn't have a tell-tale ache in my posterior.

Then she sighed in her sleep.

I didn't know any oaths strong enough for the moment. 'I slept with a girl! I quite possibly had sex with a girl. I am waking, naked, in a strange bed, with a girl in my arms and I have no memory of the preceding event.'

"Oh dear God." I said for lack of anything else.

She sighed again. "SeSe-kun?" I recognized the voice, at least. Miko-chan. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

What was wonderful, I wondered. Did she think we were going to do it again? Did she think we were dating now? What was she going to tell the others? Was I going to have to 'service' them as well?"