Rock Bottom: Season Zero

Prologue

Season Zero: Millennium what-now?

Seto held Mokuba tightly in his arms, his hands clamped over the child's ears as Mokuba squeezed his eyes shut, willing away their present reality. As they huddled together in the corner of their small closet, the doors as closed as he could make them, Seto tried to mentally block out the sound of his father's drunken tirade as he pounded his fists on the door to their bedroom. Their father had never been the same after their mom died, and he was a hardcore alcoholic by now. He couldn't hold down a job for more than a month, but Seto gave him a bit credit for trying. Still, this wasn't a great situation for them to be in. His father drained their money by spending it on booze so that he could get wasted when he got off of work, and it was only the fact that Seto worked and put all his money into supporting them that kept them paying the rent on time. As their father cursed, Seto kissed the top of Mokuba's head and held him even more tightly, closing his own eyes as he waited for the alcohol-induced rage to come to an end.

When it finally did and their father stumbled clumsily away to his own bedroom, Seto gently released Mokuba and pushed the folding closet door open. He lifted his trembling little brother in his arms and carried him to the twin bed they shared, tucking the child in before joining him and putting an arm around his small form.

"Is it really over?" the raven-haired child whispered, eyes wide with fear.

"Yes, Mokuba, it's over," he whispered reassuringly. "Now go to sleep. You know I'll always keep you safe." After maybe fifteen minutes, the smaller child had finally slipped into full sleep. Seto couldn't sleep, however. He was too worried, despite how tired he was. It was difficult to balance work, high school, paying rent, and taking care of his brother. At least he was able to save scraps of his father's paycheck for buying food and other necessities. If his father had been spending the entirety of his paychecks on booze, Seto would need to get a full-time job and probably drop out of high school. As much as he hated the idea of dropping out—he did have plans for his future after all—he'd drop out it if it became necessary to secure Mokuba's wellbeing.

There were other things he could do for money if he really needed to, of course, and if he were a less scrupulous person: he could charge dumb jocks for doing their homework so they could pass their classes and stay on their teams; he could become a thief or a pickpocket; he could sell drugs out of his locker or on the street; he could even—he shuddered to think of it—sell himself. If he were desperate and lacked all sense of honor, he could do those things, and he probably would do those things if it became necessary for keeping himself and Mokuba alive. However, he did have a sense of honor and self-respect, and he did intend to teach those things to his little brother. He intended to teach his brother to accept nothing but the best from himself, just like Seto.

Only the most extreme circumstances could force him to abandon his sense of self-respect or tempt him into such unsavory employ. Reminders of that lifestyle surrounded him; they couldn't afford to live anywhere else and resided in the scummiest corner of Domino City, which meant that there were call-girls and crack-heads down every alley and on every corner. It was why he never let Mokuba go anywhere alone, and why he never let him go out at night unless it was absolutely necessary. He always told himself that breaking the law absolute rock bottom, and as long as he didn't sink that low, there was still a chance for him to have a good future.

Perhaps some people would think that he was missing out on things, like the supposed joys of friends, family, and youth. He would scoff at anybody who tried to tell him so.

He didn't need friends to distract him. He preferred keeping his life private; it wasn't anybody else's business that he was the primary caregiver for his small, broken family or that his father was a hopeless alcoholic.

As for youth, there was one game that Seto was fixated with: Duel Monsters. He scrounged together what loose change he could and set it aside for the purpose of buying more cards. He was good at the game, excellent at concocting devastating strategies. His main problem was acquiring the cards he needed to make the strategies work. He used his cleverness to trade up, though; he found people with cards that he wanted who valued his current cards more than he did. Then he would repeat the process indefinitely until he'd traded up the chain pretty far, far enough that he could feel confident he'd been wise to take the time to trade up instead of wasting money by buying the card directly. His goal was to assemble a power deck of rare cards, a deck that was invincible and unstoppable. It didn't discourage him that it would take months, maybe even years, for him to achieve this.

As for family, he enjoyed Mokuba's company enough to make up for all the other family he lacked. To say that he lived for his little brother would be an understatement; in their own ways, they adored each other. Seto knew that if his father ever got reported to child services, he and his brother would be taken away and put into the foster care system, probably getting separated in the process. If he could just keep this up until he was eighteen, they'd be in the clear. Then he could claim guardianship of his brother and they could move out of the apartment they shared with their father to somewhere safer. He'd vowed to always protect Mokuba, and there was nothing in the world that would stop him from doing so. Neither heaven nor hell could keep Seto from his brother, especially if Mokuba was in danger.

Four months later, Seto was picking his clothes up off the floor, dressing hurriedly as an envelope of cash was tossed onto the floor in front of him. He snatched it up as well, keeping his eyes down as sickening shame flooded his bruised, bony body.

"Hurry up and get out, you mutt," said the tall, broad man who'd tossed him the envelope as he lit himself a new cigar. "Same time and place next week."

Seto bowed his head, biting back the angry outburst that burned within his mind and instead yanked off the dog collar around his neck to toss it on the floor. "Yes, Master Kaiba."