VI

Kaiba had a fairly good idea of where Mokuba might have gone, and upon entering that hallway, the faint sounds resonating from the game room confirmed his guess. He opened the door and found his little brother glaring at the large screen in the far end, furiously mashing the buttons on his controller.

"Mokuba."

The game was obnoxiously loud, the volume obviously cranked to max.

"Mokuba!"

Mokuba tossed the controller on the rug and begrudgingly paused the game, now glaring at his Nii-sama. Kaiba folded his arms over his chest.

"Your words were uncalled for, Mokuba," he said, eyes unwavering.

"I don't care!" snapped his little brother. "I told you not to do this, I begged you a million times not to do it, Nii-sama!"

"I listened to everything you had to say and arranged for conditioning and modifications accordingly."

"You shouldn't have made him at all! It was stupid and selfish and wrong!"

"Enough!" cried Kaiba, his voice echoing in the vast space between them. Mokuba tensed his shoulders. "I had seen the future, I realized the opportunity and I took it! The core invention of this medical team alone was worth granting them funds to continue research – the cell growth gel and laser accelerator they have created could revolutionize medicine! Kaiba Corporation is a gaming company but all technology leading to a better future must be endorsed and supported. Hanji promised me that entire functioning organisms could be cultivated with this invention, that in return for allocating facilities and funds to this research, the first successfully crafted human clone would be my prize, something nobody else in the world has. He is mine, Mokuba, and while he is here, I want you to at least tolerate his existence because he is Kaiba Corporation's best chance to reach new heights. I have yielded to every other scruple you had. None of us can yield any further."

Mokuba clenched his jaw, snatching up the controller again.

"I don't trust him," he growled. "Keep him far away from me!"

"Your attitude alone will keep him far away from you," said Kaiba, just as displeased with the interview as Mokuba. His little brother whipped his head sharply away from him and returned to his game, determined not to show hurt. The soundtrack was once again blasting at painful heights and Kaiba closed the door, slamming it shut with more force than was necessary. After some hesitation, his next stop was his home office to make a phone call.

"Hanji? Kaiba."

"Kaiba-sama!" came Hanji's voice, pleasantly surprised and eager as ever. "How is he?"

"Hanji, I have a question for you. Is it normal for a clone to experience human emotion?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"I see no reason why not," came Hanji's reply, followed by a light snap that must have been them adjusting their goggles. "What happened?"

"He has met my brother and Mokuba seems to have upset him. He.. There were tears in his eyes."

"He cried?!" Hanji's voice was almost a shriek. "Wonderful! He did not wipe his eyes, did he?"

"I don't—"

"Of course he didn't, I conditioned him well! I bet he just let his tears pour down, he can't do anything else about it. It is logical that he should experience human emotion, Kaiba-sama – he has a human body after all, human nerves, human hormones. I did not expect him to adapt so quickly, but I should have known all the information we had given him would work in his favor. He's processing everything in perspective just like an experienced adult should be."

"So you're saying it is natural for an artificially created replica to feel upset and cry."

"Why not? Did you expect him to be like a robot, Kaiba-sama?"

"…No, I did not."

"There you go then: he's simply being human. Be sure to keep me updated on him."

"I will. …Thank you."

And with that, Kaiba hung up, his hand clenching into a helpless fist. What did he expect? He was ashamed to admit that he had anticipated a live mannequin instead of a human being – it would have been convenient for Kaiba to work with a blank template, to endow his clone with proper manners, proper feelings perfectly calibrated for his purposes. Instead Seto was human, and apparently a sensitive one, too.

Kaiba sank into his chair and closed his eyes, hands clasping on the armrests for support. He would have to face him sooner or later, but not now, not yet. He did not want to see Seto cry.

In the meantime, Isono was at pains to hold, comfort and reason Seto into calming down. The clone was taller than him and all but slumped against him, hands clutching his suit in the back as his tears rained down the fabric, and there was nothing Isono could do but rub Seto's quaking back, to squeeze him and pat his shoulders in experimental ways, hoping that something would eventually work. None of these actions produced results by themselves, of course, but a repeated combination of them had succeeded at last. Seto gradually became still and quiet until all tension dissolved except for the tight grasp of his hands. Isono gave his back one more firm rub and cleared his throat.

"If you let go, Sir, I will make you some tea," he said, easing his hold. Seto's hands curled tighter around the folds.

"Do I like tea?" he asked, his voice trembling. Isono blinked.

"If you do not like tea, Sir, I will not rest until I get you something you do like."

That seemed to convince Seto; his hands loosened and withdrew rather clumsily from the tormented folds of Isono's jacket. He straightened and hung his head. His face was wet.

"Sir…" Isono reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. "May I, Sir?"

"You mustn't touch my eyes," replied Seto at once. Isono nodded and reached up to cup the clone's chin firmly and dab his cheeks dry, keeping away from his lashes. Seto's hands were hovering below, ever ready to push him away if he got too close. Thankfully, he did not have to.

Isono's original plan had been to give the clone a tour of the apartment from the full bathroom and large built-in closet to the home office in one corner and the kitchenette installed in the other, but by now, he was quite content to just seat Seto by the small table in the kitchenette while he scoured the cupboards and drawers for tea. He and Fugata spent the whole of yesterday shopping for food and last minute necessities; Seto's pantry was certainly not wanting in any respects. The electric kettle he had bought on the allotted budget was filled with water and whistled steam as Isono set out two mugs (deciding, very rightfully, that he might deserve some tea himself) and prepared a handsome tray with slices of lemon and lumps of sugar in a bowl, gleaming teaspoons and tongs and some napkins. He even managed to find a packet of individually wrapped tea biscuits to complete his display and was, all things considered, proud of himself for managing so well.

Seto was too preoccupied at first to take any interest in Isono's preparations. However, once the tray was placed in front of him, obviously made with care and effort for his sake, he relented and reached for the mug. Warmth spread into his fingers and his other hand came to cradle the mug, glad for that soft, delicious ooze of heat.

"It is very hot, Sir," said Isono, making a show of blowing at his own tea to cool it. Seto mimicked him, mesmerized by the rising steam, and took a sip. He was not sure what he expected, but tea seemed very strong, rich and even bitter. The face he made coaxed a chuckle out of Isono. "Try putting some lemon or sugar in it, Sir – or both."

Seto took the advice and plucked up a slice of lemon, letting it sink into his tea. He sent a lump of sugar after it, giving it a whirl with his spoon, and tried again. It tasted a bit sweeter, but he still found little pleasure in it beyond its warmth. He set it down, hoping it would somehow improve the longer it stood, and picked up the biscuit. Unwrapping it was tricky for inexperienced fingers, but the taste, oh, the taste was worth it. He nibbled it carefully, sparingly, with so much gusto that Isono kindly parted with his own biscuit for his sake. Seto was almost disappointed when no more biscuits followed. He took a few more sips of tea and then seemed done, still unsure if he particularly liked it.

"How are you feeling, Sir?" asked Isono when it became clear that Seto wanted no more.

"…Tired," replied Seto, fishing the word from his data bank.

"Would you like to lie down and rest, Sir?" The answer was yes.

The bed was rather out of place compared to the sensible moderation of surrounding furniture – vast, looming and austere, its canopies tightly drawn to their pillars as though using them should be out of the question. Everything else about it, however, seemed to invite and promise comfort: fresh bed sheets, large pillows, fluffy blankets. Isono pulled the latter back to make a large opening and Seto scooted into that space, legs drawn close to his body and shoes dangling over the edge. Isono untied them and pulled them off Seto's feet. The blankets were draped over him.

"Is it safe?" asked Seto, eyes darting to the door. Isono sighed.

"I will stay with you, Sir," he replied. Seto nodded against the pillow.

There was a moment of relapse as the memory flushed over him again, drawing more tears from his eyes, but there was little sound to accompany them this time. It was the tired wretchedness of an aching heart that had no more strength to give its sorrow full form, and Seto let his pain glide down his nose and seep into the pillow beneath. He closed his eyes and in a few minutes, he nodded off in momentary escape, tears still beading on his lashes.

Isono sat with him for a while simply watching over him, then treated himself to a small paperback from some large inner pocket of his jacket, fingers in search of the dog-eared page he was on. He was just within half a page of the next chapter when there was a small knock and in came Kaiba, letting the door click softly behind him. Isono stood and bowed, hands quickly tucked behind his back to hide the paperback.

"Seto-sama."

"Hn." Kaiba's eyes drifted to Seto, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes, his wet lashes, the melancholy arch of his lips. He shot a glance at Isono and then at the tell-tale tray in the kitchenette.

"He felt tired so I let him rest, Sir," explained Isono. Kaiba nodded and paused, fixing his eyes on his clone again.

"Don't coddle him too much, Isono," he said at last, his voice low. "If you let him grow soft, he will be useless to me."

Isono was about to argue but Kaiba shot him a look that locked him into silent indignation.

"The world is a cruel place, Isono. Homo homini lupus est. If we want what's best for him, we will have to sever his weaknesses one by one."

"…Yes, Sir."