Work Text:
5:00 AM alarm. Shower. Dressed. To the private office down the hall. Check emails. Briefcase unlocked, checked, packed with essentials, and locked again. Out of the chair no later than 5:50. The acrid smell of hot coffee wafts upstairs.
Pass by Mokuba’s bedroom. Knock on the door and enter without a word. Pull the curtains wide open and spill light over the messy cave. Abode. Room. Whichever word would pop into Kaiba’s mind that morning. Shake the nest of blankets and check his clock, flicking on a warning alarm. Just in case.
Down to the kitchen by 6:00. The paper is laid out on the island, centered and folded.
He indulged for a half an hour of silence, phone turned off. No staff. No television. Nothing. The last moments of sleep lost. Peace was established. The phone was turned back on.
“Stretch your whole body. One, two and back down...”
Kaiba walked into the parlor, the television on and Mokuba up. Dressed in his uniform, school bag on the coffee table which was pushed back a few inches. Light, cheery piano music played in the background. Mokuba swung his arms, up, down. Back to the sides. Bending the knees, bouncing. Twisting. Graceful. Pliable.
“Wanna join nii-sama?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Only five minutes.”
“No,” Kaiba said. He started to turn away.
“Do it at work then? With the others?”
A sigh. Back into the kitchen. The smell of breakfast ready for Mokuba in a short time, a plate laid out. The piano music was over, and he ran into the kitchen. The plate is scooped up, scarfed down.
Out the door by 7:00.
Routine.
Every morning. Every morning. Every morning.
5:00.
5:50.
6:00.
6:30.
“Wanna join nii-sama?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Only five minutes.”
“No.”
“Do it at work then?”
7:00.
Every morning. Every morning. Every morning.
5:00.
5:50.
6:00.
6:30....
Push the coffee table back. Wait for a moment, eyes closed, television on with a peaceful little tune starting. Mokuba thundering down the stairs and dropping his bag on the floor. Looking up at his nii-sama who wasn’t looking down. Mokuba smile, straightened his back and looked forward.
A five minute routine. In an already mastered routine. Former routine. Maybe.
“I feel ridiculous.” All arms and legs, the great Kaiba Seto. Swinging, bending bouncing to a soft voice on a television. Morning callisthenics.
Mokuba chuckling and glancing up at his brother briefly. “I do, too! Isn’t it awesome!”
The laughter was infectious. The music ended, the news was flashing on. Mokuba dashed for the kitchen, like normal. No questions asked. Breakfast collected, scarfed down.
“You gonna do it again tomorrow?” Mokuba asked.
A roll of the shoulders from Kaiba. “Mm, perhaps.”
Mokuba beamed. The power of repetition. Every morning. Every morning. Every morning a try.
Routine changed.
Project complete.
Out the door by 7:00.