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Appearance mattered.
This, before all else, was what he learned from his father. First impressions were everything.
This lesson was imprinted, ingrained in his childhood, but it was not until his teens that he also learned there was a hefty fault in his education. Siegfried could never bring himself to think ill of his father, for he was a man who had toiled, had struggled, had worked himself to the point of madness, but he had become too well aware that the source of that madness lied in outdated business practices. His father was too much like a cog in a machine, too fixated on roles and regulation, too intent on where things should have been and how they should have worked instead of paying attention to what truly was.
Siegfried would not repeat this pattern. For the sake of his company, his surname, his family, he would not fail when he took the helm.
His father was broken by the shadows cast by Gozaburo Kaiba, desperately chasing a monster's heels while he clung to old ideals and fixed habits, resting on laurels that had long since depleted. It was in this, Siegfried also learned an important lesson: success lied in the future.
Rather, it was all right there in the present.
It was not to the East that Siegfried saw the answer, but to the West, where an entirely new breed of businessman emerged. Pegasus J. Crawford had not only entered the ruthless fray, but he made good by his name and overtook the market in one fell swoop, crushing all opposition like a dark horse. In the matter of a year, Industrial Illusions went from a small entrepreneurial start up to a full blown Fortune 500 company—making a game of all things!
Siegfried almost couldn't believe this overnight sensation. It denied convention. It defied logic. It spat at reason. It was like nothing he had ever heard of, had ever seen before. Siegfried knew then, as he had carefully torn the pages out of Forbes and preserved the articles and photographs (for research purposes, he assured his mother when she found the scrapbook some years later), it was indisputable.
Pegasus was the model to follow.
Siegfried swore, under his hand, the blood and fire that stained the von Schroeder empire would give way to something brighter, something better, something that didn't spread misery and make a mockery of the pristine rose that decorated the shields in his household. Perhaps then, when he dusted the ashes off his company and cultivated the new life, the sins of his forefathers would be forgiven by the Fates, they would smile upon his name, reach out to deal him a good hand, and maybe his father would recover.
Unfortunately, the Fates were not in the habit of being kind. He was convinced Kaiba Corporation's timing was more than coincidental. What other weapons manufacturing company in the world would make the declaration to transition into gaming on the very day he decided to make that leap? None other than Kaiba, that's what! Fifteen years old, and Siegfried nearly had a stroke!
… but he assured himself, it was minor upset, a trite inconvenience.
Until it wasn't.
But that would change soon, Siegfried swore to himself as he tapped his note cards on the buffet table into an impeccable stack before stowing them away in the inner chest pocket of his suit. All his follies and the shame of the Grand Prix would be left behind after today. For today was the day he would show Pegasus the fruits of his labors, proof that Industrial Illusion's recent partnership with Schroeder Corporation was a wise investment.
His company was one of the flagship sponsors for the International Tech Exposition in Berlin. It was the prime opportunity to show off Schroeder Corporation's latest endeavor, an intensive collaboration with BMW Motarrad to bring forth the most radical transformation to existing holographic platforms: a motorcycle specifically geared towards enhancing the experience of playing Duel Monsters, creating a revolutionary mode of gameplay the world had not thought possible. The Synchro-Cycle was just the thing that would land Siegfried in Pegasus' good graces, once and for all. He couldn't mess this up!
He pulled at the cuffs of his suit before smoothing his hands across the dark lapels, yet another thing he was mindful about.
He remembered reading in an issue of Gentleman's Quarterly that Pegasus had a favored tailor in Las Vegas, a Parisian man who undertook a rigorous apprenticeship in Milan and touted religious attention to stitch work that was expected of a French designer. After stowing the article away and scouring the internet for hours, Siegfried had found that one of the apprentices of Pegasus' tailor, an ambitious young American from Tomahawk, Wisconsin, had worked for a variety of haute couture shops throughout western Europe before he settled down to start a family and open his own business in Cologne. The preferred tailor of Siegfried's father, a firm, stocky gentleman who had worked a great sum of years under Hugo Boss before he “retired” to open his own shop in Munich, was outraged when Siegfried commissioned his suits to an American expat after taking over Schroeder Corporation.
But it mattered.
While passionate about the subject, Siegfried was not a fashion expert, but he knew well enough of what to ask for, and he also knew when a true professional could complete the narrow gaps.
Siegfried knew that Pegasus preferred the tapered cut of an Italian styled suit with a structured silhouette and a double-breasted jacket that accentuated his height. Siegfried also requested an Italian cut for himself, but he preferred a lighter, fitted silhouette with a single breasted jacket to accentuate his slimmer frame. Both Pegasus and himself opted for a single vent in the back of the jacket, but their lapels differed in that Pegasus donned a strong, sharp, peak design while Siegfried requested his own bear the smooth, swooping curves of a shawl style.
Pegasus was a man who had everything, no need of anything extra, so he had no visible pockets on his person; Siegfried aspired to this standard, so he, too, omitted the option. However, the young German was well aware his own suits were based off a tuxedo (for Siegfried was always prepared for a big event), so he thought it only appropriate to have a button hole on the left lapel with a latch to secure the stem of a flower. Ideally, it was intended for a rose, and if one was not available, then his family's insignia would always rest over his heart.
Siegfried also paid attention to what lied beneath the suit—clothing, not flesh, though he momentarily wondered how much sunlight Pegasus had really gotten when a paparazzi had snapped a photo on a high-profile nude beach in a copy of Esquire some months back. The pink-haired man had felt an odd mixture of anguish and relief when he assessed there was no need to add a rotation of squats to his health regimen.
With a brief blush, Siegfried composed himself and rolled the fabric of his dress shirt between his fingers. Even the most cursory photograph revealed that Pegasus had a preference for ruffle blouses, but Siegfried thought the presence of a string tie would look out-of-place on a European. So Siegfried opted for something that emphasized frills at the wrists while he sported a jabot and brooch. He ensured nothing would be exact, but he knew a man with Pegasus' sharp eye would notice the fine details.
If Siegfried could just get his attention first...
He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his hidden note cards. He could emulate the cosmetics and clothing, but it all meant nothing if he couldn't emulate Pegasus' surefooted confidence and unbridled genius. He had to make a good impression today. He needed to summon that strength, that determined will if he was going to succeed.
Siegfried furrowed his brow as a familiar and entirely unwelcome feeling wrenched his stomach.
But what if his efforts backfired? What if Pegasus thought his idea was ludicrous? Or worse, what if Pegasus thought their alliance was a waste of time and money? What if he would be unimpressed, or outright loathed the Synchro-Cycle? Would he terminate their partnership? Would he—
“You should not be so tense, Herr von Schroeder. It is ill-suited of a host to look so wary at his own event.”
Siegfried startled with a blink at the sound, a gentle tone spoken in precise, punctuated German that pierced the tension in his head and settled his fretting mind. He looked to his left, from where the soothing voice had come, and an ethereal dichotomy of chaos and peace swept through his senses as he beheld the sight before him.
The dull hum and background noise of the other attendees in the room faded to silence as the woman regarded him with a thoughtful air while she reached for a plate at the buffet table. Her azure gaze shimmered with a warmth that spread from his eyes to his cheeks, and a delicate, copper hand brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, revealing several bands of gold beneath the silky tresses. He noted the sharp glint of light coming off her bracelets and the brilliant emerald at her forehead, a lovely complement to the white of her dress and the glowing tan of her skin.
She was marvelous, and Siegfried couldn't find any words with which to respond. He nearly lost all feeling in his mouth when he saw her smile and knit her brow.
“I apologize. Did I miss something in translation?” she asked in English, taking his response for confusion. “I confess I am not fluent in German. Aside from discussion with my associates at the Egyptian Museum, I do not speak the language often.”
“Ah... N-nein—No,” Siegfried stammered, somehow amazed with himself for finding a sense of coherency in an alternate tongue. “No, nothing was lost in translation. Your German was—”
Exquisite.
“Very good,” Siegfried said. “I was just not aware my....”
Nervousness.
“Disquieted state was so apparent.”
“Stage fright?” she asked, glancing at him through the corner of her eye. She assessed the spread before her and seemed perturbed by the abundance of meat dishes, honing in on the rye bread and placing two slices on her plate.
“Something like that,” Siegfried sighed, though he was not sure if the sudden breathlessness was due to stress or... something else.
“I do not think it is warranted,” the mystery woman assured him, selecting a beet appetizer and adding it to her serving. “Pegasus is very excited to see what Schroeder Corporation is going to unveil.”
Siegfried gasped.
“Pegasus said that?!”
She rose a brow with a tight smile at the tone, and he realized he had leaned in an iota too close in excitement. He quickly regained his posture and coughed into his hand, self-consciously sliding his other hand over his jabot.
“I—Herr Crawford is intrigued with my work?”
The woman hummed and her smiled broadened in affirmation, adding a selection of cheeses to her plate.
“You... I take it you know Herr Crawford to share such information?” Siegfried asked cautiously.
“We have been acquainted for some time, yes,” she said, spoken in a manner as though she thought the response clever. She picked a cluster of red grapes off a platter and placed it next to her vegetarian spread. Before Siegfried could think of a reply, she turned her back to the table and regarded him with another small, collected smile and a subtle tilt of her head.
“Life is a fickle thing, Herr von Schroeder. Our time is finite, and it should not be wasted on worrying about uncertainties. We should all enjoy ourselves while we can.”
“I... O-of course,” Siegfried stuttered. “Thank you for your kind words, Frau... lein?”
Please, please be a Fraulein.
“Ishtar,” she replied simply, warmly, and the tone lingered on Siegfried's ears.
“Fraulein Ishtar,” Siegfried sighed. Where did he hear that name before? It sounded oddly familiar...
Isis raised her brows in acknowledgment once more, but said nothing and walked away with a full plate in hand. She disappeared into the thronging multitude of expo attendees with premium badges, and Siegfried raised his hand, whether to wave her goodbye or to reach out and call her back, he was not wholly certain. He looked down and saw that he was trembling, and he placed his fingers to his face to find his cheeks were hot to the touch. Had he been blushing throughout the brief exchange?
Oh no.
Siegfried took several deep breaths to gather his resolve and his wits, chastising himself for his poor manners. He wasn't due to give his presentation on the Synchro-Cycle for another hour. Perhaps he could find Fraulein Ishtar again, make a better impression, and show he was capable of more enticing conversation beyond one sentence at a time.
He lowered his right hand to his left lapel and gasped, appalled and ashamed when he remembered he didn't bring a boutonniere.
Damn, of all the times he didn't have a rose!
“Don't even try with that one,” came an annoyed voice to his left. “I know you're a glutton for punishment, but show some restraint.”
The feeling of floating left Siegfried's head and was replaced with a primeval sense of loathing. He already knew from the voice, but one glance at the white suit and navy blue tie made it clear who had just spoken to him.
“Herr Kaiba,” Siegfried acknowledged. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“You're standing in front of the food.”
Siegfried supposed that was a logical answer, but he did not give his business rival any face.
“I hardly think it is rude to stand in front of a table at an event sponsored by my company,” Siegfried stated with a rigid, regal posture.
“And mine,” Seto shot back, reaching for a plate with a fixed intention on the meatballs, “and you are being rude. Anyone in this room could observe you were undressing her with your eyes.”
Siegfried balked at the accusation, and Seto bore his teeth in agitation.
“Of course he had to invite that woman to this,” Seto huffed under his breath. “How annoying.”
Siegfried's interest was piqued at the hushed statement. So not only was Fraulein Ishtar well-spoken and stunning, but she also seemed to be a thorn in Herr Kaiba's side.
Well, well, this woman was growing more intriguing by the second. Yet Siegfried couldn't pinpoint exactly why her name held an air of familiarity, or why her face gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling of déjà vu. Just where had he—
He gasped with the dawning realization.
The footage from Battle City! That's where he recognized her! She was the woman who had Herr Kaiba dancing in the palm of her hand during the quarter finals!
Oh, how Siegfried's heart had soared during that live broadcast, watching Seto Kaiba have a nervous breakdown when she revealed her sinister trap card. The German had nearly gone blue in the face with laughter when his sworn rival had what appeared to be a coronary attack.
Siegfried had adored everything about that match: Seto Kaiba's irritation from waiting for Fraulein Ishtar to arrive (for Siegfried understood the appeal of a fashionably late entrance), to her musing on the futility of fighting one's destiny (for Siegfried understood the capricious nature of fate), to Seto Kaiba's horrific reaction to her brilliant strategy (for Siegfried understood the importance of paying tribute to the graveyard).
What a shame it was, to see Seto Kaiba claim victory after all that. Supposedly, there had been more to the match's mechanisms, and there was a strange burst of light to the corner of the screen before Herr Kaiba sacrificed his Egyptian God to summon the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, but whomever was in charge of the audio didn't cover the speakers with the proper sound shield and most of what had been said throughout the duel was distorted by buffeting from the wind.
Regardless, Siegfried had commended her back then, to keep Seto Kaiba at the edge of his wits and accept her loss with grace. With that in mind, Siegfried had no doubt that when he found Fraulein Ishtar again, he could carry the next conversation with more thoughtful intention and worthwhile topics of interest.
Seto rolled his eyes at the sight. Not only had the pink-haired businessman chuckled beneath his hand, but Siegfried also had that ridiculous grin on his face when he thought he was being cunning.
“You really are a glutton for pain,” Seto said, unamused as he placed several German meatballs and an onion tart on his plate. “You don't stand a ghost of a chance with that woman.”
Siegfried frowned and lowered his hand with narrowed eyes.
“Why do you say that?”
Seto Kaiba pointed into the crowd over his shoulder with a toothpick as he contemplated whether or not to have a slice of pumpernickel bread.
“Why don't you look for yourself?”
With a skeptical glance, Siegfried turned his attention to the general direction where Seto was pointing. His eyes brightened when he saw Fraulein Ishtar standing beside one of the bronze sculptures of a rearing horse next to the main stage, half-heartedly focused on her plate and nibbling on an appetizer. Siegfried subconsciously adjusted his brooch and preened himself, a motion that had Seto Kaiba curling his lip in disgust. Siegfried stepped forward.
“I said 'look',” Seto spoke sharply, stabbing at another meatball and putting it on his plate. Siegfried glared at the order, sorely tempted to defy it out of spite, but his eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat when a flash of red and white entered his vision.
Pegasus!
The American grinned mischievously as he poked his head from the back of the statue, his silver hair shifting lightly at his shoulders before he stepped sideways to stand directly behind Fraulein Ishtar, who seemed to be unaware of his towering presence. He reached out with his fingers and tapped her right shoulder, and she looked in that direction with mild vexation. Pegasus then moved so he was out of her line of sight and leaned to her left, reaching forward with his other hand to snatch a morsel off her plate.
How bold! Siegfried thought, viewing the spectacle with a parted jaw. However, it seemed Fraulein Ishtar was not as oblivious as he surmised and pushed her plate away from Pegasus' hand as she turned her head to face him.
“No,” Siegfried saw her say, and Pegasus returned the little cocksure smirk she had mustered with the word.
Siegfried's heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason when he registered how close their faces were to one another, and he denied his first assumption immediately.
No, that wasn't it. Herr Crawford was just being forward, confident, himself. Fraulein Ishtar had already stated that they were acquainted, so surely, the way in which Pegasus had approached her was from a friendly standpoint. They were just... being familiar. That was all.
Seto hid his vicious smile.
“Do you know what that woman does for a living, Siegfried?” Seto asked. His back was still turned to the rest of the room and he shifted the food on his plate with his toothpick.
Undeterred from his previous foiled attempt, Siegfried watched as Pegasus used his proportions to his advantage and tried to sneak his other hand around Fraulein Ishtar's back to reach her plate again. Without breaking eye contact, she reached up and lightly slapped the back of his hand. Pegasus pulled it away, playfully feigning at being injured and pursing his lips while she wagged her index finger in a chastising manner.
Siegfried refused to accept the context of what he was watching and instead chose to mull over the options. He didn't know what Fraulein Ishtar did beyond dueling, but there was much he could deduce from observation alone. It wasn't remotely out of line to assume someone with her impeccable beauty was a model, but Siegfried knew she wasn't just that. Pegasus was a magnet for alluring, elusive characters. She could have very well been another successful businesswoman and entrepreneur in her own right—like Iman.
Siegfried's breath halted in his throat as he observed Pegasus combing Fraulein Ishtar's hair behind her ear and whispering in it with a natural poise, his lips pulling back into a sly smile with a single word: “Please.”
Isis smiled appreciatively, and Siegfried's jaw clenched.
No.
Fraulein Ishtar couldn't be anything like Iman. Because Iman was married to a revolutionary, dapper English rock star. If Siegfried drew that parallel, then the young German would have had to accept that she and Pegasus were—
Wait.
He gasped as a kernel of hope budded in his mind's eye. Perhaps Fraulein Ishtar wasn't a model after all. Siegfried remembered her mentioning that she had associates at the Egyptian Museum!
“She is the highest executive authority of the antiquities council in Egypt,” Seto informed, affirming and advancing Siegfried's adjusted theory as he turned around with a full plate. “Her life revolves around outdated relics.”
The Japanese man flicked his wrist in a dismissive manner, glaring at Pegasus with a sneer.
Siegfried continued to look on, and it was not Seto Kaiba, but Fraulein Ishtar who dealt the finishing blow to his pining heart. With a coy arch of her brow, she daintily plucked a plump red grape from her plate and playfully placed it to Pegasus' grinning maw. The wily American accepted her offering with no protest, and her fingers remained pressed against his lips as they shared a sultry, lingering gaze. Siegfried knew then, in the very depths of his soul, that was not the first time they experienced a quiet, doting moment with one another, and Seto's lips turned upward with Siegfried's disheartened frown.
“She's only interested in genuine artifacts,” Seto said, sweeping his hand across Siegfried's person. “Not cheap replicas.”
The statement cut Siegfried to the bone, and the young German didn't have it in himself to argue as he looked down in despair. He had been bested in the duel before he could even draw his own sword. Siegfried didn't have the prestige, the skill, nor the right to call Herr Crawford a rival when it came to such matters. He wasn't even in the same league.
In the presence of Pegasus J. Crawford, Siegfried couldn't even call himself a player.
Seto hummed with a sense of satisfaction. All of Siegfried's hopes and expectations had been dashed expertly. It was written all over his face. His spirit had been crushed, utterly annihilated, and Seto could enjoy his appetizers quite cordially if he left it at that.
But that wasn't any fun, now was it?
“Of course, that's just my assessment,” Seto smirked. “If you want to pursue a reenactment of the Iliad and put your company's contract in jeopardy, that's your business.”
Siegfried improved his posture and glared out the corner of his eye. He thought it already quite tasteless that Seto instigated his anguish for personal entertainment, but he thought it was absolutely crass to suggest that Siegfried would resort to something as revolting as abduction to attain a woman.
“I will have you know, Herr Kaiba—”
“Speaking of business,” Seto interrupted. “It's astonishing Pegasus even bothered after your humiliating incident back then.”
Siegfried bristled again.
“I can be persuasive,” Siegfried muttered through his teeth.
“Still riding on Leonhart's coattails?” Seto asked as he poked at a small cube of cheese, and Siegfried's eyes blanched at the implication. “Don't act surprised. I know he's the real negotiator. To think I may have given you the benefit of the doubt, that you've improved after all this time. I can't say I'm disappointed, but I think it is tragic all the same.”
“I do not take credit for Leonhart's work,” Siegfried said. “We are co-presidents; we run Schroeder Corporation as a team.”
“Sure you do,” Seto said, unconvinced. He lifted his small morsel of cheese and rotated it on his toothpick for observation. “So where is the real businessman? I would think if you are a team, you would bring him to the event you both sponsored.”
“Leonhart is... somewhere,” Siegfried said as he swiped a toothpick off the buffet table, but didn't reach for a plate. “He said he was looking for your brother, actually.”
“Hn,” Seto said, suddenly disinterested. He popped the little cube in his mouth and chewed slowly. For whatever reason, Mokuba and Leon insisted on a friendship after the fiasco at the KC Grand Prix. What shocked both brothers further was how well the two did get along, and Siegfried wondered if Leon confided any misgivings about their childhood to Mokuba.
He supposed he couldn't blame either boy for that. Siegfried was well aware that he and Kaiba had been obsessively groomed for the family business, their fathers' attention and resources on their shoulders at all times. So was it unreasonable to think that Mokuba had grown as Leon had, ignored and treated as though he were unworthy or worth less in some way? It made Siegfried ill, thinking that he and Leon could have such different perspectives of their upbringing despite being raised in the same household.
A tinge of guilt settled in Siegfried's chest at the thought. There was little wonder why Leon got along with Mokuba, then. No matter how hard he tried, Siegfried knew he could never fully empathize with what his little brother went through in those years. As much as he hated to admit it, Mokuba may have very well understood Leon in ways he never could.
Though Siegfried couldn't help feeling that the Japanese boy was also a bad influence. For the first year and a half, things seemed to be fine, but once Leon had approached and passed his 14th birthday, his attitude had begun to change. It was nothing drastic, but it had been noticeable to Siegfried. For the past month, Leon had become more subdued than normal, recently developing a tendency to mumble and avert eye contact. Even when their mother knelt to kiss his cheeks to bid him farewell, he seemed to cringe and tightened his own lips to produce the most minimal contact possible when it came time to return the gesture.
Siegfried inwardly sighed at the thought. Perhaps it wasn't fair to blame Mokuba Kaiba for everything, or anything at all, and it was more likely due to the onset of testosterone.
Yet Siegfried never remembered going through a phase where he felt he couldn't be bothered to articulate properly and mumbled when he was talking to their mother...
“Whaaaaaat?! That is crazy!”
Seto and Siegfried jumped at the shrill cry and looked at an open door to their left. It was one of several exits from the main floor that led to a hallway that branched off to an alternate section in the building—the basic architectural layout of any event center shaped like a dome—and Seto hummed.
“Mokuba,” he said simply.
“Seto would never let me do something like that!” Mokuba claimed. “He would lose his mind if he found out!”
“Siegfried doesn't know about it,” came another voice sheepishly. Siegfried raised a brow at that.
“Oh shit, really?” Mokuba guffawed. “Are you gonna show him?”
“Well...”
“Show me what?” Siegfried asked.
He and Seto poked their heads around the door frame and peered into the hall, seeing Leon and Mokuba hunched in a conspiratorial manner. The younger boys were almost reflections of their elder brothers in dress attire.
Mokuba, like Seto, wore a white suit, but opted for a pink dress shirt as opposed to a blue one, and though his stark black hair was considerably shorter at a cut above the shoulders, it was still not as tightly groomed as his older brother's. Leon, meanwhile, had opted for a magenta suit with a mint green dress shirt as opposed to the palatinate and cerise hues Siegfried favored, and while the younger boy's shaggy maroon hair had almost reached the same length as Siegfried's below the waist, he kept it contained in a neat ponytail.
“What would I never let you do that Leon did?” Seto asked suspiciously, rounding the door with his plate. Siegfried stepped beside him and crossed his arms with his lips cocked to the side, the small toothpick held between the index and middle knuckles of his right hand.
Mokuba and Leon straightened their posture, the latter appearing more hesitant than the former.
“Uh, I... Um—” Leon stammered.
“New deck,” Mokuba said quickly. “He built a new deck. The setup is insane.”
“Leonhart, I didn't know you were building a new deck,” Siegfried said with a surprised blink. “What kind?”
Leon rubbed the back of his head.
“Uh, it's a bur—”
“Rogue!” Mokuba interjected. “Rogue! That's why it's insane.”
Seto and Siegfried squinted at the declaration.
“And I would 'lose my mind' if I found out you built a rogue deck too?” Seto asked skeptically. Yes, he personally didn't think rogue decks were particularly practical, but with the limitless access they had to cards, it shouldn't have been an issue.
“Leon's is especially crazy,” Mokuba claimed. “It's gonna sweep all the pros in Hamburg and make them look like scrubs.”
“Leonhart, I did not know were planning to take on Hamburg this year,” Siegfried said, still somewhat shocked at the information. “You made no mention of wanting to play in any tournaments this season.”
“Well, I haven't signed up yet. I'm still undecided, really,” Leon shrugged. “Mokuba is overselling my strategy. It looks good on paper, but I haven't put it into practice.”
“You can always practice with me,” Siegfried offered, and Seto blinked at the humble tone. “I would be very happy to help you test it out. From Mokuba's reaction, this new rogue deck sounds fun.”
“Maybe later,” Leon said with another mild shrug. “Still working on some things. Still thinking about a lot. Might not go through with it. We'll see.”
Seto observed Siegfried attempting to hide a crestfallen frown, and the German failed miserably at the facade. It was almost too pathetic for Seto to watch.
Almost.
“... Okay,” Siegfried replied quietly. “Well, if you change your mind or feel like sharing, don't hesitate to let me know. I am always more than happy to help you.”
“I'll keep it in mind,” Leon mumbled as he averted his eyes to the walls and the ceiling, tightening his shoulders and slipping his thumbs in the pockets of his slacks. Siegfried furrowed his brow, Seto arched one of his, and Mokuba decided then that he and Leon would be better off outside of their brothers' eyesight. He stretched out his arm and grabbed at the shoulder of Leon's suit, turning their backs to Siegfried and Seto's questioning stares.
“So, Leon, any news on how Rebecca is doing?” Mokuba asked loudly. “It's been a while since I heard anything from her.”
“Oh, Becky?” Leon said, and Siegfried noted that his restrained tone had piqued considerably at the mention of the young woman. “She's doing great. She's looking forward to starting her Master's next semester.”
Seto could feel Mokuba's mouth breaking to a grin with the following words.
“Becky, huh?” Mokuba pried, and Leon blushed. “How did that happen?”
Siegfried immediately felt uncomfortable for both his brother and himself, and Seto glared. Mokuba had better manners than that.
“It was nothing dramatic,” Leon confessed with a small chuckle. “She was taking German and contacted me to help with homework. We got to talking about more stuff throughout the year, and when the summer came she enrolled in an international program that included a two week trip to Berlin. The lodging and food was already paid for by the university, but she thought it better if I showed her places outside the curriculum. Things kind of just went from there.”
That was as much as Leon wanted to divulge. Mokuba cocked his lips with hiked brows, practically feeling Seto's agitation and Siegfried's discomfort at the conversation. They could go off with little issue now, and they began to walk away.
“So you offered to educate her in your native tongue outside of class?” Mokuba asked, and the subtext wasn't lost on Leon. However, as Siegfried noted, his brother did the proper thing and omitted the details.
“I made a small comment in passing, but she was more insistent,” Leon shrugged haplessly and scratched at his cheek. “She was very passionate about the subject, and the feeling was mutual.”
“I see,” Mokuba drawled. “So, did she teach you anything in return?”
Siegfried pursed his lips at the implication and Seto sneered, a second away from scolding Mokuba, but Leon beat him to the opportunity as his eyes went alight at the question.
“Yes! She called me the other day and said she found an extensive historical anthology on American folklore at her campus library!” Leon said excitedly, and Mokuba was ill prepared for the oncoming rant.
“It's comprised of ten volumes this thick, all out of print and you can only see them at certain institutions in the States. She's scanning each book and converting them to PDF files! I told her she didn't need to go through all the trouble, but she said she was happy to do it in her free time. She's the best! I didn't realize how much I was missing! Things like—oh! So there was this guy who planted 1,200 acres of apple orchards and made a massive profit from distilling spirits from the fruit, but it turns out most Americans are familiar with an idealized version of him from...”
Mokuba could feel his eyelids getting heavy from the onslaught, but he was also well aware his friend was too far along to stop at this point. At the very least, Mokuba took solace in the fact that both Seto and Siegfried appeared to be just as uninvested as he was in Leon's literary hobby when he quickly glanced over this shoulder. He took advantage of their disinterest and escalated their pace until they disappeared when they turned a corner down the hall.
Siegfried's shoulders went slack with a quiet sigh. That was the most he had seen Leon so vocal and animated in the past month. He didn't want to appear invasive, but he couldn't think of a way to approach Leon about his recent distance. Was his younger brother just trying to sort things out for himself in private, or was Siegfried missing something altogether and failing as a confidant?
“Jealous?” Seto asked.
“Hmm?” Siegfried blinked.
“It isn't surprising, really,” Seto said dryly, popping a German meatball in his mouth. “Between the two of you, Leonhart has more charm and all of the wit. Little wonder that antiquated woman cut her conversation with you short. You're not a very appealing character.”
“Is that so?” Siegfried asked with narrowed eyes. “Since you seem to have so much to say about the matter, I assume you are a well of advice. Have you any inamoratas to speak of, Herr Kaiba?”
Siegfried smiled when he saw Seto's jaw stiffen mid-chew.
“I see,” Siegfried said smugly, and he reached over to stab a meatball off Seto's plate with his own toothpick. “Perhaps you should not be so eager to offer cuisine your own self cannot consume, Herr Kaiba.”
Seto swallowed his serving to avoid talking with his mouth full.
“Du gehst mir auf den Keks,” Seto hissed, and Siegfried curled his lip. “I see your hair isn't the only thing you can butcher expertly.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know the word 'inamorata', but you managed to screw that up?” Seto barked. Siegfried said nothing in return, but looked at him quizzically, tightly pinching the toothpick between his thumb and index finger and holding the little meatball between them.
“That idiom was completely wrong, you delusional dimwit,” Seto said. “The phrase is 'Don't dish out what you can't take'!”
Siegfried merely shrugged, unbothered by the outburst.
“Okay... Then, don't do that.”
“Do what?” Seto asked with a tight, sideways glance and upturned lip.
“What you just said,” Siegfried clarified with another casual shrug. “Don't dish out what you can't take.”
Seto stared Siegfried down as he popped the meatball into his mouth and chewed normally, deciding any further sentiment would be lost on the pink-haired man.
“You are not worth another second of my time,” Seto seethed. “I can feel my plate getting cold. I'm not talking to you anymore.”
He emphasized the statement by turning on his heel, but didn't make any motion to move away. Siegfried swallowed and blinked at Seto Kaiba's backside.
“But you are the one who started talking to me...”
Seto didn't dignify him with a reply, and Siegfried decided then that his time would be better spent reviewing his notes than talking to his long-time competitor. He left Seto to sulk in the isolation of the hall and returned to the main floor, rehearsing his introductory speech in his head. He could recite it verbatim after spending so much time preparing for this day, but he found himself at a loss for words when he saw Herr Crawford and Fraulein Ishtar were still standing beside the stage. Siegfried could not interpret what they were saying from afar as they shared food from the same plate, but the fondness in their eyes spoke volumes.
Despite not hearing a word between them, Siegfried understood perfectly, and his hand drifted over the rose insignia on his lapel.
He really is the man who has everything.
- 0 – 0 – 0 -
Siegfried wanted to die.
“Scheisse!”
He loosened his jabot and tossed his collected notes in the small bin next to his desk with an audible “whack”, before he plopped himself into his chair and threw his forearms onto the table. The momentum almost made him smack his forehead against the dense wood, but he saved himself the extra dose of agony and planted his face in his arms.
The D-Wheel?!
Not only did Seto Kaiba steal his thunder by going up first at his event in his own country, but then to pull a stunt like that? How?! Why?! It made no sense!
Siegfried seriously considered if there was a spy among them. How else would Seto Kaiba have gotten the radical idea to team up with Yamaha Motor Company and produce a godforsaken dueling motorcycle?!
I'm ruined!
He felt like an idiot.
How was he supposed to tell his mother? After he hyped it up for the past year. Her unwavering support: dashed, for naught, wasted—and then there was Leonhart. His little brother had invested so much of his own time and effort into helping Siegfried put it together and it all meant nothing in the end!
Siegfried couldn't believe it. After all that time, after the pathetic spectacle at Kaiba Land USA, he was still behind the curve. The shame was so great, he couldn't bear to be in the room when the wretched D-Wheel prototype was unveiled.
He pulled at his hair with a whine. How on earth could he be anything like Pegasus when he couldn't break new ground? There had to be something, some way he could get Herr Crawford's undivided attention.
But how?
Siegfried opened his desk drawer with a growl and dropped a notepad onto his desk. He then placed his favorite lavender fountain pen between his teeth as he opened his laptop, eyes determined and near-manic as his slender fingers flew across the keyboard to log into his account.
It was just a setback, a minor, multi-million dollar setback. His contract with Industrial Illusions was still current, and he had another year to develop another project. He just needed to do some brain storming, was all.
Thirty minutes passed, and the blinking cursor on his blank writing document mocked him.
Thirty more minutes passed, and he had managed to draw an array of stars, circles, and musical notes at the top of his notepad.
Fifteen more minutes passed, and Siegfried was reading the newest Forbes article on Herr Crawford and his recent trip to Egypt. He reviewed a photograph of Pegasus in what looked to be khaki archaeological attire, and the American businessman was enamored with the woman standing across from him as she pointed at the topographic map on the table.
Ten minutes passed after that, and Siegfried found himself trying to decipher the Arabic on the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities' poorly formatted website. He scrawled whatever he could interpret from the far-too-literal translation of his language software.
That could be a side project, he thought briefly.
Twenty minutes passed, and he was vexed at what little information he could find on Fraulein Ishtar. Siegfried had learned her first name was Isis (“She really is a goddess,” he had sighed wistfully into his palm when he opened a separate window to research the origin of the name), she currently lived in a duplex in Heliopolis, and that she hailed from an area called the New Valley Governorate, which looked like a massive swath of uncharted desert when Siegfried pulled up a satellite view. The only other information he could find, such as her credentials and educational background, seemed to be relatively recent, all of it published within the past seven years. Nothing else seemed to exist before then.
Strange...
Twelve more minutes passed, and Siegfried learned, much to his disappointment, that she had no sisters. She did, however, have two brothers, though the younger one with the light blonde hair had made him do a fact-check twice.
Twenty-five more minutes passed, and Siegfried had several tabs open to a myriad of dating websites with an Oriental focus. He massaged his chin and squinted at the screen.
He was skeptical of giving his personal information away, even if it was something as tertiary as his height and hobbies, and he wondered how quickly he would be filtered out of the algorithm if he selected an alternate religion than the obvious majority. Was it obvious, or was he making a hasty generalization? Siegfried could deduce some inclinations from geography, but it wasn't as though he could tell precisely what Fraulein Ishtar practiced at a glance...
He scanned the open tabs with a hapless groan and the image of Herr Crawford eating a grape made him wince.
What was Siegfried doing? It was hopeless. Even if there was a match among them, he doubted they could possibly compare to—
“Siegfried?”
The pink-haired man startled with a jump in his chair as Leon opened the door and flipped on the light switch.
“Why are you working in the dark? That's not good for your eyes,” Leon said. His tone was one of concern as he stepped into Siegfried's home office. He grimaced as Leon approached him with his hands in his pockets, a small part of himself blaming Mokuba Kaiba for such an informal stance before his eyes flickered to the laptop.
He quickly minimized the window and looked over his computer.
“I lost track of time,” Siegfried admitted. “It was light when I started.”
“Are you all right now?” Leon muttered, enunciating as much as he could without parting his lips. “You missed a lot while you were gone.”
A wave of guilt punched Siegfried in the gut—or whatever he had below his ribcage. He couldn't muster the courage to follow up after Kaiba's presentation and he made the gutless move of leaving Leon to unveil the Synchro-Cycle by himself.
“It'll be all right, Siegfried,” Leon had assured him several hours back. “Remember the promise I made? You don't have to do this stuff alone anymore. We're a team. Go and compose yourself. I've got this.”
Yes, Siegfried composed himself all right. He composed himself in the back of a limousine as he destroyed a handkerchief with his nose making a retreat back to the family castle. Little wonder Leon had grown so distant in recent happenstance if that was how he reacted to one setback.
Though, miraculously, his brother didn't seem to hold a grudge for the episode.
“Seriously, you missed a lot,” Leon beamed. His freckles spread across his cheeks as his lips parted into a proud grin. “Pegasus really liked Schroeder Corporation's Synchro-Cycle.”
Siegfried's eye blanched with a gasp.
“H-he... He did? But Herr Kaiba—”
“Pegasus did look at Kaiba Corporation's D-Wheel first. He said the panel layout was more user-friendly and the projected price tag was accommodating for budget-minded individuals, but he preferred the Synchro-Cycle's design and said it had more character,” Leon chuckled. “I said it was due to the German engineering.”
“He... liked it...” Siegfried breathed in disbelief.
“Mm hmm,” Leon nodded. “Even Mokuba liked our prototype more! He said the ergonomics were more relaxed and it fit him better than the D-Wheel. Seto was... kinda not happy he said that.”
Siegfried chortled at the news, whether out of spite or relief, he wasn't sure.
“Pegasus' lady friend was interested in it too. Though—”
“Fraulein Ishtar liked it?!” Siegfried piqued, and Leon scratched his cheek.
“Uh, well, she was interested, but...”
“But...?”
“She inquired more about the mechanical details than the aesthetics,” Leon said with an uneasy smile. “She wasn't a fan of the closer service intervals compared to the D-Wheel, but I think I got her seal of approval when I showed her the Synchro-Cycle was a shaft drive. She said her little brother hates dealing with chains, but she didn't say anything explicitly about her own preferences...”
Leon shrugged with a half-smile.
“Like I said, you missed a lot. Pegasus was really disappointed he didn't get a chance to talk with you. He was looking forward to it.”
Siegfried's jaw went slack at being informed of the missed opportunity, and Leon scratched his cheek self-consciously again.
“Anyway~” Leon went on, “I got to talking with Seto Kaiba too. He said he wants to have a conference with our respective legal teams so everyone involved can work out the patents for the prototypes.”
“You mean, he wants to take credit for everyone's work,” Siegfried intoned.
“Not quite,” Leon said, “I think you and Seto are going to be more civil about it, to be honest.”
“Oh?” Siegfried inquired. “What makes you say that?”
“The contracts with the motor companies makes things complicated. The engineers and marketing reps didn't seem to like each other very much at the expo.”
“... I see.”
“But with that said, everything went pretty well,” Leon decided. He interlaced his fingers and stretched them over his head.
“So see, Siegfried? Everything turned out okay.”
“... I'm sorry, Leonhart,” Siegfried sighed, and Leon tilted his head.
“Huh? For what? Everything went fine at the unveiling.”
“I abandoned you,” Siegfried sighed pathetically. “I left you to fend for yourself.”
“Yes, after I told you it was okay to go,” Leon emphasized. “Siegfried, you looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack. I wasn't going to force you to stay when you were in that state. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't have your back in that situation?”
“But we are not just brothers, Leonhart. We are business partners,” Siegfried said. “What I did was unprofessional.”
“Well, to be fair, we've never been very conventional in our personal practices anyway,” Leon said. “We've both caused some trouble with our habits back in the dark ages.”
Siegfried cringed at the implication, at his sins during the Grand Prix, at the knowledge that it was his shadow that forced Leon to prove his own worth under a false identity, and tried to apologize.
“Leonhart, I—”
“If you want to make things up to me, then you can do me a favor,” Leon grinned as he took out a thumb drive. “Can I use your laptop to print out this PDF Becky sent me? I can read it fine on the computer, but there's a lot to go through and the light hurts my eyes after a while.”
Siegfried saw nothing wrong with the request, but his attention drifted to the minimized window on the screen in front of him.
There was no way he was letting his brother see that.
“Does your printer not work?” Siegfried asked.
“The printer itself is fine. The wireless connection is just giving me issues and I don't have the right cable for the laptop Mama got me.”
“Have you tried turning it off and on again after waiting a minute?” Siegfried asked, and Leon pursed his lips at the question.
“I know how to troubleshoot a printer,” Leon mumbled.
“Did you reboot your laptop?” Siegfried asked.
“Yes. Siegfried...”
“Did you try uninstalling and reinstalling the driver?”
“Siegfried,” Leon pouted. “It'll be really quick. I promise.”
That confirmed it, then.
“You wiped the original operating system and replaced it with Linux, didn't you?”
“What? No,” Leon laughed nervously. “No, I...”
He shrank under Siegfried's skeptical stare.
“Well, yes,” Leon admitted with a sheepish smile. “That's when I lost the connection. The driver is giving me issues.”
“Are you using Mint?” Siegfried asked.
“Ubuntu,” Leon said as he rubbed the back of his head.
“Simple enough,” Siegfried sighed with a relaxed shrug. “We can work on it together, later. Come here.”
As Leon made his way to where Siegfried sat, the latter traced his middle finger over the touchpad with every intention to close the minimized window at the bottom of the screen, unbeknownst that something sinister lurked beneath the cursor.
If life was a stage play and Siegfried had been written into a cruel epic of divine proportions, then the paying audience would have seen that the moment Leon stepped around to other side of the desk was also the precise moment the great Norn Verdandi beckoned her sisters to her side as she twirled the thread of fate around her finger, and said: “Hey, girls, watch this.”
The window didn't close.
While Siegfried and Leon had an awareness of some generalities, they had admittedly very little knowledge about the specific dogmas of Middle Eastern culture. Despite this, there was very little doubt in either brother's mind that the pop-ups that flooded Siegfried's laptop were not halal.
“Siegfried, oh mein Gott!” Leon gasped, and his thumb drive dropped to the floor as he clamped both of his hands over his mouth. “Scheisse!”
“Leonhart! Language! Be decent!” Siegfried frantically tapped the touchpad in a panicked frenzy to close the lewd pop-ups as he placed his other hand over the screen.
Scheisse. Scheisse! Scheisse!!
For all his vigilant efforts, Siegfried was locked in a losing battle against a tenaciously coded hydra. For every window that closed, two more would open, and he could see through the gaps in his fingers a flashing array of women in harem pants and veils—and not much else.
How did this get past my firewall?!
For a full minute, Leon looked on in horror as his brother struggled with the lascivious ads.
“Siegfried, on second thought, I think I'll just go to bed...”
“No. Leonhart. It's. Fine. Just. Give. Me. A. Minute.”
After another round failed attempts, Siegfried decided to implement the nuclear option and maintained a steady pressure over the power button with his index finger. He knew it defied proper procedure, feeling as though he was strangling his precious machine in her final throes, and the brothers cringed as they heard the small, strained whine of the computer when the screen went black.
A moment of silence passed between the von Schroeders, and Siegfried curled his lip with disdain as he slowly closed his laptop and slid it over to rest at the edge of his desk.
“I don't think I was old enough to legally see that,” Leon squeaked as he lowered his hands. He then squinted down at his brother in disbelief.
“You are telling me to 'be decent'? You're the one looking at Arabian porn!”
“I was not looking at pornography! That was adware!” Siegfried cried. “I was just looking at dating websites!”
Siegfried clenched his hands at his knees and bent over, his face beet red as he was visibly ashamed and beside himself. Leon blinked at the confession.
“Dating websites? For Arab women?” Leon asked, and he became wary of the connotations in his own sentence. “Uhm, not that there's anything wrong with wanting to date an Arab. I just had no idea you were looking to date at all—wait.”
Siegfried's pulse hiked when he saw the realization dawn across his little brother's eyes.
“Leonhart, leave it.”
The younger brother pointed at Siegfried with an accusation.
“This is because of Pegasus, isn't it?”
“No, it's not!” Siegfried denied.
“It is!” Leon gasped. “This has to do with that woman he was with, doesn't it?”
“No, it doesn't!”
“It does!” Leon shouted, furrowing his brow in disappointment. “Oh, Siegfried, that's not right.”
Siegfried recoiled with a guilty pout, but Leon became intently aware of what he had just said and felt the need to put it into context.
“I mean, interracial relationships are perfectly fine. It's just that your motivation is—”
“I don't have a motive!” Siegfried exclaimed. “Cinderella is your favorite fairy tale, but you think it's insidious when your own brother wants to sweep a woman off her feet and be her Prince Charming?”
Leon cocked a brow and crossed his arms at his chest.
“So because you're specifically looking for a woman of Middle Eastern descent, you assume she's going to be an impoverished maiden in need of saving? Way to be Eurocentric and chauvinistic, Siegfried.”
“That is not what I meant at all!” Siegfried gasped, scandalized at the assertion. “Don't twist my words!”
“The only twisted thing I see is your dating scheme,” Leon said.
“It's not a scheme!” Siegfried bleated.
“Then what am I supposed to call it?” Leon asked with outstretched arms. “What were you planning on doing after you met someone, Siegfried? Did you think you could hold her in reserve until it was time to bring her to the next big business event? So you could saunter up to Pegasus and compare your girlfriends like luxury cars? As though the two of you would bond and act like you're part of some exclusive club because you have 'exotic' tastes? That's really messed up!”
Siegfried cringed, and Leon reflected the expression, feeling the need to apply context once again.
“Uh, I mean, it's not messed up for people of different backgrounds to date, or anything,” Leon said meekly, before hardening his gaze and looking Siegfried in the eyes again. “But what I mean is, it is really messed up that you think it would be okay to treat a woman like that and parade her around like some sort of status symbol.”
Siegfried had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, not so much at his brother's words, but more at the tone of his voice.
“You have been talking to Rebecca too much,” Siegfried said sharply. Leon wrinkled his nose with a defiant huff.
“Becky is a smart, confident—”
“Overbearing young woman who is hard at work indoctrinating you with American feminist propaganda,” Siegfried droned as he tapped his index finger at the center of Leon's forehead. “Willkommen.”
Leon batted Siegfried's finger away with a pout.
“Becky shares her ideas because she is comfortable talking to me, not because she thinks I'm a doormat!” Leon said with conviction, and Siegfried was mildly surprised to see his brother attempt a snarl before he tempered the small blush on his freckled face.
“She never got private tutors like we did, Siegfried. She always had to deal with classmates who were older and bigger than she was, and even when she tested better than anyone in her class, she was always treated like she was invalid because of her age, and it got worse for her at university. She knows what it's like to be looked down upon, and it took her a really, really long time to learn to trust people and accept a compliment instead of scrutinizing it or thinking someone was patronizing her.”
Siegfried grimaced.
“Very well, Leon, I underst—”
“No, you don't,” Leon said. “She does her best not to show it, but it really hurts her feelings when people make snap judgments or don't give her any merit. I'm always happy to listen whenever she wants to talk to me about something important to her, because it really does mean a lot when she reaches out like that. So don't accuse her of walking all over me just because I might agree with some of her ideas. That's not fair to either of us.”
Siegfried was dumbfounded at how passionate Leon was about the subject, and his brother continued with his ultimatum.
“She treats me with respect because I give her the same, and you should too—and not just her!” Leon urged. “It's not right to treat anyone as an accessory, Siegfried. It's not healthy.”
Siegfried sighed wearily and cradled his face in his hands.
“That is not what I think of Fraulein Ishtar at all,” he groaned in desperation. “Have you such little opinion of me?”
“... I guess I overreacted,” Leon said apologetically. “But if it's not like that, then what did you really think of her, Siegfried? Why the sudden interest in... this stuff?”
Siegfried said nothing and refused to look up from his hands.
“Siegfried?”
“... She was beautiful,” Siegfried whispered. “I had been so nervous about making a good impression in front of Herr Crawford, and she noticed. The moment she acknowledged me and gave me her words of encouragement, all that tension melted away. I had never met her before then, but the way she spoke to me...”
He lowered his hands from his face, his eyes clouded with melancholy.
“There was warmth to her. She was articulate, with the most soothing voice, and she was kind, and even though we were strangers, her kindness towards me was genuine. I hadn't gathered all my thoughts in time, and before I could form anything worth saying to her, she had walked off.”
“And you envisioned it leading to a big wedding at Schloss Neuschwanstein?” Leon asked innocently.
Siegfried chuckled to himself. Even for all his common sense and wit, Leon always proved to be the bigger romantic of the two of them.
“Nothing that fanciful,” Siegfried said with a sad smile. “I just wanted to talk with her more, is all.”
“But then you saw her with Pegasus?”
“Herr Kaiba pointed me in the general direction where she was with Herr Crawford,” Siegfried said miserably.
“So you were smitten and snubbed within a minute,” Leon stated. It was not in a harmful way by any means, but the words still chipped at Siegfried's pride and there was a painful tug in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he only nodded, squinting his eyes shut and hanging his head low.
“Oh, Siegfried,” Leon sighed pitifully, reaching out to touch his brother's shoulder. “I understand how you can feel sore about it, but... I really don't think this is a good way to cope with that.”
Siegfried lifted his head just enough to see Leon pointing at the closed laptop behind him.
“I mean, there's no shame in wanting to look for someone, but I think it's more important to want a partner for who they are, not what they are,” Leon began. “I'm not saying the latter doesn't contribute anything, but I really think it's better to get to know someone beyond a handful of minutes and secondhand information if you want to pursue a relationship. How would you feel if Fraulein Ishtar only made the effort to judge you based on what she would hear from Seto Kaiba, or anyone who was attending the Grand Prix back then?”
Siegfried winced.
“Okay, that's not a very good comparison,” Leon confessed.
“No, Leon, the fault is not yours. It is only painful because it is the truth,” Siegfried smiled grimly. “I am not a great person.”
“That is not true!” Leon shouted, and his brother jumped at the tone.
“Don't ever say that, Siegfried!” Leon scolded. “Yes, you did bad things, and yes, you made your share of mistakes, but guess what? There are a lot of other people in the world who have done bad things and made mistakes, but you acknowledge your flaws and try to improve! That's what you've always done! Many people make excuses for themselves and refuse to change, sometimes because they're scared, or maybe they feel they can't be bothered, but that's never been you! Even if it upsets you or makes you nervous, or even if people don't think you can do it, you always try, every day, because you care and you always strive to be better!”
“That is called competitiveness, Leonhart,” Siegfried said ruefully. “It does not come from a good place.”
“It does come from a good place, Siegfried, because you are good,” Leon said, reaching forward and resting his hands on his brother's shoulders. “You hold yourself to such a high standard, you don't want to believe it, but I've seen it. Everything you do is for this family, because you believe in your heart that it is the right thing to do for us, even if it means you have to struggle. I still remember when you took over the company and switched over to gaming; more than half of the executive heads resigned because they thought the company would go under, but even with a limited staff during the transition, you managed to keep it afloat.”
“Fate offered me a decent hand that year,” Siegfried murmured. “It did not last very long.”
“Then tell me why our stocks are doing well,” Leon said. “Tell me why Pegasus keeps a contract with Schroeder Corporation, trusts you to make the right decisions and be a worthwhile investment. Do you really think he would sign a multi-million dollar deal just for the fun of it?”
“Herr Crawford is from Las Vegas. Gambling is in his blood,” Siegfried shrugged. He thought back to the International Tech Exposition, to silken black hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a voice that lured sailors to their untimely demise in another life, finding himself envious in that they had the fortune to have died happy.
Siegfried knew he would have no such luck.
“The goddess of fate smiles upon him,” Siegfried sighed with a bowed head, and Leon's brow twitched. He loved his big brother, looked up to him, admired him since he could remember, but Leon had not a stronger urge than that very moment to slap Siegfried across the face.
But instead, Leon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and kept his hands still on Siegfried's person.
“I really believe most people in the world are good, Siegfried,” Leon said, opening his eyes and staring into his brother's sullen face. “Life can be unfair, and painful, and hard to deal with, but I really think it's worth it in the end when you aim to be the best version of yourself that you can be. You're capable of that. I know you are.”
“Leonhart,” Siegfried groaned.
“Don't take that tone with me,” Leon said half-jokingly. Siegfried's breath hiked in his throat, finding it odd how eerily similar Leon's expression was to their mother's when she was being stern with them. He found it more surprising when his posture automatically straightened under the determined stare.
“You do good because you are good, Siegfried, all on your own. So instead of focusing on what makes other people great, put more emphasis on what already makes you great, and I think, when the time comes, there will be another person who will see that and appreciate you for everything you are, and you'll appreciate them more for it too.”
Leon removed his hands from his brother's shoulders and placed his hands on his knees, tilting his head with a question.
“If that makes sense?”
“Yes, it does,” Siegfried said with a small smile before reaching forward to embrace his little brother. Leon returned the hug without question and felt Siegfried pat his hand across the top of his back before squeezing him tighter. “Perhaps mother should have let you teach me a lesson or two when we were younger. You have the presence for it.”
“Oh no,” Leon muttered into Siegfried's shoulder. “I wasn't too preachy, was I?”
“Rebecca would be proud of you,” Siegfried teased, and Leon slumped in his arms. Whether it was out of embarrassment or exasperation, Siegfried was not entirely certain.
“So did you learn all that from reading your fairy tales?” Siegfried asked as they parted, and Leon looked down as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Not all of it,” Leon chuckled. “I watched a lot of Disney and Don Bluth movies too.”
Siegfried suddenly found himself envying Leon for the joke. Despite not having as much of their family's focus early on, Siegfried would have argued that Leon had more of an actual childhood than he did. Perhaps when they had the time, they could sit down together and have a movie marathon one weekend...
“Well, it's been a busy day,” Leon said dismissively as he put his hands back in the pockets of his slacks. “It's late. I should get to bed.”
“But I thought you wanted to print out your PDF?” Siegfried asked. Leon shrugged with nonchalant smile.
“I think it can wait until morning, unless you really want to turn your laptop on again.”
Both brothers eyed the machine sitting on the desk, and an ill sense of foreboding fell over them.
“Nein,” Siegfried uttered.
“We'll figure out the driver on my laptop tomorrow,” Leon said as he patted Siegfried's shoulder. “Like you promised me, right?”
“Yes,” Siegfried said. “Schlaf schön, Leonhart.”
“Schlaf gut, Siegfried,” Leon said as he walked away, and his brother thought there was an odd swagger to his gait as he walked away with his hands still in his pockets.
Then a thought crossed Leon's mind, and he stopped with a mischievous smile at the entrance of Siegfried's office.
“It's just a shame,” Leon sighed as he shook his head.
“What is?” Siegfried asked.
“We can't eat at any of the local Turkish joints anymore,” Leon said as he looked at his brother over his shoulder.
“Why not?”
“Well, it would be terribly awkward,” Leon said with a cocky shrug. “I wouldn't be able to enjoy my meal because I'd have to restrain you from flirting with the woman at my favorite doner kebab stall.”
“I AM NOT GOING TO FLIRT WITH THE WOMAN AT THE DONER KEBAB STALL!” Siegfried shrieked with a flustered blush.
“What, Turks aren't good enough for you? Racist.”
Siegfried's lips lowered and his eyes narrowed at the sarcastic quip.
That attitude, he was definitely going to blame on Mokuba Kaiba.
“By the way, just so you know,” Leon hummed in a matter-of-factly tone. “Fraulein Ishtar isn't an Arab.”
“Leonhart,” Siegfried growled.
“Though I guess if you just put down 'Egyptian' as a preference on your profile, that'd be a start.”
“Leonhart,” Siegfried growled again.
“Mokuba told me she's part of some indigenous ethnic group, so that narrows down a lot of your options.”
“Leonhart!” Siegfried scolded. “Go to your room!”
“Yes, Mama,” Leon snickered. “Nachtinacht.”
Siegfried glared as his brother practically sprinted out of his office.
Mokuba Kaiba was definitely a terrible influence.
… Though, he also supposed his brother's levity and teasing was preferable to disdain or loathing, especially after today. Siegfried was mildly surprised how well that had gone, and that Leon had spoken with him in such great detail after nearly a month of aloofness. Maybe it had just been a mood, an after effect of teen hormones and birthday blues?
Siegfried pinched his chin between his thumb and index finger with a glance to the ceiling.
But Leon still seemed somewhat restrained during the exchange. Passionate as he was, his little brother had tried to maintain a straight face and he had said as much as he could without exaggerating any movement in his mouth.
At least he didn't murmur the entire time...
Siegfried sighed wearily. He was probably thinking about it too hard. After his breakdown at the exposition and the web browsing debacle, all things considered, Leon still had the better manners of the two of them.
With that sobering thought, Siegfried decided that Leon had the better idea. It was time to go to sleep. He quickly rose out of his chair and winced as his lower back complained when he stood. How long had he been sitting again?
He made a mental note to either upgrade to a standing desk or purchase a more ergonomic chair for his home office as he massaged the cramped muscles in his lumbar, and his grimace turned to surprise as his patented leather shoe brushed against something small on the plush carpet. He recognized the rose insignia against the black plastic, and he bent over to pick it up.
Leon had been so absorbed in consoling (and chastising) him, he had forgotten his thumb drive.
Siegfried smiled to himself when he thought of how careless it would have been under other circumstances, especially after Leon had headed a brief on data security last quarter, but he decided it would be best to do the responsible thing and return it to his little brother—and perhaps tease him about his unintended hypocrisy regarding technological safety guidelines in passing.
After Siegfried turned off the lights and locked up his office, he made a straight bee-line to Leon's room and motioned to knock on the door. His fingers halted when he heard the sound of a young woman giggling, and he knitted his brow.
He thought Leon said he was going to sleep?
“Oh my god, why would you do that?!”
Siegfried blinked, recognizing the sound.
Rebecca?
“You really don't like it?” he heard Leon ask hesitantly.
“I didn't say that,” Rebecca chuckled. “I admit it's not something I would usually go for, but I can make an exception in your case.”
Siegfried blinked again and pursed his lips as he held his ear to the door. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Leon to hold an online session with his long-distance girlfriend at this time of night, but as he had just walked upon the conversation, he had no frame of reference for why Fraulein Hopkins was squealing like a banshee.
“I just never thought you would do something like that! It's crazy!” Rebecca said. “Show it to me again!”
Siegfried's jaw dropped.
Show her?
His fist curled against the door with a snarl as he deduced the evidence.
Again with this blasted rogue deck?!
Siegfried could begrudgingly accept Leon divulging with his best friend at the expo, but for him to spend fifteen minutes lecturing Siegfried, and then to sneak off to his room to present his newest deck to his girlfriend on the other side of globe, as opposed to sharing the information with his own big brother?
That was it.
Siegfried was going to see this new rogue deck, and they were going to duel.
Thankfully, Leon had forgotten to lock his door. Siegfried seized the opportunity to swing it open with a grand flourish as he held his little brother's thumb drive in hand to feign the sole intention of being helpful.
“Leonhart, you forgot your—”
Siegfried's impressive posturing deflated as he and Leon locked eyes.
In another display of hypocrisy, Leon had been chatting with Rebecca while the lights in his own room were turned off, but Siegfried decided that ranked at the bottom of things to chastise.
As Leon sat cross-legged against the pillows on his bed, Siegfried could see through the glow of the blue light that he had changed out of his suit and settled down in a pair of sweatpants and a black hoodie. Though much of the design was hidden by Leon's arms and laptop, Siegfried could make out the name “Hanzel und Gretyl” across his chest. Mokuba had sent it as a gag-gift for his birthday, and a cursory search had taught Siegfried that it was an American industrial metal band comprised of two singers whose lyrics had nothing to do with fairy tales and could only howl 25 words of nonsensical German throughout an entire album.
“Well... the fabric looks comfortable...” their mother had said apprehensively as she tried not to stare at the iron cross, skulls, and pentagrams on the front and back.
Siegfried still couldn't believe Leon kept it, let alone wore the accursed thing to bed.
But that wasn't what was shocking him right now.
For the past month, Siegfried had thought Leon's distant mannerisms and subdued speech patterns were a by-product of puberty and the simmering onset of teenage rebellion, but the moment he walked through that door, the situation became clear to him. Leon hadn't been acting aloof since his birthday; he had been acting guilty.
However, Siegfried empathized with scrutiny as he assessed that he, too, probably wouldn't want to talk very much if he had illegally gotten a tongue piercing.
Leon began to shrink into his pillows as he slowly drew his tongue back into his mouth to hide the little barbell from view, gulping as Siegfried squinted and placed his hands on his hips.
“Leon, what's going on? Why are you frozen?” Rebecca asked. The audio hadn't picked up Siegfried's voice when he entered, and she had no clue to what had just transpired off-screen. “Is the connection lagging?”
“Uh... Becky, I'm sorry, but...” Leon said tepidly, feeling smaller by the second as Siegfried's stare grew more intense. “I'm gonna have to call you back.”
“What? Why?” Rebecca asked, her tone a mixture of vexation and disappointment. “We just got on.”
“Family business,” Leon squeaked. He closed the laptop despite Rebecca's protests so she wouldn't see him squirm.
Siegfried thought it was astonishing, how he could be rendered speechless and still want to say so much. He wasn't sure where to start, and while bells and whistles rang in his head, he composed his outward appearance as he leaned against the entrance, digging his heel into the door frame to ground himself. He crossed his arms at his chest, regarding Leon with a raised brow as he cocked his lips to the side.
“Rogue deck, hm?”
“... Please don't tell Mama.”
END