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The first time Shizuka meets Kisara, she thinks that maybe something is wrong with her eyes again, because there is no way a human being could possibly look like that.
Kisara stands about five-foot-four - not that much taller than Shizuka herself - but there’s something so ethereal about the way she moves that she seems to be almost as tall as Kaiba standing by her side. Like she is actually floating a few inches off the ground. Her silver-white hair falls in curtains over her forehead and shoulders and Shizuka feels utterly dumbfounded when one of those blue, blue eyes peeks through the veil of hair and directly at her.
“Ha-hajimemashite,” Shizuka stutters, dropping into an awkward bow.
“She doesn’t speak Japanese,” Kaiba replies flatly.
“Back off, asshole,” Katsuya snaps. “Shizuka’s trying to be polite. You were the one who wanted to introduce us to your girlfriend.”
“Jounouchi-” Yuugi cuts in, before things can get too heated.
Kisara doesn’t seem overtly concerned with Katsuya’s hostile tone, or Kaiba’s derision, or even Anzu and Honda nervously shifting and fidgeting as Yuugi tries his best to smooth things over. She just keeps her eyes locked on Shizuka’s face. Her expression is thoughtful, like she’s mulling something over.
Then Kisara folds her body forward into an elegant bow, mirroring Shizuka’s posture.
“Hajimemashite,” she says, her voice quiet and thick with an accent Shizuka can’t place.
Shizuka can’t help but break into a delighted smile.
“Can’t fuckin’ believe that guy,” Katsuya rants, as he and Shizuka board the train. “Fucking - fucking vanishes for two weeks after using that crazy machine of his to go disturb Atem’s nice peaceful afterlife - doesn’t tell anyone if he’s even gonna be back - Mokuba was beside himself-”
“Mmhm,” Shizuka says absently. She’s heard this particular tirade before.
“Then he comes back and - and sends us a fucking group text. A group text, Shizuka, that dickhead has never texted any of us before, and suddenly it’s all Hey, I’m back from the goddamned afterlife, I want everyone to meet my creepy dragon girlfriend-”
“Is Kisara-san really Kaiba-san’s girlfriend?” Shizuka blurts out, before she can stop herself.
“Uh...” Katsuya is surprised enough by this interjection that it stops him completely in his tracks. “I mean, that’s not exactly how he phrased it,” he admits, scratching the back of his head. “In fact, I always kinda assumed...you know...”
Shizuka knows, and had in fact assumed the same thing herself - that Kaiba had been the unfortunate hypotenuse lurking at the far edge of Yuugi and Atem’s soulmate bond, peering in but never quite allowed to cross that threshold.
“Anyways.” Katsuya clears his throat awkwardly. “So what’d you think of her?”
“Oh.” Shizuka feels a warmth bloom over her cheeks. “I, er, I liked her. Kisara-san. She’s...very pretty, isn’t she?”
Katsuya shrugs. “I guess.”
Pretty had been an understatement - what Shizuka had really wanted to say was beautiful, mysterious, lovely, fairy-like - but Katsuya’s lukewarm reaction brings her crashing back down to Earth, and all she can do is lean her forehead against the cool glass of the train window and watch the buildings zip by.
“I. Cannot. Fuckin’. Believe. That. Guy.”
Katsuya stands ominously in the door to Shizuka’s bedroom, holding their cat Maru in his arms. Maru looks bored.
“What did Kaiba-san do this time?” Shizuka asks, not bothering to look up from her sketchbook.
It’s only been a week since the awkward, stilted gathering in which Kaiba had tersely introduced Kisara to the group, and then unceremoniously departed after an excruciating fifteen minutes in which Yuugi had tried just about every way possible to engage him in friendly small-talk. No one has heard from him since, so Shizuka can’t imagine what he’s possibly done to offend her brother this time. On the other hand, with Katsuya, it could be just about anything - maybe Kaiba has given a particularly obnoxious media interview, or Katsuya had happened to see him on the street making his usual arrogant face.
“He texted me.”
Shizuka hums sympathetically. “Very rude.”
“About you.”
That finally makes Shizuka tear her eyes away from her drawing. “What?”
“Yeah,” Katsuya says, starting to get fired up anew now that she’s actually paying attention. “Fucking creep. I told him to stay the hell away from my baby sister, and that if he ever even spoke your name again I’d-”
“What did he want?” Shizuka asks.
“Doesn’t matter,” Katsuya growls. “You don’t go near that guy, you hear me?”
Shizuka sighs a little. “I’m not going to, onii-chan. I’m just curious.”
Katsuya pauses for a moment. He looks like he’s warring with himself.
“Why did you come in here if you’re not even gonna tell me what he said?” Shizuka pouts. “That’s not fair.”
What’s really not fair is using her adorable-little-sister powers to get what she wants, but hey, Katsuya started it.
“Uuuugghhhh,” Katsuya groans, flopping down on the bed next to her. “I guess he like, wants you to hang out with his girlfriend or something. I dunno. It’s fuckin’ weird.”
Shizuka is very suddenly lost for words.
“He, er...what?”
Katsuya shrugs. “Says she’s kinda lonely and that she took a shine to you. Guess I can understand being lonely when you’re, like, suddenly yanked a couple thousand years into the future and you don’t have a phone or anything, with only the Supreme Jackass around for company...” Katsuya trails off, then pokes her shoulder. “Shizuka?”
Shizuka has been trying very hard not to think about Kisara over the past week - about the endless depth of those blue eyes - “Um,” she says, coughing. “Right. Well, I think it would be a nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“You can’t be serious,” Katsuya protests. “It’s not your problem that Kaiba is so obsessed with dragons that he went to the fuckin’ afterlife and dragged one here back with him. If she’s lonely, he’s just gotta step up and be a responsible dragon owner and spend some time with her-”
“She’s a person,” Shizuka interrupts fiercely. The heat of her tone surprises them both.
An awkward silence settles between them. Shizuka feels a little bad for snapping, but not bad enough to take it back.
“Okay,” Katsuya says, his tone placating. “Uh...okay. If you wanna go see her, I’m not gonna stop you. Just...if Kaiba gives you any problems...”
“I know, you’ll kill him.” Shizuka rolls her eyes goodnaturedly to let Katsuya know that everything is okay between them. Katsuya’s shoulders relax visibly.
Later, when he leaves the room, Shizuka sticks her face in her pillow. She really, really wants to go see Kisara. She tells herself it’s because she’s pissed that Katsuya thinks he had any right to try and stop her.
The Kaiba mansion is a hundred times bigger and fancier than Shizuka had imagined it to be, and she is woefully underdressed.
It’s not that Shizuka hadn’t put care into her appearance that day. In fact, she’d agonized in front of her closet for hours. Kisara doesn’t seem like the type of person who would judge someone’s attire, but Kaiba most certainly is, and Shizuka harbours an irrational fear that if Kaiba finds her lacking she’ll be hurled straight back out of his abode like a ne’er-do-well in an American cartoon. This presents an even more impossible conundrum. Who on Earth knows what passes for appropriate dress with someone whose wardrobe seems to be evenly split between expensive suits, gravity-defying trench coats, and excessive belt buckles?
In the end Shizuka had donned her nicest sundress and smoothed her hair back into a tidy bun. Safe enough.
The problem, she thinks, is her sneakers. It feels like they weigh a hundred pounds each, studded with neon lights, an unavoidable beacon chirping I don’t belong here i don’t belong here i don’t belong. As one of Kaiba’s staff leads her through the mansion’s opulent halls she curses herself yet again for misplacing her nice sandals.
“Go on in, Kawai-san,” the woman guiding her says reassuringly, gesturing towards a thick wooden door. “Shachou and Kisara-sama are waiting for you.”
This phrasing does not prepare Shizuka in the slightest. She hadn’t known what to expect, but what she definitely had not expected was for the staging to be so much like - like a job interview, really.
Kaiba and Kisara are seated side-by-side at the far end of the room, which is (like everything else in the mansion) large and ornate and pristine. There is exactly one chair across from them, which Shizuka supposes is hers.
She sits.
Kaiba is dressed pretty reasonably, by his standards, in an elegant navy blue suit and hideously expensive leather shoes. His posture is as upright and closed-off as ever. Kisara is wearing a lovely dark blue cocktail dress, cut in a graceful A-line that draws attention to her slender shoulders. Her hair is loose, as long and straight and silky and lily-white as Shizuka remembered it. Together they look like the rulers of a modern-day dynasty - cool and impeccable and untouchable and royal.
“Konichiwa,” Shizuka says nervously, unconsciously gripping the skirt of her sundress. She chances a polite smile.
Kisara’s entire face lights up. This time, her hair has been clipped back from her forehead, so Shizuka is allowed the exquisite privilege of observing her delicate features in motion. It’s enchanting.
“Hajimemashite,” Kisara says.
Kaiba leans towards her and begins to speak quickly in another language. It’s unlike anything Shizuka has ever heard before - crisp and throaty, with guttural consonants and a compelling musicality to it.
Kisara laughs. It’s a sweet bell-like little sound. “Konichiwa,” she tries again, a little sheepishly.
Shizuka finds Kaiba’s presence intimidating throughout the entire visit, but he seems to only be interested in serving as a translator. He barely spares Shizuka a glance. It feels more than a little strange relaying casual small talk through Kaiba Seto of all people, and in the end she’s grateful for his dismissive apathy. At least he doesn’t seem to be actively judging her.
At the end of the agreed-upon time, Shizuka rises, bows politely, and turns to leave. As she approaches the door, she hears quick, light footsteps behind her. She turns around.
“Come again soon,” Kisara says, her Japanese hesitant but her tone warm and full of certainty. The phrasing she’s using is off - more akin to a retail employee imploring a customer to return than an exchange between friends - but it’s so charming that Shizuka feels a smile bloom across her face in return.
“I will,” she promises.
Shizuka goes over to the Kaiba mansion a few more times. She’s more careful about her shoes, but it doesn’t really do much to alleviate the rush of nervousness and alienation she feels when stepping through the gates.
“What’s Kaiba’s lair like, anyhow?” Katsuya quizzes her. “I bet it’s like a spooky crypt. Full of ghosts and shit.”
“It’s...not very cozy,” Shizuka admits. “I certainly wouldn’t like to live there.”
“That’s ‘cause you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” Katsuya says affectionately, ruffling her hair. “Don’t get a taste for that fancy crap, you hear me?”
“No danger of that,” Shizuka laughs.
Katsuya looks oddly relieved.
“So you two are...getting along okay?” he prods.
“Yep.”
“And what about Kaiba?”
“What about him?”
Katsuya shuffles uncomfortably. “He’s, uh...treating you okay?”
“Onii-chan,” Shizuka chides, shooting him an annoyed look. “He barely talks to me. He’s just there to translate.”
“It’s not that!” Katsuya protests. “I guess I’m just...wonderin’ what you’re getting out of all this, that’s all.”
The immediate answer that comes to mind is I don’t know, the second is I wish I knew, and the third is I think maybe I know.
“A new friend,” Shizuka replies. It almost feels true.
Kisara’s Japanese is rapidly improving, to the point where she and Shizuka can manage conversation with only the occasional intervention from Kaiba. He continues to attend their visits but seems content to tap away on his laptop and ignore them for the most part.
“Next time,” Kisara says, “let’s go away.”
“Away?” Shizuka replies, giggling nervously.
Kisara laughs too. “Out,” she corrects herself. “Let’s go out together.”
There is really no reason for that sentence to set off a riot of butterflies in Shizuka’s stomach, but alas, it does.
“Yes,” she agrees, maybe a little too quickly. “Where would you like to go?”
“You choose for me,” Kisara says.
“Are you sure?” Shizuka asks. “There must be some places you’re curious about in particular, ne?”
Kisara looks down at her lap, and then glances back up at Shizuka through her lashes. “Anywhere is fine. If it’s with you,” she says shyly.
Shizuka feels her cheeks turn a decidedly unattractive shade of tomato-red, and Kaiba chooses that exact moment to glance up from his computer for the first time that day.
He looks at Shizuka, and then at Kisara, and then goes straight back to typing, his face impassive the entire time.
“Let’s invite Anzu-neechan,” Shizuka blurts. “All three of us can go.”
“Anzu,” Kisara says slowly. She asks Kaiba a question in that beautiful, musical language of theirs. His brow furrows, and his reply is decidedly terse.
Kisara turns back to Shizuka. “Yes,” she agrees, with a warm smile. “Anzu. Anzu is our friend.”
Shizuka feels overwhelmingly relieved, tinged with a little - a tiny, absolutely microscopic - pang of disappointment.
“So Kaiba-kun is coming too?” Anzu laughs, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “Why?”
“I don’t really know,” Shizuka admits. “Kisara-san’s Japanese is much better now. He doesn’t need to translate.”
Anzu shrugs. “Well, he’s protective of people he loves, I guess. So it’ll be like...having a silent, scary bodyguard.” She laughs again, and Shizuka can’t help but join her as she lets that particular mental image run wild in her head.
“Do you...” Shizuka peers down into her frappucino, poking at it idly with her straw. “Do you think Kaiba-san loves Kisara-san, then?”
“You’re the one who actually spends time with them,” Anzu says, playfully pushing Shizuka’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
Shizuka has spent her fair share of time ruminating on this exact question, and she feels that observing them together hasn’t done much to clarify things. Kaiba remains aloof and remote as always, but he does obviously care about Kisara in some capacity, as evidenced by the way he makes time in his insanely packed schedule just to be nearby while Kisara and Shizuka visit on the off-chance he’s needed for something.
“I have no idea,” Shizuka says finally. “Kaiba-san is hard to read.”
“He is and he isn’t,” Anzu replies with a sly grin.
At that moment the devil himself enters the cafe, glowering as usual, but it’s the angelic presence trailing behind him that catches Shizuka’s attention immediately.
“Wow,” Anzu breathes. “She really is something, isn’t she?”
Shizuka nods, a little lost for words. Today Kisara’s long hair has been bundled back into a neat bun. She’s wearing a very pretty sundress in a pale, rosy pink, with a lace collar and a full skirt that swishes around her slender legs. She looks like a combination of a fashion model stepping straight out of a catalogue and a Victorian heroine stepping straight out of a romance novel. Standing next to Kaiba - tall and imposing by her side in a gorgeous tailored suit - the two of them are so striking that nearly every head in the cafe turns their way.
“Konichiwa,” Kisara says, bowing politely. Shizuka can’t be sure if she’s imagining it, but Kisara seems a little nervous.
“It’s so nice to see you again!” Anzu greets her warmly, and then launches into easy chatter, drawing both Shizuka and Kisara into the conversation through the power of her easy friendliness. Kaiba silently disappears and returns minutes later with a cup of coffee for himself, and an herbal tea for Kisara. Then he sets up his laptop at the cafe table and proceeds to completely tune out of the conversation.
Shizuka feels weird about this. It seems impolite not to include him in the outing, even though he’s done his very best to exclude himself.
“How are you, Kaiba-san?” she asks, mustering up all her courage.
For a long moment it seems like Kaiba is going to ignore her. Then he looks up from his laptop.
“What?” is the terse response.
Shizuka blinks. “How...is your week going so far?” She’s not sure how much more straightforward she can make it.
“Do you really want to hear about corporate bullshit?” Kaiba snorts. “Don’t ask insincere questions.” He turns back to his laptop in a clear dismissal.
“Yes, I do,” Shizuka says bravely.
Kaiba doesn’t look up from his laptop, but the rapid movement of his fingers across the keyboard pauses for a moment. “Hn,” he says at last. “If you must know, we’re undergoing a revision of our strategic plan and the board is throwing up obstacles at every turn. Fucking idiots.” With that he goes back to typing.
Shizuka has absolutely no clue what a strategic plan, but she does know firsthand that Kaiba hasn’t had particularly good luck with boards. “I see,” she says sympathetically. “That sounds frustrating.”
Kaiba does ignore her this time, but it’s the longest sustained conversation they’ve ever had, so Shizuka feels pretty accomplished nonetheless and decides to leave him be.
“Your dress is so beautiful,” Anzu is saying to Kisara, as Shizuka focuses back in on their conversation.
Kisara’s reaction is surprising. Her gaze drops down into her lap, and her shoulders seem to shrink in towards her chest. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “But...I am not dressed like anyone else here, am I?”
“Well, no,” Anzu says diplomatically. The coffee shop has a decidedly casual atmosphere, and most of the patrons (including Anzu and Shizuka) are more in the jeans-and-t shirt range. “That’s alright, though. What you’re wearing really suits you.”
Kisara takes a breath. “Today I try to dress like Shizuka-san,” she says, pursing her lips a little. “Maybe I dress wrong for this place?”
Shizuka feels a rush of endearment and embarrassment crash through the hollow of her chest. Kisara’s tidy bun is a near clone of the one Shizuka wears sometimes, and her sundress does indeed slightly resemble one of Shizuka’s - although probably two hundred times more expensive in a way that really shows.
“Oh, I see,” Anzu says kindly. “Of course you wouldn’t have any casual clothing, living with Kaiba-kun and all. Would you like to go shopping?”
“Shopping,” Kisara says, tilting her head. “Like when Seto bring clothing for me?”
“Sort of,” Shizuka says. “Except all three of us go together, and you pick the clothing. You can try it on before you buy it to see if you like it.”
A dazzling grin breaks across Kisara’s face. “We go together?”
“Yes!” Anzu says, smiling back. “We can go now. There’s a mall near here. Kaiba-kun-”
“I heard you,” Kaiba says flatly, eyes still trained on his screen. “I’ll pack up-”
“No need!” Anzu chirps brightly. “You can stay here and work. Unless you really, really want to come shopping with us.”
Kaiba looks almost uncertain for a moment, glancing from Kisara to Shizuka to Anzu. Then he rolls his eyes and grunts in what Shizuka supposes is an affirmative way.
“You have my number,” Kaiba says to Shizuka. “Use it. If necessary.”
The Domino City Mall is really not much compared to some of Tokyo’s other malls - in fact, it’s barely on par with the smallest shopping malls in Ginza or Shibuya - but Kisara’s eyes blow wide as soon as they step through the doors. She stops walking entirely as her gaze pinballs back and forth, between the fountain and the enormous shiny cosmetics store and the pretzel stand.
Finally, she recovers enough to raise her arm and point. “What is that?”
“Ah,” Shizuka says, suppressing a smile. “That’s an escalator. Would you like to try it?”
“Oh, yes,” Kisara breathes.
They ride the escalator up and down a few times. Kisara is surprisingly fearless for someone who has been catapulted into an alien world of technology. The first time she stands in mute silence, carefully watching her feet; by the third time she wants to try walking in the wrong direction to see how far she can make it.
“Maybe if I run, I defeat it?” Kisara suggests, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Kaiba-kun will kill both of us if you hurt yourself,” Anzu laughs. “Let’s try something safer.”
Kisara nods in agreement, but casts one last lingering glance at the escalator as they walk away. Shizuka privately thinks that her expression looks rather like Kaiba’s when he’s itching to take someone down in a duel.
After the escalator, Kisara is most interested in the snack food stands. The three of them try warm pretzels and ice-cream and four different types of popcorn before Anzu even attempts to guide the group back towards their mission.
Something that Shizuka has learned about Kisara over the course of their nascent friendship is that she possesses an utterly singleminded determination, a will of steel under her delicate exterior. The first indicator had been her rapid acquisition of Japanese, a notoriously difficult second language. The second indicator is what Shizuka now recognizes as a research project - Kisara is hellbent on figuring out the modern world, with all the precision and patience of a scientist. It’s evident in the way that she tries a thoughtful bite of pretzel, taking her time to really figure out the taste; the way she stands between two stores selling nearly-identical clothing, clearly trying to parse the difference; even the analytical way she watches groups of chattering girls passing by.
“Back home,” Kisara says, “people go to market just for fun sometimes. It is the same here, yes?”
“That’s right,” Shizuka agrees. It’s always a little startling to realize that when Kisara says back home she means a place thousands of years away.
“I never go,” Kisara continues, casually digging her spoon into her ice-cream. “Never have money, or friends. This is my first time.”
Shizuka smiles shyly. “Anzu-neechan took me to the mall for my first time, too.”
“That’s right!” Anzu laughs. “It wasn’t even that long ago, was it?”
Kisara looks curiously at Shizuka, then at a group of pre-teens sitting at a nearby table.
“I, um, wasn’t allowed to go to the mall when I was that age,” Shizuka says sheepishly, answering the unspoken question. “My mother was very strict. Anzu-neechan took me secretly a few times.” She giggles nervously. “It was...really fun.”
“Fun,” Kisara echoes, that brilliant smile spreading across her features again. “Yes. I am glad to be here with you. My friends.”
Something about the end of her sentence dangles uncertainly in the air.
“Your friends,” Anzu confirms, taking each of their hands and squeezing gently.
Ever since that first fateful trip to the mall, Kisara has thrown all of her considerable scientific determination in the direction of figuring out how to be normal. She asks Shizuka endless questions, some of which seem reasonable and some of which are just confusing - What do friends do together? When is it okay to wear jeans? Why doesn’t Seto eat snacks?
“I don’t know why Kaiba-san doesn’t eat snacks,” Shizuka says, her brow furrowing in thought.
“But that is a normal thing for people our age to do together,” Kisara insists. Shizuka suddenly understands why Kisara has insisted they spend this particular visit sitting on her bed, with everything from shrimp chips to chocolates spread out on the coverlet between them - like something out of a teen movie. “I ask him to eat snacks with us. Seto says he doesn’t like snacks.”
Shizuka laughs. “It’s true that I can’t really picture Kaiba-kun doing something like this.”
Kisara ponders that briefly. “Is Seto normal?”
Shizuka nearly chokes on her bite of chocolate. It takes her a good ten seconds to recover. “Um,” she says dumbly.
“Seto is not normal,” Kisara presses, her lips turning up slyly at the corners.
“Well,” Shizuka hedges. “What is normal, anyways?”
That question seems to throw Kisara for a loop, even though Shizuka had mostly intended it as a deflection. She purses her lips in thought, poking listlessly at the package of pudding in front of her.
“You don’t know?” Kisara says after a moment, her voice uncertain.
Shizuka feels a little out of her depth. She had really not been prepared for this conversation. She takes a steadying breath and ploughs ahead anyways. “Do you remember when we went to the mall, and I told you I wasn’t allowed to go when I was young?”
“Yes,” Kisara says, nodding vigorously. “Your mother was very strict.”
Shizuka is both surprised and pleased that Kisara has bothered to remember that small detail. “Yes,” she agrees. “But there was a reason for it. When I was young, I was very sick. It made my mother worried, so she tried her best to protect me. I wish...” Shizuka sighed and shook her head. “Well. She did what she thought was best. But I missed out on a lot of things growing up, and then later it felt like I was always trying to catch up with everyone else.”
Kisara is watching her with rapt, entranced attention. It emboldens Shizuka a little, even though she feels deeply embarrassed at having rambled about herself so much.
“What I’m trying to say is,” she forges on, “every person in this world has their own life and circumstances. What’s normal for Anzu isn’t necessarily what’s normal for me, or my brother, or Honda-kun or Yuugi-kun or Kaiba-san. It’s okay to just be who you are and live at your own pace.”
“Maybe...I don’t know who I am in this place.” Kisara bites her lip and casts her eyes down.
“What do you mean?” Shizuka prompts, as gently as she can.
Kisara fiddles with the hem of her sweater - one that Anzu had picked for her, with a cute cartoon bear character on the front. Kaiba is visibly appalled by this particular sweater, which Kisara seems to enjoy, so she wears it often.
“Back home,” Kisara says hesitantly, “I like to eat nqawt. My favourite smell is mhyt plant. Those things cannot be found here. I tell Seto this, and he offer to buy those plants and put them in the garden. But, I make a choice to come here and leave my old home.” She shrugs. “Maybe the me of before only like those things because they were taste and smell of home. Now that this is my home, should I not find new things to like?”
Shizuka mulls that over for a while, then she offers Kisara a shrimp chip. Kisara takes it and bites down daintily.
“You don’t like it,” Shizuka observes. “I can tell.”
Kisara grins sheepishly and shakes her head.
“That’s okay,” Shizuka continues. “You tried it, and you didn’t like it. Maybe you try every single snack in Japan and you find that you still like nqawt more than anything else. You can exist here and still carry pieces of home with you. You’re still Kisara no matter what.”
A long silence stretches between them, but it’s comfortable. Peaceful.
“You call me Kisara,” Kisara says. “Just now. Without san.”
“Oh,” Shizuka stutters. “Er...”
“Seto calls me Kisara too,” Kisara continues. “I ask him why some people are san and some people are kun and some people are nothing at all. Seto say - he said - you can take off san when you are close to someone.”
This answer surprises Shizuka. Kaiba’s disregard for honorifics is pretty much in line with his excessively rude speech patterns, and it would have never occurred to her that he’d put any more thought into the matter. “I’m sorry,” Shizuka apologizes reflexively. “I didn’t mean to presume...”
“I like it,” Kisara interrupts with a wide smile. “Can I call you Shizuka? We are close, yes?”
“Yes,” Shizuka agrees, her cheeks flaming, but her lips curving into a matching smile.
The next time she visits, Kisara presents her with a bowl of little round red fruits.
“Nqawt,” Kisara says shyly, gesturing towards the fruit. Shizuka obligingly bites into one. It may be the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted.
Shizuka has been spending more and more time at the Kaiba mansion lately. The security guards now recognize her and let her pass without question. Katsuya has stopped fretting for the most part when she goes over there, although he makes sure to remind her frequently that Kaiba is no good, you hear me and that if that asshole ever makes you uncomfortable, you tell me and I’ll beat his ass, et cetera et cetera.
Kaiba does make Shizuka feel a little uncomfortable, but not by way of anything he does or says. It’s moreso the fact that he is very large, has a naturally scary facial expression, and barely speaks a word to her one way or the other. The effect is rather like visiting a home haunted by an exceptionally tall spectre seen only occasionally in passing.
However, Shizuka has been gathering data of her own.
Data point the first: Kaiba is capable of carrying on a conversation that isn’t Duel Monsters-related. Kisara relays secondhand accounts of their conversations all the time. He is apparently knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects.
Data point the second: Kaiba is capable of being kind. Shizuka has seen the evidence of this with her own eyes; anyone can tell that he adores Mokuba, and he’s always gentle and patient with Kisara. In fact, Kaiba is even reasonably considerate of Shizuka herself, in his own gruff way - he always makes sure she has a ride home if it’s dark or the weather is poor.
Data point the third: Kaiba does not seem to dislike Shizuka nearly as much as he dislikes her brother, and in fact has entirely stopped insulting Katsuya to Shizuka’s face.
Shizuka decides she can work with that. Mission: Befriend Kaiba Seto is officially underway.
“How was your day?” Shizuka asks him one day, hopping up onto a stool at the kitchen island.
“What?” Kaiba says, his tone clipped and terse as usual. He seems to have only ventured out of his home office for a cup of coffee, and looks profoundly annoyed to have been spotted.
Shizuka smiles and waits patiently. She knows he’d heard her.
“Passable,” he grunts after a moment. A long pause, then: “Yours?”
It’s not much, but it’s something.
Shizuka doesn’t feel like she’s a particularly exceptional person. She’s not really talented at anything and she doesn’t have an ambitious life goal figured out quite yet. One thing she does have in spades, though, is persistence.
So she keeps asking Kaiba about his day, until she’s more-or-less conditioned him to expect the question. Sometimes he gives her a brusque one-word answer. Sometimes he’ll branch out a little into whatever is vexing him that particular day. Often he’ll return the query. Shizuka keeps her answers short and sweet, not wanting to push his limits for social interaction.
From there, the next obvious step is to coax him into spending time with her and Kisara every now and again. Kaiba had apparently decided months ago that his services as a translator were no longer needed and these days tends to leave the girls to their own devices. The first time Shizuka invites him to watch a movie with them, he stares at her like she’s grown a third head. Kisara tries next time and is met again with confusion and annoyance. Shizuka tries the time after that. So on, and so forth, until he finally realizes they’re not going to give up.
And that is how Shizuka finds herself in the expansive home theatre of the Kaiba mansion, crammed onto a couch with both Kaiba brothers and Kisara, even though there are plenty of other places to sit.
Kaiba points this out in a vexed tone.
“It’s not a movie night if we don’t all sit together,” Mokuba counters, cheerfully undeterred. “Have some popcorn.”
“No,” Kaiba says.
“Nii-sama,” Mokuba says patiently, “you’re fucking up the vibe. Do not fuck up the vibe.”
“Vibe?” Kisara ventures, tilting her head in that adorable way of hers.
“Agree with me, Kisa-chan,” Mokuba prods. “Tell my brother not to fuck up the vibe.”
“Okay,” Kisara agrees. “Seto, do not-”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Kaiba orders. “Mokuba, watch your fucking language.”
Shizuka can’t help it. She bursts out laughing.
“Is something funny, Kawai?” Kaiba says flatly. Shizuka claps her hands over her mouth in horror.
There’s a moment of silence, and then she notices the tiniest quirk at the corner of his lips.
“You’re teasing me,” she accuses.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kaiba snorts. “Mokuba, if you don’t start this movie in ten seconds I’m leaving. I have better things to do.”
In Kisara’s quest to find out exactly who she is in the context of modern-day Japan, she has made a very important discovery: she loves horror movies.
(Shizuka does not, but she’s past pretending she won’t watch just about anything for Kisara’s sake.)
So they make it through The Grudge. Shizuka does her best not to scream and ends up seeing most of the movie through the gaps in her fingers. Kaiba deserts them the second the end credits roll and Mokuba leaves shortly after. Shizuka and Kisara are too keyed up to sleep afterwards, so instead of going to bed they stay up chatting on the couch with all the lights on.
Shizuka wakes up the next morning to late-morning sunlight filtering in through the window. She and Kisara had fallen asleep with their heads on opposite ends of the couch, feet just barely touching. There is a quilt draped over both of them, carefully tucked in at their shoulders.
“No,” Shizuka says in horror, recoiling and putting her hands up defensively.
“Yes,” Kisara insists. She puts the scissors down on the floor between them and pushes them towards Shizuka.
“I-I can’t,” Shizuka stammers. “Please don’t make me.”
“Why not?” Kisara tilts her head. “It’s not hard. If you don’t do it, I do it myself.”
“No!” Shizuka protests.
Kisara frowns. She picks up a strand of her long, silvery hair, examines it for a moment, and then lets it drop again.
“You think I will look bad with short hair,” she says. There’s something so nakedly dejected in her tone that it surprises Shizuka.
“Oh, no, it’s - it’s not that,” Shizuka insists. “No! You would be beautiful with any kind of hair.”
Kisara looks up at her again. The pink tinge is unmistakable on her pale cheeks.
“Um,” Shizuka continues, “I just...shouldn’t we go to a hair salon?”
“No,” Kisara says. “I want you to do it.”
Shizuka has always known that Kisara is a stubborn person, but it’s so easy to get taken in and enchanted by the soft musical voice and those enormous blue eyes that sometimes you don’t even realize you’re losing the battle until it’s too late. This is one of those times. Shizuka sighs in defeat.
“Compromise,” Shizuka offers. “We do it together with supervision.” Kisara’s eyes light up with glee.
Kaiba calls Shizuka practically the second they step out of the gate.
“Where are you two going?” he demands.
“What? How did you know?”
“Answer my question.”
“Why are you calling me and not Kisara?” Shizuka stalls, as they continue walking down the long driveway.
“Don’t fuck around, Kawai. I’m in the middle of a meeting, I don’t have time for this.”
“Oh, look,” Kisara says airily, taking her phone out of her pocket. “I missed some calls.”
“Tell her I know she’s screening my calls.”
Shizuka looks nervously at Kisara.
“I am not good with these devices,” Kisara says innocently. “Tell Seto I am so sorry.”
“I’m...not getting in the middle of this,” Shizuka mumbles, thrusting her mobile at Kisara’s face.
A rapid-fire conversation begins in what Shizuka now knows is Middle Egyptian. She of course can’t understand any of it. Kisara looks completely unperturbed, but Kaiba is speaking so loudly Shizuka can hear him through the receiver.
“OK,” Kisara says in Japanese, with a huge smile on her face. “Thank you, Seto!”
Kaiba is still talking when she hangs up on him. She hands the phone back to Shizuka.
“So...he’s letting us go?” Shizuka asks nervously.
“Let us?” Kisara laughs. “He is not our father, is he? We can go wherever we like, and I would like to go on the bus. I tell - I told him that.”
Kisara is utterly delighted with the entire public transit experience, possibly moreso than she has been with any other modern wonder. She makes Shizuka explain bus routes to her in detail - How do they know where you want to go? Is there a bus for every single place in this city? What if you want to go to a place that no buses stop at? They all look the same, how do you know which one to ride? - and watches, enthralled, as other passengers pull the stop cable and the little indicator lights up. When it’s their turn to disembark, Kisara pulls the stop cable like she’s been training her whole life for it, and then insists on going up front to bow and profusely thank the driver before getting off.
“Do you take the bus often, Shizuka?” Kisara wants to know, practically skipping as they finish the last leg of their journey.
“Well, yes,” Shizuka admits with a laugh. “I take it to school.”
“If I had places to go, I would take the bus every time,” Kisara says. “You are so lucky.”
Shizuka ponders that. Usually people who predominantly ride the bus aren’t referred to as ‘lucky.’
“Have we arrived?” Kisara asks, squinting at Shizuka’s GPS app and then back up at the apartment building.
“We have,” Shizuka confirms, smiling and pressing the buzzer. They’re admitted through the front doors, and make their way into the elevator in the lobby. It’s quite a nice apartment building - nothing like the Kaiba mansion, of course, but nicer than the apartment Shizuka and her brother share, which doesn’t have an elevator at all.
“Well, helloooo,” Mai sings, opening the door and promptly wrapping them both in an embrace. “You’re looking so grown-up these days, aren’t you, Shizuka-chan? And you must be Kisara.”
“Hey, you two!” Anzu calls from somewhere behind her.
“Anzu-neechan?” Shizuka says, as Mai guides them into her gorgeous modern apartment. “What are you doing here?”
“I called her just after you called me,” Mai says, winking saucily. “Couldn’t let her miss out on this.”
“Are we going to eat snacks together?” Kisara says excitedly.
Mai throws an arm around Kisara and plants a kiss to the side of her head. “Oh, honey, you bet we are.”
Mai has been cutting Katsuya’s hair for years, although her repeated pleas for him to stop frying it with bleach have been roundly ignored. She has everything they need in her large, elegant bathroom, but they start out sprawled on her living room floor with fashion magazines and bags of chips spread out around them.
“Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve looked at fashion magazines with friends,” Anzu laughs. “So retro.”
“Quit making me feel old, you little punk,” Mai complains. “Anyways, there’s something special about them, you know?”
They spend an hour going through various hairstyles until Kisara picks one she likes - a simple but stylish bob. Then they all troop into the bathroom to get started.
“Are you sure I can do this, Mai-san?” Shizuka asks, fiddling with a lock of her own hair.
“Don’t worry,” Mai teases, “I’ll take over if things start to go up in flames.”
“In flames?” Kisara sounds alarmed. “Will we burn my hair off?”
After they’ve assured Kisara that no, there is little to no fire involved in modern hairdressing, it’s time to begin. Mai shows Shizuka how to section the hair off and clip it out of the way, and helps her understand how to angle the scissors and where to start the cut. Anzu sits on the edge of the bathtub calling out encouragement and praise. Between the two of them they all but completely put Shizuka’s nerves to rest.
(The way her stomach flutters at the faintly spicy smell and silky texture of Kisara’s hair can’t really be helped, but that’s fine.)
“You keep looking at me,” Kisara says, as they step off the bus and start the walk back to the Kaiba mansion.
“Oh-” Shizuka falters, then sucks in a breath through her teeth. This is no big deal. She and Anzu compliment each other all the time.
“You’re beautiful, that’s all,” she says, trying to inject a nonchalance into her words that she’s pretty sure she doesn’t even possess.
“Ah,” Kisara replies. Then she sidles close to Shizuka and slips her arm into the crook of Shizuka’s elbow.
“I saw this in the fashion magazine,” she says, sounding a touch too cheerful. “Normal for girls, yes?”
“Yes,” Shizuka agrees, thankful for the dusky sky hiding the colour of her face.
When they step in through the doors, one of the maids is there to greet them. “Your presence is requested in Shachou’s study,” she says, bowing respectfully.
The maid hadn’t really specified if both of them had been requested - Shizuka suspects not - but Kisara hasn’t unlinked their arms yet, and is in fact tugging her in the direction of the study.
Kaiba is sitting at his desk, with his elbows on the wooden surface and his fingers laced together. He looks up sharply as they enter, and Shizuka can tell he’s taking in every detail of the scene: Kisara’s hair, their linked arms, the nervous fidgeting that Shizuka can’t help but lapse into.
He looks at them for a long, long time, and then lets out a heavy sigh, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers.
“Are you unhappy here, Kisara?” he says.
Kisara looks taken aback. “No,” she says. “Of course not. Seto, why would you ask this?”
“Mokuba and I have our own stylist,” Kaiba replies, sounding exhausted. “I’ve offered to have him come to the manor any time you like. Why did you feel the need to risk your safety on public transit and refuse to tell me your destination?”
“Why does she need to tell you where she’s going?” Shizuka says, the tone of her voice surprising everyone in the room, herself most of all.
Kaiba glares up at her, as if weighing whether she’s worth a response. “Kawai,” he says, “did you not just hear what I said about public-”
“I heard,” Shizuka interrupts him angrily. “You know, for most of us peasants, public transit is a fact of life. You don’t have to be so ridiculous about it.”
“I’ll buy you a car, then, and you two can drive around all you like,” Kaiba says, rolling his eyes. “Assuming you can even drive.”
“I don’t want a car,” Shizuka argues loudly. “I want you to trust Kisara more and let her be her own person. She’s your girlfriend, not your daughter-”
“Shizuka,” Kisara says, glancing at her with wide eyes and squeezing her arm.
“Girlfriend?” Kaiba snorts. “And I should’ve known. You’re just like your brother, with too much unwarranted pride to accept any advantages thrown your way.”
Shizuka’s pride is not the only way in which she is like her brother. While it’s buried much, much deeper, there’s also her temper.
So she picks up a book from the end table next to her, yells “Fuck you!” and hurls it as hard as she can.
Kaiba doesn’t flinch as it sails past his head and hits the wall behind him with an echoing thud. Shizuka doesn’t wait for his reaction. She turns and runs.
“Shizuka,” Katsuya says, sitting gingerly on the edge of her bed.
Shizuka pretends to be asleep.
“I know you’re not asleep,” Katsuya says sternly, poking her shoulder. “And I know you’re not sick either.”
“Am too,” Shizuka mutters, not lifting her face from her pillow. Maybe if she can keep it there long enough, she’ll just suffocate to death and all her problems will be solved.
“I dunno what’s going on with you,” Katsuya continues, “but you gotta stop skipping class. Or, er, I don’t mean you can’t skip class. You can skip all the classes you want, it’s college, no one cares. I know you’re smart enough to catch up. Just...you gotta do something. Come with me to the convience store. We can get some snacks, watch a movie-”
“No snacks,” Shizuka says fiercely, thumping her pillow for good measure.
“Uh...okay, no snacks,” Katsuya agrees. “But you have to get up, or I’m gonna make you get up.”
Shizuka rolls away from him, calling his bluff.
“I told you, Shizu,” Katsuya says, mischief creeping into his tone. “I told you I was gonna do it. You can’t complain now.”
“Noooo,” Shizuka groans, as he wrestles his arms around her waist and manages to extract her from her blanket coccoon. “Katsuya, stop!”
Katsuya laughs maniacally. “Too late!” He throws her over his shoulder in one fluid motion.
“Stop, stop,” Shizuka giggles, pounding his back with her fists. “Not fair!”
“If you went to the gym with me you’d be able to fight back! It’s your fault for being so tiny!”
“Put me down!”
“We’re going to the convenience store,” Katsuya sings, nudging the front door open with his hip. “Hell yeah!”
They garner a fair few looks on the way there, even after Shizuka gives up and quits fighting her fate. She waves sheepishly to a few pedestrians, and Katsuya sings his dumb made-up convenience store song the whole way, and she remembers about halfway there that she never changed out of her gross sweaty pyjamas. Katsuya puts her down just before they enter the store, but on the way back home she makes him give her a piggyback ride anyways.
“Now you gotta tell me about your problems,” Katsuya says, once they’re sitting across from each other on the living room floor. Shizuka had caved on her no-snacks stance - in fact, she’d more than caved, she’d done a complete one-eighty, and now Katsuya is slowly pushing a tub of ice cream towards her and waggling his eyebrows. “We’re gonna eat ice cream and you’re gonna tell me who I have to go kill.”
Katsuya is really her favourite person on Earth. He’s so goofy and sincere and determined and earnest and kind and tough, all of the things she wishes she could be wrapped up into one angel of a human being, and as she looks into those warm brown eyes all crinkled up at the corners she’s surprised to feel tears coursing down her face.
“Oh, hey,” Katsuya says. “Aw, hey, hey. C’mere, kid.” He lifts her right into his lap, as if she were twelve again, and plants a big smacking kiss on her forehead. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna. Crying is okay too.”
Shizuka does want to talk, desperately, she’s been wanting to talk for weeks and months and years but has been carefully pushing everything down into a compact little box somewhere at the base of her diaphragm, packing everything in neatly again and again until nothing else would fit, and now the little box has sprung open and she has no idea how she’s going to get the lid back on.
“What do you do,” she sniffles, “if you love someone, but they love someone else?”
Katsuya is silent for a moment. “Well,” he says finally, “I’d say if they don’t love you back, they’re a fuckin’ idiot, and they don’t deserve you anyways.”
“They’re not an idiot,” Shizuka says desperately, breaking into a fresh round of sobs. “What if they’re the most - the most wonderful person you’ve ever met, and you’re never going to meet someone like that again, and it hurts to be around them but also you don’t want to be anywhere else...” she trails off, hiccupping and sniffling into the sodden front of Katsuya’s t-shirt.
“Oh, god,” Katsuya groans. “Look, Shizuka, I’m really tryin’ here, but hearing you say that about Kaiba hurts my soul - I swear, you can find someone better than that disgusting creep-”
“What?” Shizuka pulls back a little, startled.
“Look,” Katsuya says, his voice strained. “I get it, okay? I know that’s why you’re over at his crypt all the time these days. I’m not...” he takes a deep breath. “I’m not angry, I’m just...well, I’m a little angry, but not at you...”
“It’s not Kaiba-san,” Shizuka says, before she can stop herself. “It’s Kisara.”
“Oh.” Katsuya blinks, and then his shoulders sag.
Shizuka ducks her head. “Are you...disappointed?”
“Oh, god no,” Katsuya sighs, hugging her tighter. “I’m so relieved I could cry. Thank god. Whew!” He plants another kiss to the side of her head. “You dummy. I’ve been with a guy for years. Why’d you think you couldn’t tell me, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Shizuka says.
“It’s ‘cause Mom flipped out when she found out I was dating Ryou, isn’t it?” Katsuya says bitterly. “Bet she scared the living daylights out of you. Damn. That woman...”
“Katsuya,” Shizuka says quietly.
“I know, I know,” Katsuya mumbles. Then he brightens. “Hey, Kisara and Ryou look a little bit alike, don’t they? With the white hair and all. You and me have a type!”
Shizuka laughs, just a little at first, and then she’s laughing so hard that she’s also kind of crying at the same time, but it’s okay because the box in her chest is emptying and overflowing into the parts of her heart that have been begging to be filled.
I appear to have offended you. I assure you it wasn’t intentional.
Shizuka stares at the text, sitting at the very top of her pile of unread messages and missed calls.
She wonders if anyone else other than Mokuba has received something so close to an apology from Kaiba Seto, and despite herself she feels deeply touched by it. But also a little exasperated, because a week has passed already.
The stack of missed calls from Kisara had only added to her shame and panic-induced avoidance. She’d acted like a ridiculous child, getting angry about something she didn’t have any right to be involved in. She’d projected some pretty deep-seated issues onto Kaiba Seto of all people, and Kisara had seen it all. Shizuka felt that there was no way she could ever enter that home again.
For some reason, this awkward, perfunctory text is the one that makes her feel like - maybe, just maybe, she could march over there and put things right.
So she does. At ten p.m. on a Thursday night, pausing only to throw on a baggy sweater over her t-shirt and leggings ensemble, leaving her messy uncombed hair down because she’s afraid that if she takes two minutes to hunt for a hairtie she’s going to lose her nerve.
The gate opens to let Shizuka in before she can even buzz. She’s aware that Kaiba has security cameras installed to cover every inch of the manor, and she wonders if he’s watching her walk up the drive like a bewildered cave creature who’s just stumbled back into society.
“Kawai-san,” the maid says, bowing and not letting on any surprise at Shizuka’s appearance or strange timing. “Shachou is waiting for you in his study.”
“Um, is Kisara there, too?” Shizuka asks.
“Kisara-sama is asleep,” the maid says. “I can take a message for her if you would like.”
“No, that’s okay,” Shizuka says, and then hurries onwards before she can say any more stupid things.
Kaiba is in exactly the same position he’d been when she’d stormed out a week ago, right down to the elbows on the desk and the laced fingers. It’s as if he’s been here, frozen, the entire time.
He doesn’t speak, just looks at her, his expression inscrutable.
“I’m very sorry, Kaiba-san,” Shizuka says, bowing low. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, obscuring her face.
Kaiba laughs - a short, genuine peal of amusement, something she’s never heard from him before.
“Um...” Shizuka peeks up through her hair. “Is something funny?”
“This is rather familiar, isn’t it,” Kaiba says, folding his arms and smirking.
It had never occurred to Shizuka that Kaiba would remember the first time they’d spoken. The event had stuck in her memory for a long time, of course - the pounding nerves she’d felt after daring to confront the President of Kaiba Corporation, the way Honda and Otogi had congratulated her, even though she felt like she hadn’t done anything useful at all - but she’d assumed that Kaiba hadn’t spared her a second thought.
“Yes,” Shizuka says, straightening up and chancing a shy smile.
Kaiba gestures to the chair across the desk from him. “Sit,” he orders.
Shizuka sits. Kaiba scrutinizes her for another moment. Something about his expression is slightly less intimidating than it had been just minutes before.
“Kisara and I are soulmates,” he says finally.
“I know,” Shizuka replies miserably, clutching the hem of her sweatshirt and staring down into her lap. She feels hot tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.
“You’re not listening, Kawai,” Kaiba lectures. “Don’t jump to conclusions before I’ve finished talking.”
“Okay,” Shizuka whispers, unable to look up.
“We have a bond that transcends time and dimensions,” Kaiba continues, his voice deep and even. “Kisara is very important to me, and I assume the feeling is mutual.”
Shizuka nods. Her throat tightens.
Kaiba sighs in what sounds like exasperation. “I cannot believe I have to explain this to you, but people can be important to each other without romantic sentiment.” He spits out the last two words, like they’ve personally offended him. “I assume you have such people in your life, do you not?”
Finally, Shizuka dares to look up. “What are you saying, Kaiba-san?”
Kaiba rolls his eyes. “I’m saying I’m not an idiot, Kawai. Go talk to her, for fuck’s sakes, or I’m going to have you thrown out of my mansion.”
Shizuka stands abruptly, her grip on her sweatshirt so tight that her knuckles have lost colour. “It’s...it’s okay with you?”
“It doesn’t need to be,” Kaiba snaps. “You’re both adults. It’s none of my business.” His cool blue eyes meet Shizuka’s, wide with terror and shiny with tears. His face softens a little. “You have my blessing, if that’s what you need to hear,” he says gruffly. “Now get out of my sight.”
“Hello,” Shizuka says lamely.
Kisara stands in the doorway to her bedroom, wearing duck-printed pyjama shorts and her cartoon bear sweater. She takes one look at Shizuka, bursts into tears, and flings herself into Shizuka’s arms.
“I thought maybe you hate me,” she sobs into Shizuka’s shoulder. “You don’t - you didn’t answer my calls.”
“I don’t hate you,” Shizuka wobbles, another round of tears spilling down her cheeks. “Actually, Kisara, I - um, I -”
“I missed you,” Kisara interrupts. “I miss you every time you go. This time was too long. I want to talk to you every day, and, and...” she sniffles. “And always walk with you holding your arm, and...”
“Me too,” Shizuka admits, burying her face into Kisara’s soft hair. “I want those things too. And more. I love you, Kisara, I really do.”
Kisara pulls back a little, her expression stunned. “Love?” she says.
It’s too late to back out now. Shizuka takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she says, her voice steady. “I love you as more than a friend. I want us to be together.” Shizuka hopes that her feelings are pushing across the cultural barrier, the linguistic barrier, the barriers she herself has created out of fear and denial - that Kisara will understand exactly what she means, even if she doesn’t feel the same way.
Kisara tilts her head, studying Shizuka’s face for a moment. There’s something of Kaiba in that expression, Shizuka muses idly; something inquisitive and almost calculating.
Then she leans forward and very gently presses her lips against Shizuka’s. Her kiss is light and sweet and tastes of nqawt.
“That’s some of the most pathetic code I’ve ever seen,” Kaiba says, looming over Shizuka’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Shizuka protests, trying to cover her notebook. “We can’t all be computer geniuses. This is just an elective, anyways.”
“There’s no such thing as just an elective.” Kaiba folds his arms. “You’re paying money for this class, are you not? Why throw away a perfectly good learning opportunity by doing sloppy work?”
Shizuka scowls up at him. “Are you going to help, or are you just going to lecture me?”
Kaiba leans over and snatches her pen right out of her hands. “Name your variables properly,” he says, scribbling out some of her code and replacing it with his own freakishly neat handwriting. “Be very specific in variable naming, or it’s going to come back to haunt you later. What if someone else has to work on a version of this code later? How are they supposed to know what x means?”
Shizuka resists the urge to point out that no one else will be working on her code because it’s an assignment. “Okay,” she agrees, nodding earnestly to show him that she’s paying attention.
“And look at this,” Kaiba scoffs, folding his long frame down into the chair next to her. “You can’t nest functions like that. When you try to call this subroutine, it’s going to cause a recursive loop from hell.”
“What’s a recursive loop?”
“A critical failure, for your purposes.”
“Shizuka!” Kisara squeals, sprinting into the kitchen and hurling herself directly into Shizuka’s lap. “Hello, Seto!”
“Hello,” Kaiba says distractedly, now fully immersed in the task of correcting Shizuka’s rat’s nest of a coding assignment. He absently unhooks a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and slips them on over his nose.
Shizuka is now thoroughly distracted as well, as Kisara plants tiny little kisses all over her face - the corners of her eyes, the tip of her nose, the hollow just under her cheekbone.
“How was your day?” Shizuka says, pressing her lips to the back of Kisara’s hand.
“I can make a latte,” Kisara says excitedly. “Maybe you know this already, but there is a machine that makes a horrible loud sound, brrrrrrrrrkkkttt -” here, she does a loud, startling and uncanny imitation of a commercial milk steamer that makes Kaiba flinch, “-and the milk comes out very...what’s the word. Very fluffy. If you mix it with coffee in the right way, it tastes like...” Kisara purses her lips. “Stf-ym?”
“Foam,” Kaiba corrects.
Kisara’s latest venture into Researching the Entire World has been to land herself a job at a local coffee shop. Kaiba had done his absolute best to talk her out of it, then he had offered to let her shadow the baristas at the coffee shop in the KaibaCorp lobby, and then he had hinted he could get her a job at one of the upscale cafes in the financial district.
Kisara wanted to work at the coffee shop run by college students that displayed local art on the walls and took pride in its shabby decor and eccentric background music. She also wanted to take the bus there and back every day. Kisara won on both counts.
“Foam,” Kisara agrees, leaning over nosily to look at Shizuka’s notebook. “What are you doing, Seto? Are you helping? Ah, so kind-”
“I just can’t stand to look at shitty code,” Kaiba huffs, slamming the notebook closed. “Finish the rest yourself, Kawai, or you’re never going to learn anything. Both of you get ready for dinner.”
“I am ready,” Kisara says with a shrug.
“You can’t wear your work apron.”
“Why not? Shizuka is wearing her school sweater because she is proud to attend that school, yes? I’m proud to work at the cafe, so shouldn’t I show that too?”
Kisara wins this round, as well, and Katsuya can’t help but burst out laughing when she and Shizuka enter the restaurant hand-in-hand trailed by a very annoyed Kaiba.
“Looking good, you two,” Mokuba says, smirking as they sit down. Like his brother, he’s wearing an expensive suit. Katsuya is in denim cutoffs and a muscle shirt with mustard stains on it.
“I can’t believe you of all people are laughing,” Kaiba snarks, opening his menu with perhaps a little too much force.
“Aw, lighten up, douchebag,” Katsuya cackles. “It’s just a family dinner.”
Shizuka knows he’s just saying it to get a reaction out of Kaiba - and he does, as Kaiba visibly bristles - but the words set off a bloom of warmth in her chest that spreads all the way down to her fingertips, entwined with Kisara’s under the table.