Hey everyone! This is just a random one shot that I wrote the other day, let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh!

Mokuba crept down the hallways of his home, making sure to stay very quiet. Something wasn't right. He had checked his calendar three times, and verified the date with several other sources. It was Thursday. No question about that fact, so Mokuba had checked every clock in the house. All of them read the same thing, 10:21 AM.

On a normal day, Mokuba would be sitting in his English class, staring out the nearest window by this time of day. However, this was not a normal day. He had come down with the flu earlier in the week, and was supposed to be on bedrest, at least, according to Seto.

But it was Seto who had him up and out of bed. While Mokuba was sick, Seto had stopped by every morning on the way to school to check on him and say good morning. But this morning, Seto hadn't come. Mokuba had just noticed this since Seto hadn't woken him up, he slept in late. And since Seto hadn't stopped by, Mokuba began to worry.

And that was the reason behind the sick boy roaming the halls of his mansion. His first stop had been Seto's office. His brother had been known to skip school on occasion because of work, and that seemed like the most obvious place to look. But once inside, Mokuba noticed that his brother was not at his desk.

Mokuba then checked the kitchen. Perhaps Seto was out of the office for a cup of coffee. It was all Seto ever drank in the mornings, and often was his only meal until dinner. Mokuba knew that his brother couldn't go a day without it.

Seto wasn't in the kitchen.

Mokuba had about decided that his brother had simply forgot about him when one more location popped into his thoughts. It was a stretch, but the black haired teen had to look.

Seto's bedroom was just across the hall from Mokuba's, so that took him back to his starting point. When he was standing in front of the doorway, he froze, listening very carefully to detect any sounds. When he heard none, he tried to knob to see if it was locked.

Upon finding that it wasn't, Mokuba walked inside.

He was surprised to find his brother lying in bed. Seto wasn't asleep, but lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't glance Mokuba's direction as he crossed the room.

Seto's alarm clock came to life. Its lights began to flash and its alarm sounded, but Seto made no move to turn it off. He just lay motionless on the bed.

Mokuba reached over to turn it off, but his brother's voice stopped him.

"Just hit snooze."

As confused as he was by the situation, Mokuba did as his brother asked. He pressed the largest button on the top and watched as the lights and alarms faded down. When they were completely silenced, Mokuba finished his journey to the bed.

Mokuba grabbed the top blanket and pulled it up just enough that he could slide underneath with Seto. Mokuba moved close and placed his head on the pillow with his brother, finding himself staring up at whatever had caught Seto's interest.

Neither spoke. Seto didn't move away from Mokuba, but he didn't move any closer. In fact, Mokuba would have thought that his brother was ignoring his presence if Seto hadn't taken his hand. But that was the only sign of recognition that Seto gave to his brother. Aside from that one small act, Seto remained as still as a sculpture.

It wasn't until the alarm clock went off again that Mokuba moved. He hit the snooze button once more, then returned to his previous position. Only this time, he spoke.

"Seto, are you sick?"

Seto shook his head, but kept his gaze trained on the ceiling. Mokuba did notice, however, that the grip on his hand grew somewhat tighter.

"Why don't you let me turn off the alarm clock? You could just go back to sleep," Mokuba stated, switching his sights to Seto.

Seto didn't look well. He lied frequently about being ill, and Mokuba assumed that this was just another one of those times. But there was something in the way he stared blankly ahead that made Mokuba think that there might be more to his change in behavior.

"I can't turn it off," Seto answered.

"Why?"

Seto's eyes fell closed, as if that was the one question he didn't want to be asked. But he responded, "I keep telling myself that I just need ten more minutes. Just ten more and I'll be ready to face the day." He paused, opening his eyes before adding, "Just ten more."

Mokuba didn't answer. He had never seen Seto in this sort of a mood before. It was frightening to see his brother seem so devoid of emotions. He wasn't angry or sad, mad or upset; he was just, blank.

"Do you know what today is?" Seto asked.

Mokuba recalled his searching of the calendars just minutes ago. "Thursday, the eleventh."

Seto nodded. "The eleventh. Five years exactly."

Mokuba racked his memories for what importance that could hold for his brother. The date didn't bring up anything, but the five years comment did.

"Since we were adopted?" he asked hesitantly.

Their adoption was a sore subject with the elder Kaiba. Anything in relation to their past or Gozaburo often brought Seto down to where he would close up for hours at a time. Mokuba was worried that if he was wrong in his assumption, it would only further serve to drive Seto into this mood.

"Five years to the day. But do you know what else today is?"

Mokuba couldn't think of anything else. Dates flooded through his mind, but none of which matched the one in question. So he answered honestly. "No."

"I thought, foolish as it was, I had thought that the adoption was destiny. I was twelve, so I didn't know better at the time, but it seemed so perfect. He came on that day, on the eleventh, and I took it as a sign that we were meant to be adopted by him," Seto began.

Mokuba started to ask what he meant, but then decided to stay quiet. Seto was clearly planning on explaining his words, and Mokuba needed to give him time.

"If I had known what would happen, I would have taken today as a curse and not as a blessing. There were other families at the orphanage home that day, but I only saw Gozaburo. He could provide a home for you that none of the other families could. That was all I was focused on."

Seto adjusted his position very slightly. The movement was fast, but Mokuba took it as a good sign. Mokuba placed his chin against Seto's shoulder so he could better watch his face as he spoke.

"But I was wrong, so very, very wrong. I barely recall what went through my mind that day other than getting you out of that home and into a new one. A better one. And I thought the date was a sign, so I took a risk. It was a mindless gamble that didn't pay off."

Mokuba squeezed Seto's hand when he saw the beginnings of tears form in his eyes. Seto didn't cry. Mokuba couldn't remember a time in the past five years that he had seen his brother come close to spilling tears. Seto was too proud to let his brother see him so weak. And Mokuba knew that something was terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry Mokuba," Seto said, finally turning to look his brother in the eye. The expression inside was deep. Mokuba had never seen the likes of it. It was Seto without any of the masks and façades. Mokuba hadn't known this side of his brother since their time in the orphanage home years ago.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because I made a mistake. A choice that was based off of only a date imprinted on my mind."

"Seto, I don't know what you mean," Mokuba whispered quietly.

Seto opened his mouth to answer, but closed it immediately. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, as if holding back the words that were originally going to be spoken.

It took him a moment, but Seto was finally able to respond.

"November eleventh was the day that Dad died." His voice cracked as he spoke the words.

Mokuba was then the one who couldn't find the words to say. He had no memories of his father, since he was only five at the time of his death. That wasn't to say that he didn't feel the loss of both of his parents; he felt that pain daily. But in a way, Mokuba was glad that he didn't have the memories. Knowing his parents, being witness to the love that they certainly had for their children, that would only make the pain greater. Not knowing fit with Mokuba, but that couldn't be said for his brother.

Seto had told Mokuba that he had very few memories of his mother since she had died giving birth to Mokuba. Seto was five at that time, but he was ten at the time of his father's death. By ten, he had developed a relationship that had been shattered all too soon. Seto had gotten to know, love, and be loved by his father. And that had been torn from him.

Then his father figure had been replaced with Gozaburo. Seto had done his best to keep Mokuba from learning all that Gozaburo had done to him, but every now and then, Seto slipped. And from what Mokuba had learned, Seto had been severely abused by the cruel business man.

And now, for the first time, Mokuba was seeing exactly how Seto saw his situation. He was placing all of the blame on himself.

"Seto, I can't imagine what you are feeling right now. But I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You might be the smartest teenager in the world, but no amount of knowledge can allow you to predict the future. You did what you felt was best for the both of us," Mokuba said.

When Seto didn't respond immediately, Mokuba added, "I'm so sorry he did those things to you."

"Don't be sorry."

"Then you can't be either," Mokuba said. He moved his arms to where he was hugging Seto. And he smiled when he felt the hug returned.

"So what do you want to do today?" Mokuba asked once he and Seto had pulled apart from the brief embrace.

"Sleep," Seto answered, a small laugh finding it's way into his word.

The alarm clock began to buzz once more, and both Seto and Mokuba reached for it. In one single motion, they pulled the plug from the wall. The glowing numbers immediately disappeared as the clock turned off.