A Christmas Carol with Kaiba

A Snow White Dawn

There came a painful thump in the darkness and Seto found his hands, which were once pressing against the constricting darkness, pressed against the satin cloth of his sheets. Through them he could just make out the sunlight from his bedroom and a distinct chill that told him his window had been left open.

Heart thudding, face flushed, he untied himself out of his sheets and blankets to stare with childlike wonder at the white winter sunlight pouring into his room. Besides him, the digital clock said seven thirty-three. He had slept in. Some habitual part of his mind told him he was late for work, but he ignored it as he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the open window, skin bursting with goose bumps. Outside the world glowed with white icing. He had his hands on the window sides for a full few minutes before he realized the painful smile that had broken across his face and closed the window.

"Look at me," he muttered, "you'd think I'd burst out singing like some corny Disney rerun."

But no, that couldn't be the case. He was Kaiba, Seto Kaiba, he was late for work.

And for the first time that he could remember in a long time, he didn't care.

Tearing out the first thing he saw in his closet that wasn't a suit or garishly mismatched, he changed, brushed his teeth with a foaming fervor, and strode out into the hall where he ran into his brother, who stopped rubbing his eyes to stare.

"Seto? What are you doing here?"

"Call up a car."

"What?"

"Scratch that, I'll drive myself. You coming?"

"Coming?" Mokuba blinked hard. "Nuh uh, I've spent enough time in the mothership. I got plans with Kristy."

Seto flinched. Kristy. That had been the name in his dream thing too. Had it been a dream? Well, there was one way to tell.

"Why didn't you tell me you were thinking of proposing to her today?"

Mokuba flinched back so hard, he nearly crashed into the doorway, eyes wide. In that instant the past ten years vanished and he was his ten year old little brother caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The next minute he was eighteen again, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Who told you?"

Seto smirked. "Call her up for dinner first. Honestly, thinking you can get a girl to marry you without even introducing her to your brother, I'm hurt. What's her favorite food? Pass it along to the kitchen, we'll have that tonight." he walked past him, inwardly pleased at the flabbergasted look on his brother's face. "Oh, and we'll be needing a tree. If you're not coming with me, do you think Kristy would mind helping you get the house decked out for tonight?"

"Decked out?" asked Mokuba, as though about to faint.

"You know, tinsel, holly, that sparkly crap that makes a mess on the floor-the usual Christmas stuff."

"No. Not at all. She's been wanting to see where I live for a while now."

Seto was half-way down the stairs, calculating in his head what he would do first, when Mokuba caught up to him.

"Wait!"

Seto turned expectantly. His brother wore a strange look on his face, as though he had just see Big Foot walk through his front door. On meeting Seto's eye, his awestruck surprise increased.

"Wh-what happened?"

Seto shrugged, putting a hand on the railing. He didn't move, as his brother didn't seem to be finished yet. He lifted a finger to his chin, dark eyes confused.

"You're not going to work...are you?"

Seto just smiled, said, "Tell the kitchen to have dinner ready by five, sharp. I'll see you then," and continued down the steps. In the mud room he stared at the knob that, just the night before, had twisted into the garish face of his step father as he threw on his usual trench coat and a scarf. He almost forgot to put on his boots in his rush to the door. His heart pounded in an excitement that he hadn't felt since the last time he had dueled with Yugi. The kid always had a way of bringing out the best of him. He came up with strategies and thought in ways he had never even dreamed of until faced with the challenge Yugi always presented to him. Some of his greatest inspirations came from his desire to compete against the boy, and yet Yugi had never held his victories over Kaiba's head. Rather, he had respected him, seen him as a friend. How had he ignored him so blatantly over these years? Sure he hadn't trusted him, sure he had thought his friendship meaningless, but how could he have been so blind? Hadn't he seen the ferocity of Yugi's loyalty to his other friends? Seen the power it lent him?

Seto slid into his favorite, sleek silver-blue Porsche and slid out of the garage, hands shaking. He would see to Yugi, but there was someone else who needed him first.