Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Despite What You Might Think... ❯ Might ( Chapter 4 )

Despite What You Might Think

MIGHT

Dedicated to Meena, the Meaner, whom, though not a Yu-Gi-Oh fan is a wonderful scenario consultant and an absolutely frustrating beta.

AN: Overdue, I know. But something happened while I was trying to get this finished - Life.

Author's advice: Never try to write on a road-trip, during preparations for a funeral, during refurbishing or during exams. Trust me, I know.

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Mokuba couldn't help it. He hadn't meant to sound as though he was laughing at them (which he was) but certain events in life are so unexpected that whatever one feels like doing, one does. All he had wanted to do was chuckle. Like all things that eventually explode, his laughter had also started out small. First, it was a repressed snicker, then a snigger, then a chuckle, a giggle, a guffaw and finally, all out laughter.

With tears of mirth now flowing freely down his cheeks and his ribs burning, he found he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. In fact, it was as if he had watched everything in slow motion, which simply amplified his amazement and amusement.

He had noticed the moment Seto entered the room. It wasn't like Seto had been trying to hide this time. Also, there was something about the perfume Seto used - Safari, if he remembered correctly - that was just too noticeable.

Anzu had made her dive but Mokuba was much more interested in the expression on his brother's face. Whether or not Anzu could pull off a Triple Pike was no longer an issue. Her gracefulness wasn't even half as amazing as his latest discovery.

It seemed that Ms. Mazaki had a certain kind of something that won over not just him but apparently all Kaiba men. His older brother included; or should that be, most of all? And for once it seemed that Seto wasn't going to cover up his expression. Maybe it was because he thought she couldn't see him, but he didn't revert to his unemotional stare.

Mokuba felt that, at that moment, his brother was much more human than he had been in a long time. Then, he turned and realised that Anzu was in such a position that flailing her arms and legs wouldn't have made her situation any worse. He watched until she was as good as hitting the water and turned back to Seto who, ever so slowly, made one step over the edge of the pool and, not noticing the lack of grounding beneath that foot, proceeded to lift the other, extend it, and sink in a manner that would have made the Titanic proud.

In the minute that it took him to get over his shock, the two had scrambled out of the water and were glaring/not looking at each other. He'd completely missed what they had said. One step forward, two steps backward.

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"Excuse me?"

"They hired you?" he asked once again. Well, not really. From the time the words left his mouth, Seto knew they would not go over smoothly. Anzu raised a highly sarcastic eyebrow at him.

"And you find that…?" She left the question hanging in the air, a kind of fill-in-the-blank thing. Despite the fact that she knew she was simply an employee in his home at the moment, she couldn't help her response to him.

Anzu was highly aware of being completely at his mercy, of being dressed in only a swimsuit and a towel, and of his eyes that were trying, and failing, to not look at her. All the while, images of him and the white teddy bear blinked at the back of her mind.

Instead of the expected response - something angry or, at least, biting - Seto's voice was neutral, almost blasé.

"Simply surprising," he mumbled.

Well, she had something to say to that…"Oh." Very eloquent.

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Seto was having a very bad day. He was soaked to the bone and highly embarrassed. Together, they fashioned an odd combination of unfamiliar sensations that made him extremely uncomfortable. It didn't help any that his younger brother was laughing at him in front of…her.

He hated being made a fool of, even more when it was public. Unfortunately, what made him angrier was the fact that he had made himself a fool. There was no one to get revenge on - or rather, to blame it on - other than himself. He had walked into the pool by his own volition. Damn.

He looked up, directly at Anzu. She was the new babysitter? Spring had suddenly become so much more interesting. At least he knew that Mokuba wouldn't be bored out of his mind. Anzu had been at almost every duel Yugi Motou had ever participated in. She must have gained some knowledge of Duel Monsters. In any case, she would at least have a few good stories.

He noticed her shiver as he watched her. He hadn't realized that he'd been staring for such a protracted period of time. Some part of him - mostly his male ego - delighted in its assumption that he was able to make her do that simply by looking at her. He told it to shut up. It didn't.

Who was he today, Yugi Motou and friends? He wasn't one to normally have random voices in his head that he had to constantly shut up. That aside, he knew, through past personal experience, that such thoughts about a certain brunette never led anywhere he wanted to go. Deciding it would be the best thing to do, he tried to stop thinking.

He needed to change his clothes and he needed to be away from her. He looked away abruptly. There was no other way. He needed one quick motion to rip his eyes away.

"I'm going to change," he stated, his voice sounding much louder than it should have to his ears even over Mokuba's almost hysterical laughter. Without another word, he turned swiftly on his heel and strode towards his room.

He really hated his life…

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Anzu refused to look at him. She scowled harshly in her mind. Her day had rapidly gone downhill, from "OK" to one of the "10 Absolute Worst" of her life. It was right up there with being chained under an unstable container by a possessed Egyptian lunatic. The reason this time, however, was much more internal, more about what she had done than what someone had done to her.

First of all, although it wasn't so bad, she had bombed an almost perfect dive. She personally hated making mistakes. What really peeved her was the reason she had bombed said dive. All because of a simple glance at Seto Kaiba…

So what if he had been watching her? So what if she had gotten butterflies in her stomach because of it? So what if she suddenly felt that everything she did had to be perfect? So what if, despite her previous 'perfection inclination', she felt like she couldn't move? That gave her no right to make a fool of herself.

Such clumsiness was not typical Anzu behaviour. Most times her demeanour turned…well, ice cold whenever he entered the room. What had gone wrong with her flawless defence mechanism? When had her reflexes decided to malfunction? Why had she reacted to his expression like that? What was it about the way he'd been looking at her?

A thought nagged at her until she allowed it to emerge. Maybe she felt something for him? Maybe she thought he felt something for her? Maybe, just maybe, she had the teeny-tiniest crush on him? No, didn't think so either. Probably a flu, a virus, of some kind.

She realised that he had been looking at her for quite some time and although everything in her screamed for her to glare, she was unable to repress the shiver. She knew it had been visible and she knew that he had seen it. After all, hadn't he been staring? But she was cold damn it! All she was wearing was a swimsuit and a towel. What did he expect?

At least, that's what she told herself.

"I'm going to change," he said suddenly. Anzu allowed herself to look at him when she sensed his eyes move. He turned without another word and left. Thinking that she ought to do the same, Anzu turned towards a still laughing Mokuba who was turning an unhealthy shade of red, rolled her eyes and told him to go change. Then she left for the guestroom where she had deposited her clothes.

She really hated her life…

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Seto allowed himself to burn in the shower. His cheeks were on fire from embarrassment. As he washed the chlorine out of his hair, he tried not to think of anything. He would be spending more and more time at the office this Spring although he had promised Mokuba he would try to be home. Suddenly, he shook his head. Why should he let one little girl make him break a very important promise? All he had to do was make he sure he didn't have anything to do with her.

He towel-dried his hair as he absentmindedly pulled an outfit out of his closet. Checking to see that he had at least pulled out a shirt and pants, he quickly dressed. On a whim, instead of climbing into socks and boots, he grabbed sandals and hastily shoved his feet into them. Then he stopped as he asked himself, what was he hurrying for? He shrugged and took his time.

When he neared his door, he heard feminine laughter. Great. Seto steeled himself and opened his door.

Why, really why, did Fate hate him?

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Anzu hardly ever took a long time to dry her hair. Today, however, she tried to prolong it as much as possible. Yeah, she was stalling. When she was sure that it was dry - and knew for certain that if she took any longer, Mokuba would think something serious had happened to her - she checked her reflection in the mirror one last time.

Although her clothes weren't anything special, she thought she looked good in them. Not that she was trying to impress anyone but it didn't hurt to not look like a chew-toy. Sighing, she opened the door to face the music.

Mokuba had practically rushed at her as soon as he noticed it had opened. True to his still mostly unselfconscious age, he'd genuinely carelessly thrown on a pair of baggy blue jeans and a random white t-shirt.

When he turned around to start leading her off to their next fun destination, she got a chance to read the print on the back. She'd become accustomed to the outrageousness of them. This one read 'Shock me, say something INTELLIGENT.'

She was still laughing out loud when they arrived outside of Mokuba's room and the mysterious door across the hall opened. Seto stepped out and, right then, Anzu's day just got a tiny bit worse.

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Mokuba took a minute to process what he was seeing. He was sorely tempted to laugh again but he realised that it would simply create more tension instead of easing any. So he settled for playing peacemaker, or comic relief, or whatever.

Anzu, he knew, had arrived in her ensemble of dark brown, mid-thigh-length shorts, a fitted, short-sleeved, cream button-down shirt and dark-brown sandals. Seto, he also knew, had no way of knowing this. It therefore stood to reason that someone, somewhere above, must've thought it would be a highly interesting coincidence for Seto to pull similar colours from his wardrobe.

Decked in a short-sleeved, V-necked, cream T-shirt, loose-but-not-exactly-baggy dark brown cargo jeans and sandals; Mokuba's brother stood in the middle of the hallway, the butt of a hilarious-by-any-standards cosmic joke. Mokuba, who was only just thirteen, wondered why it was that the same someone found it fit to test his willpower. He watched their eyes widen to the size of saucers before they both looked away, pretending they didn't notice.

There was only so much a kid could take before cracking up…

Noticing the silence that had descended upon the trio, however, Mokuba realised that as interesting as he thought this Spring would be, he would spend it in almost complete silence unless he did some serious ice-breaking. If only he owned a jackhammer. He checked his watch: Lunch time.

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"Seto, don't you think it's time we had lunch?" Mokuba asked suddenly, breaking Seto away from his internal rant on the cruelty of coincidence. Seto looked down at the one person in his life that he gave a damn about and nodded. In answering, he woke his appetite. He hadn't eaten breakfast, as usual, but he'd normally have had lunch by now. He didn't protest when Mokuba did an about face and started marching towards the east patio where it was traditional for them to have lunch together whenever possible.

"I think the cook should have something ready by now, Anzu." Mokuba was chattering at ninety miles an hour about lunch, all the while tugging on the arm of his babysitter. The fact that the two of them were comfortable enough to allow any level of physical contact surprised Seto for a moment. Then he remembered who had been instrumental in saving Mokuba more than once when Seto hadn't been able to himself.

Dropping a couple of steps behind, he silently observed the two. He watched his little brother smile and laugh and joke easily in a manner he hadn't seen before. It wasn't flirtatious but something about the way Mokuba was carrying himself around Anzu was different from the way he normally was.

Then again, Mokuba was thirteen and on the brink of a new awareness about everything in the world. Including females. Seto remembered being thirteen. There hadn't been a big celebration. It had disappointed him somewhat but he'd shared his festivities with Mokuba and their adoptive father. It hadn't been that bad. His foster father hadn't been that bad, in fact. But he still wanted something more for Mokuba.

Mokuba's party had been huge, held on the Saturday before the actual day, but Seto hadn't attended. On the actual day of his birth, a Wednesday this year, Seto had taken him out to dinner and they'd had a quiet but fun evening together, simply enjoying being family. The Friday night Mokuba had gotten his birthday present. Although Seto had returned from the Linkin Park concert with a pounding headache, Mokuba had had fun and that was what mattered.

The fact hadn't hit him until that moment, however, that Mokuba was really growing up. As he watched them, Seto realised that it was true. One thing that made him happy though, was the fact that Mokuba had friends and was so at ease with people…so unlike Seto himself. Being cramped up in an office, working day in and day out, could really hinder social development.

A part of him admired Mokuba tremendously. If he'd been that smooth with girls when he was thirteen… His gaze then travelled up the arm that rested on Mokuba's shoulder to Anzu. If he'd been more open, more friendly, more like Mokuba, he just might've… he shook his head suddenly. 'Might've had a chance? At what?' he asked himself sternly.

'At that,' he thought. Then he sat down quietly, stared out at his garden, and refused to think of how well those clothes suited Anzu's form; how well the colours matched her complexion; how good her hair looked when freshly washed; how alluring Dazzling Silver by Esteé Lauder smelled on her; how much she challenged him; how much of an appealing enigma she was to him; or how much, true to his meticulous nature, he wanted to solve her.

Too bad it wasn't working.

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Mokuba was torn…between a small sense of satisfaction and utter frustration. In the past five days he'd succeeded making them sit in the same room and nothing else. There had been no progress at Thursday's lunch. Since lift off had failed, there was, inevitably, no mission. It irked him to no end that both Seto and Anzu could be so stubborn. And he had thought that his brother took the cake at that. He sighed. At least they were perfectly matched.

Through this dark curtain of despair that threatened to veil his hope of ever getting the two to like each other shone two, almost miniscule, rays of light. The fact was, that they were there. Mokuba knew, from observation, that the two of them shared a similar penchant. They both seemed unable to resist looking at each other. Not that anyone would hold it against either of them; his brother was almost equal to a rock star when it came to having female fans, however, he truly abhorred the attention. On the other hand, Anzu was not without her own admirers. She appeared oblivious to the stares she received from not only Lower School1 boys but also those in her own school, his own brother included.

If it hadn't been for the second tiny shred of promise, Mokuba might have given up on Saturday. When Mokuba began to feel much like he had been cursed with a complete Mission Impossible, he realised that Seto was suddenly arriving home much earlier and that Anzu seemed to extend her hours of service. This had only gone on for four out of the eight days that Anzu had been working in the mansion (starting on Friday) but it brought a smirk to Mokuba's face when he thought about it.

There was hope… This rocket might fly.

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Anzu settled into the chair, letting the fluffy white cushions envelop her. If there was one thing she had to give Kaiba credit for, it was comfortable furniture. The sofa was so big it swallowed her. She doubted anyone could see her from the other side of this thing; it was perfect.

She snuggled deeper into the warmth of the chair and proceeded to pick up from where she had last left off in Court Duel. Mokuba had practically blacked out after his morning karate class and was upstairs sound asleep. With a few free hours on her hands, she allowed herself to be swept up into Sherwood Smith's world of intrigue and romance once again.

For the most part, Anzu was generally left alone and uninterrupted by the other nearly undetectable servants whenever she was not with Mokuba. Today was no exception. That was, until a totally unexpected presence landed on the opposite side of the couch. Her feet, which were outstretched but curled slightly because of the angle she was sitting at, were nearly brushing the fabric of his trench coat.

Seto Kaiba looked exhausted. Anzu almost panicked when she dragged herself out of Remalna, away from Vidanric, and back to reality. It occurred to her in a single, small moment of clarity that he was not aware of her being there. Deciding that it was best not to interfere, she turned her head back to her book. Her only problem was: how to turn her attention back too?

She could see him clearly from the corner of her eye. Seto's head was thrown back, his eyes were closed and his face looked weary. It was not the way a sixteen-year-old was supposed to look. Suddenly he moved, bringing hands upwards and pressing the base of his palms flat against his closed eyes. He swore quietly and groaned.

Even though Anzu knew it was an outside chance and doubted very much that he would accept, she opted to offer him some help. She knew how to cure a headache; the least she could do was offer it to him from one human being to another. Any other protests her mind might have put forward were silenced by one simple image - a white teddy bear.

Timidly, she reached out and touched his elbow. Taking a deep breath, she murmured, "Would you like some help with that?"

Albeit the fact that his arm was thrown across his face, she knew he knew who it was. She watched as his entire body went rigid; from his feet that had been extended aimlessly in front of him and left to hang ungracefully without support to the very tips of his fingers. His countenance, which had appeared sapped only moments before looked even more tired when he tried - and failed - to make himself alert. To Anzu, he appeared to be the embodiment of the idea of "kicking a dead horse".

It only served to make her all the more willing to help. If there was one thing she could not bear it was to watch another suffer and know she had the power to alleviate his pain. She knew, however, that no matter how much she wanted to help, she could not if Seto Kaiba did not give his consent. She could not, like in certain other situations, force assistance upon him. So she held her breath in the few seconds it took his body to relax. Then, without a word, he nodded.

Shocked that it had been that easy, Anzu marked her page, stood up and moved towards his end of the sofa. She stood beside the handle on his end and arrived at a conclusion, the back of the couch was too high for what she had in mind. She cleared her throat. Nothing in the universe could have made her any more confident about what she was about to say.

"You're…umm…going to have to turn sideways and…er…sit up straight, will you? I can't do anything with you where you are." Slowly, the hand slithered downwards, away from his face and he looked up at her. Kaiba's expression was blank. She coughed and explained, "My mother is a physical therapist. She taught me how to cure headaches when I was eight."

Nothing. Despite the fact that his eyes held no emotion, they kept hers riveted. It was as if she was staring at blue wallpaper. She blushed and looked away. Why wasn't he saying anything? She heard a rustle and when she looked back, he had done what she asked. She sighed. Time to get to work.

As soon as she placed her hands on his shoulders, she knew he had to loose the trench coat. It, combined with the shirt beneath, was too thick and working through it would seriously ache her fingers. She hesitated for a moment, wondering how to word her sentence when suddenly, for the first time, Kaiba spoke.

"I suppose I should take this off," he said. The first thing she noticed was his voice. It was naturally a bit deeper and huskier than the other guys' but it sounded raspy - like his throat was bordering on sore. And it too reflected his fatigue.

Nevertheless, before she could reply, he'd already shrugged off one arm of coat and was peeling away the next. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought that he had Pegasus' mind reading abilities.

She watched his shoulders as he moved. She'd always supposed that their width came from shoulder pads or something or the other to that effect. While she'd seen him without his trench coat on more than one occasion, it had always been brief and she'd never actually looked. Now, she knew the truth. It was plain that there was nothing under the white material of his work shirt so it had to be all him. Wow.

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Seto's nerves, had they any strength left, would have been tangling. As it were, they did not and so he was utterly numb. That was, until Anzu placed her hands his temples. Her fingers were soft, small, delicate and an awfully calming cool. It seemed like she knew without asking exactly where to apply the exact amounts of pressure. What was it she had said earlier? Her mother was a physical therapist? If he knew they knew how to do this, he'd have gotten one long time ago.

Anzu concentrated hard on what she was doing, scooping out the various pressure points on Seto's scalp. They were generally the same for everyone but head-shape and -size made them differ. Still, she could not ignore the fact that his skin was smooth and a tad hot to her cool hands; that his brown hair that seemed thick from a distance was even thicker up close; that it was soft and lush; that it smelt clean and slightly of Pantene Pro V; that it was just the kind of hair you could run your fingers through forever. Think about something else.

To their mutual surprise Anzu broke the silence between them.

"Rough day?" she ventured nervously. Seto opened his eyes quickly. In the few minutes that she had been working on his headache he had almost forgotten where he was and what was happening.

Anzu knew the answer to her question before Seto opened his mouth, however. She had worked her way backward from his forehead and arrived at the nape of his neck when she had put forth the question. The amount of knotted tension under his skin startled her. He really did work a lot harder than he let on.

With his voice still raspy (Anzu contributed it in her mind to his shouting on various unsuspecting employees), he answered. The response was not condescending or snappy as Anzu anticipated. In fact, it was one of the youngest things she had ever heard him say.

"Like you would never believe." By course of natural conversation Anzu found herself asking what had happened and then hurriedly adding that she did not mean to pry. Seto paused for a minute considering his options. She had given him leeway to sidestep her query and end the conversation there, however, he found himself strangely inclined to respond.

What did he have to loose by simply telling the truth? What happened to him happened to every other businessman at some point in time. It wasn't anything special. Finally, after concluding that she had no ulterior motives for asking, he replied, realising that his prolonged quietness had made her uncomfortable. Her motions had slowed - much to his displeasure.

"A contract nearly fell through. I spent all morning on damage control." He knew she could hear how irritated with that he was. He did not know that it puzzled her. If he had been facing her, he would have noticed the slight creasing of her brow at his words. She went quiet for a while as she worked out the final knot in the middle of his spine. When she was finished, she ran her fingers lightly back up to his shoulders both to make sure she hadn't missed anything and to soothe the muscles. Content with her work, she tapped him on both shoulders.

"Wait a minute," she began, her tone disbelieving, "you are the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation, have over 800 employees in three countries, over 20 executives on your Board-of-directors, and you had to do damage control on a contract? Must be a hell of an important contract."

"Microsoft," he supplied as she sat down once again. That pretty much explained it. Seto rolled his shoulders feeling the newly acquired freedom Anzu had bestowed upon them he closed his eyes for a brief second only then uncovering the fact that his headache was nonexistent. Wow.

He opened his eyes and settled them upon Anzu. Then, remembering what she had said, asked, "Where do you get your information?"

Anzu, who had been watching his effortless liquid gestures, had borne witness to his trademark smirk creeping onto his face. This time there was not, however, any underlying malice or cynicism therein. To Anzu's astonishment, he seemed amused. She was all but floored when one eyebrow had risen slowly and he had thrown his question. It wasn't so much the question or the inability to answer with a legitimate source that kept her wordless but the inability to answer - period. Sweet God, he was hot.

Not only to get hold of the desired object but also to hide from him her flush at such a thought, Anzu leaned forward and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. One on which he featured prominently along with his latest duel-disk system, his Blue Eyes White Dragon, and the caption "Seto Kaiba: The New Breed of Genius." She flashed it at him and said:

"Time magazine. Read it. You're in there…somewhere." She smiled shyly at him and was pleasantly astounded to receive a one-sided half-smirk in return. Maybe, just maybe, she might be able to do what Yugi had been trying to for so long.

Seto was surprised at himself in truth. But she had a contagious smile. He glanced around and recognized that there was something - or, more rightly, someone - missing.

"Where's Mokuba?" he asked.

"He's asleep. His karate class this morning wore him out."

Seto nodded; it was to be expected. "Has…ahem, has Mokuba given you any trouble?" he enquired. Listening to him, Anzu appreciated the fact that his voice was quieter. She cast a fleeting look at him and found that he honestly looked…diffident about pushing the conversation further. Even though he hated it, when she coupled it in her mind with what she had just seen, she comprehended on a much more real scale how much he put into his little brother's well-being. She shook her head. It wasn't fair.

"You know," she started, stopping at one of the pages of his interview where a comment caught her eye, "I was wondering about something you said in here about deck-building…"

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Surreal was one of many words drifting around in Seto Kaiba's head and he found it almost obnoxiously fitting. He was participating wholeheartedly in the conversation, listening intently but nonetheless it somehow felt rather like an out-of-body experience. Floating in ambivalence.

Ironic though it was, Seto found himself enjoying dialogue with Anzu Mazaki. Even though they had started out on the topic of Duel Monsters they had already covered a wide spectrum of other subjects. Unfortunately for Seto, they had somehow come upon the theme of Family. He sat in wait, steeling himself for the pang in his chest that would inescapably hit him when she would unthinkingly say, "And yours?"

To his disbelief, when she had finished telling him in a near astringently mordant manner of her brother-in-law's (her gikei's2, as he insisted upon being called) seizure during her older sister's indigestion during her first trimester, she did not turn and ask him to divulge his family history. A bit ashamed at his own thought, realising that he had implicitly stated that she had done so, corrected himself. Anzu had, in fact, given a dry, comprehensive summary of the Mazaki clan that Seto found appealing to his sense of humour. The only person she hadn't mentioned thus far was her mother. He was almost sure that if she were to ask him about his mother their tête-à-tête would stop there.

"I almost forgot," she said while taking a sip from her drink, which had materialized unobtrusively - compliments of the household staff, "Mom's name is Kisaki3."

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. No questions asked. He hadn't expected it. But the total ease with which she was able to circumnavigate instilled within him a new respect for the girl before him. Truly enigmatic indeed.

As she steered the their conversation to new pastures - with his help - he stared at her. Suddenly, he embarked upon a tour of Anzu, discerning the small things about her. Like the way her brows furrowed in sync when she was not particularly fond of something; the way her voice lowered when she referred to something funny - as though she was holing in a laugh; the way she always looked off to a spot just above and beyond his shoulder while she listened; the way she bit at her straw. He observed that there was a particular lock of hair that was partial to flying across her lips as she spoke.

Taking all of this in, he began to envy those hairs more than anything else on the planet.

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Anzu sat back, looking at him as he talked. The information he was divulging was superficial at best, however, it was a start. Take, for instance, the fact that she now knew that he like Reggae. Honestly, no one Earth would probably ever have accused him of that.

Seto paused and glanced at her. He had just completed explaining why he was so fond of the Caribbean beats and suddenly threw the question back at her.

"Mostly instrumental and Indian," she responded, "with some Old-school romantics for fun."

"Indian?" She had gotten accustomed to the eyebrow thing. Now, it was her turn to explain it all. The best place to start, obviously, would be Miss Singh. A few minutes later, Seto was saying:

"…Really calming would be Pure Moods - all of them. They're- "

"New Age. I have all." For a moment, they both stopped. Not looking at each other but not looking away, most probably through each other, they contemplated this new information. The hush was broken by the shrill ring of a cell phone. Anzu noted that Seto's ring-tone was Jesse Cooke's Virtue from Pure Moods 3.

"Excuse me," Seto said, flipping it open, "Yes, Ms. Ashiro?"

Anzu picked her drink back up, and sipped, trying not to listen. The fact that he was approximately two feet away did not assist her.

"No… Sell… That's ludicrous; he can't get those anywhere else… Good, have that on my desk in the morning." Just when it sounded like it was over, he frowned and listened again. "Yes… I know it's in one-and-a-half weeks… No, not yet… do we have to go through this again, Ashiro? I said I'd take care of it… No. Goodbye."

Anzu watched him shut the phone with a vengeance, or least with as much vengeance one could exact when closing a phone. He muttered under his breath and she could have sworn she heard a few words that she had not expected to be in his vocabulary. That fact that she was aware of them and that they were in her vocabulary notwithstanding.

"More work?" she inquired casually.

"Something like that…" He sipped his drink and continued, despite the fact that she had not asked. "Kaiba Corp turns thirty in one-and-a-half weeks. My secretary and the rest of my godforsaken company are of the opinion that I have to go to the gala thing they're having. I'm fine with that. It's being covered by the press; it's important to the company, I should be there. Now my secretary - I think you know her, Ashiro (?) - has been, and I quote, 'frequently requested to remind me - frequently' that I need to have a date."

He scoffed and Anzu wondered what exactly was the problem? She knew he had quiet a large fan following of the female persuasion; he shouldn't have too hard a time with something like that. And she told him that. He looked hard at her for a moment before replying.

"It's going to be boring. I'm going to hate it. I will not subject myself to anymore torture at the hands of some groping bimbo." Even she had to admit he had a point, she knew the types of girls that swooned over him. The majority was precisely as he had claimed, bimbos. The minority had much the same relationship she had had with him before Duellist Kingdom, none. Not that she had ever been one of them.

"Don't you know anyone you wouldn't mind taking?" she questioned. Without hesitation and much on obvious impulse, he blurted nonchalantly: "You probably."

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Why had he just said that? Seto was still trying to figure this out when, to his unqualified incredulity, she replied, "Why not?"

Hope unjustified rose within him. He might not have to bear it all in pain. "Would you?"

"I guess. I haven't got anything to do with the guys gone off to that trading-expo in America." He knew he should have been offended that he was being used as a distraction from total boredom but the scales were even. So was she.

"It's on the night of 28th. I'll have Ashiro fill you in on the details. I have no idea what they are…" He smirked as she nodded, smiling slightly. He was so involved and yet so detached. Sometimes he confused himself.

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"Seto, did you just get in?" Mokuba's bleary voice cut across the room and into the middle of their conversation. They looked at the nearing boy, at each other and then simultaneously at their watches. Holy Shite. Seto had gotten in at half past twelve. It was six. Five and half hours. They looked at each other again.

"I've been in a while."

"I told him you were asleep," Anzu interjected.

"Ok. Sorry to keep you here so late, Anzu." She smiled. So polite.

"'S ok. But I should get going before Mom has a fit." She stood up, excused herself and went off to grab her things. Once she was out of sight, she stretched. Seto, meanwhile, asked Mokuba what he wanted for dinner. As Mokuba chose what take-out he wanted, Seto also snuck a stretch.

When, finally, the two saw Anzu to the door where the pre-arranged car was waiting, she said goodbye to both Mokuba and Seto. Although she still called his brother 'Kaiba', Mokuba had a strong, nagging feeling that he might have missed something.

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AN: Yay! An update I can be proud of! So there. Hope you enjoyed it. A few clarifications:

1Lower School Boys - Mokuba's reference is relative to the Orient's school structure. Japanese & Korean (and maybe Chinese) High Schools are divided into two sections - Lower and Upper. The Lower section has three years (1 - 3) and the Upper has three years (1 - 3). Since their academic year ends in Spring (I think…) Mokuba is at the end of Lower 1st year while Seto, Anzu etc are at the end of Upper 2nd. The Lower High School starts at 1st Form (American: 7th grade) and the Upper High School starts at 4th Form (American: 10th grade). That explains why Seto walks into class 2-A. 'A' classes are usually the smart classes. Don't' know how Joey and Tristan got in there…

2Gekei - I checked this up online. It means 'brother-in-law' in Japanese and, more specifically, an elder brother-in-law. It's not as commonly used in fan fiction as words like 'Onii-san' and so on so I thought it would be cool to use it myself; break in a new term.

3Kisaki - This isn't very important but I thought it was interesting. Anzu's mom's name means 'empress' or 'queen'. My beta loved it when she first heard it and so did I.

Now, although this has nothing to do with this chapter, before I posted this, I re-read the other chapters to make sure it followed the pattern correctly and wasn't too off (it's been a while) and I realised that in the first chapter (and maybe the others) the phrase "some time" is always written "some times". Although this is not grammatically incorrect, it is out of context and, when used in the manner I intended, it just sounds wrong. But, because I'm a lazy-ass author, I'm not going back to fix it. I simply want to let you know that I know about this and that I know it is wrong. For some reason, it seems to suggest that English is not my first language because it is the type of mistake common to bi-lingual people. English is my first language and, for the most part, my ONLY language - unfortunately.

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