"Sevenfold" Red: Envy.
Series: Sevenfold
Color: Red
Sin: Envy
Chapter Title: She Talks to Angels (4/49)
Word Count: 1585
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Red:Envy
Mokuba was almost bouncing out of his seat as the sleek, black limo pulled up to their destination.
“Calm down,” Seto instructed, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “This is a high-class function, and I want you to behave.”
“All right, all right,” Mokuba agreed, nodding as he stared eagerly out the window. “But I’m so excited! It’s going to be great!” He looked at Seto over his shoulder and smiled. “I haven’t seen Anzu in so long- I bet she’s gonna be great! She’s so pretty and smart. And she’s a great dancer, too!”
Seto sighed. “Mokuba. I wasn’t aware you were such a fan of ballet.”
Mokuba’s cheeks heated up. “W-well, I...” He looked down, turning redder. “I-I can like it if I want to.”
Seto refrained from an undignified snort. All the classic symptoms were there: the bashful smiles, the blushing at any mention of her name, the lavish praises bestowed on one who clearly didn’t deserve them. It was obvious that Mokuba had a crush on Mazaki. Even if he didn’t approve- which, of course, he didn’t- Seto didn’t mind humoring his little brother. Nothing could come of it, so there was no harm in a small indulgence. The boy deserved it.
With a discreet nod, the driver opened the door for the two Kaibas. Mokuba scrambled out, wrinkling the small black suit that had been purchased specifically for that occasion. Seto sighed at his brother’s carelessness, but merely blamed the high-spirits of youth. The very ones he had managed to avoid. With a great deal more grace, Seto followed his brother. They presented their tickets and were led to their seats.
“Is it about to start?” Mokuba asked excitedly, fidgeting nervously on the cushy red velvet that covered their chairs. He sat on his hands and bit his lip to contain himself. “Oh, I can’t wait to see Anzu! I bet she’s going to be great! She told me she had a solo, you know; she’s the best dancer ever!”
Seto nodded absent-mindedly, barely listening to his brother’s stream of babble. If Mokuba was that determined to enjoy himself, then far be it from his stuffy older brother to deny him one meager evening’s pleasure. Naturally, Seto was already convinced that he’d be bored with what he was convinced would be- at best- a mediocre performance.
A few minutes later, the lights began to dim. Mokuba smiled eagerly, and focused all his attention towards the stage. (They had a perfect view, of course, as Seto would settle for nothing less than amazing seats.) The conductor lowered his baton and the curtain rose.
As anticipated- by at least one of the on-lookers- the beginning was mildly entertaining but nothing spectacular. Pretty, perhaps; well-staged, even... But certainly nothing more than that.
“Seto,” Mokuba whispered worriedly. “When’s Anzu gonna come on? What if something happened to her? Do you think-“
“Hush,” Seto commanded harshly, leaning in closer to his brother so he could keep his voice low. “The show’s only begun; you’ll see her soon enough.”
And, just as he had said she would, Anzu finally appeared.
Mokuba watched her with rapt attention, his eyes fervently glowing with unconditional adoration. He clearly thought her the most beautiful, marvelous thing on the planet, and nothing could have torn him away. And even though he was far from an expert, even Mokuba could tell that her execution of the routine was nearly flawless. (Seto would later learn that he had even gone to the troubling of studying the dance styles he knew she studied just for the occasion.)
Much to his dismay, Seto found himself forming the same conclusion. Mazaki was not good; Mazaki was excellent. She moved like water: fluid and graceful and smooth. She was graceful, every movement refined. She was light on her feet, moving across air- gliding above the floor as though she was touching it at all.
The dark, crimson-red outfit she wore highlighted her pale skin, adding a splash of color to her movement. The thin, sheer shirt fluttered across her hips, unable to keep up with the fleetness of its wearer.
But the look on her face... The look on her face was like nothing he had ever seen.
Seto had not been brought up to appreciate simple pleasures. He had never been one to stop and admire beauty. Awe was a feeling he never experienced; wonder was completely foreign to him. But seeing the soft smile on Anzu’s face, the eyes that would close in pure pleasure, the obvious joy radiating from her- it made his heart pound.
She was in ecstacy- she was utterly rapturous as she twirled around on the stage. That was why so many people loved to watch her; she was skilled, yes, but it was the pure enjoyment she had for dance that made her performances so amazing. Anyone who saw her could tell immediately that she truly loved what she did. She was in love with dance.
Mokuba gasped in pleased surprise as Anzu suddenly did some sort of complicated spin. (The only move in dance Seto had ever even remotely heard of was a pirouette- and he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly that was.) Seto felt his heart clench at the sight. How did she manage to make Mokuba so happy? Was the joy she radiated contagious? Did Mokuba share her love, catching it just through observation? There was something almost magical about the night, he felt it then. Had he really ever viewed the exquisite creature on the stage with disdain? How could something so unearthly be beneath his notice?
Seto had never experienced feelings like that- he could only imagine how Mazaki felt up there, under the lights, as he had never, ever been privileged enough to feel such a thing himself. What right did she have to be so happy? What right did she have to feel something so warm and pure and wonderful? Seto’s emotional world was a barren one- he never experienced anything like the passion and blissful obliviousness he was witnessing. She was in her own world- a world that her audience could share, if just for a moment.
With some amount of trepidation, Seto pulled at the feelings swelling in his chest. It was...
Was it jealousy? Yes, he was jealous- jealous that he had never been able to feel what Anzu felt then. Jealous that she could have such an effect on his brother without even trying. He had never been more envious in his entire life. It was a painful realization. With blank eyes, he continued to watch her, hypnotized by the way she seemed to smile as she spun...
After the performance, Mokuba insisted upon paying Anzu his respects. He pushed through the crowd quickly, making his way towards her. Seto followed behind at a much more leisurely pace, not at all thrilled to be seeing her. He still felt awkward, though because of what he wasn’t sure. He was faintly concerned about security, though knowing Mokuba that wouldn’t be a problem.
And sure enough, the little enthusiast was already deep in a conversation with the star when Seto reached them. A burly man in black frowned at him as he approached, but Mokuba’s excited waves and Anzu’s polite “Oh! Hello, Kaiba-kun!” were enough to put him at ease.
“Wasn’t she awesome?” Mokuba gushed. Anzu shook her head modestly, but Mokuba went on. “No, it’s true! You really were, Anzu! It was great!” He blushed a little as he said, “I... I really enjoyed watching you.”
Anzu smiled and rumpled his hair. “Well I’m glad you did. I’m really glad you could come.” She glanced surreptitiously towards Seto. “And, uh... Well it was nice of your brother to bring you, wasn’t it?”
That comment annoyed Seto much more than he would have liked to admit.
“Aw, I bet he enjoyed it too.”
Anzu raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Mokuba grinned. “Well no, but he didn’t complain so I guess he wasn’t too miserable.”
Anzu laughed brightly at the boy, and they continued the easy conversation.
Seto watched them, feeling bemused at the way Mokuba could just leap into any conversation topic and run with it. He couldn’t do that- sociability had never been one of his strong suits. And there it was again- that envy he felt before. But then for Mokuba. Mokuba- his own brother! Feeling something akin to embarrassment wash over him, Seto cleared his throat.
“Mokuba,” he said coldly. “We need to go. Tell Mazaki goodbye and let’s be on our way.”
Mokuba sighed. “Alright Seto, I...” He paused, his mouth turning down in a frown. “Oh yeah! Hey, hold on just a second, big brother.” He shoved his hand in his jacked pocket and fumbled around for a second. Then with a triumphant smile he pulled out his prize. “I got this for you, Anzu,” he said nervously, offering her the small trinket in his hand.
It was the head of a rose, as deep-red as the costume she had been wearing earlier.
“Oh,” she breathed, “thank you. It’s beautiful, Mokuba; you’re such a kind boy. Thank you.”
He smiled at her and walked up to Seto. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go!”
And so they did. But on the way home, the only thing Seto could think about was the rose Mokuba gave Anzu, feeling a burning white-hot jealously once again. Because he knew that no matter what, she would never smile like that for him.
~~~
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Color: Red
Sin: Envy
Chapter Title: She Talks to Angels (4/49)
Word Count: 1585
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Red:Envy
Mokuba was almost bouncing out of his seat as the sleek, black limo pulled up to their destination.
“Calm down,” Seto instructed, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “This is a high-class function, and I want you to behave.”
“All right, all right,” Mokuba agreed, nodding as he stared eagerly out the window. “But I’m so excited! It’s going to be great!” He looked at Seto over his shoulder and smiled. “I haven’t seen Anzu in so long- I bet she’s gonna be great! She’s so pretty and smart. And she’s a great dancer, too!”
Seto sighed. “Mokuba. I wasn’t aware you were such a fan of ballet.”
Mokuba’s cheeks heated up. “W-well, I...” He looked down, turning redder. “I-I can like it if I want to.”
Seto refrained from an undignified snort. All the classic symptoms were there: the bashful smiles, the blushing at any mention of her name, the lavish praises bestowed on one who clearly didn’t deserve them. It was obvious that Mokuba had a crush on Mazaki. Even if he didn’t approve- which, of course, he didn’t- Seto didn’t mind humoring his little brother. Nothing could come of it, so there was no harm in a small indulgence. The boy deserved it.
With a discreet nod, the driver opened the door for the two Kaibas. Mokuba scrambled out, wrinkling the small black suit that had been purchased specifically for that occasion. Seto sighed at his brother’s carelessness, but merely blamed the high-spirits of youth. The very ones he had managed to avoid. With a great deal more grace, Seto followed his brother. They presented their tickets and were led to their seats.
“Is it about to start?” Mokuba asked excitedly, fidgeting nervously on the cushy red velvet that covered their chairs. He sat on his hands and bit his lip to contain himself. “Oh, I can’t wait to see Anzu! I bet she’s going to be great! She told me she had a solo, you know; she’s the best dancer ever!”
Seto nodded absent-mindedly, barely listening to his brother’s stream of babble. If Mokuba was that determined to enjoy himself, then far be it from his stuffy older brother to deny him one meager evening’s pleasure. Naturally, Seto was already convinced that he’d be bored with what he was convinced would be- at best- a mediocre performance.
A few minutes later, the lights began to dim. Mokuba smiled eagerly, and focused all his attention towards the stage. (They had a perfect view, of course, as Seto would settle for nothing less than amazing seats.) The conductor lowered his baton and the curtain rose.
As anticipated- by at least one of the on-lookers- the beginning was mildly entertaining but nothing spectacular. Pretty, perhaps; well-staged, even... But certainly nothing more than that.
“Seto,” Mokuba whispered worriedly. “When’s Anzu gonna come on? What if something happened to her? Do you think-“
“Hush,” Seto commanded harshly, leaning in closer to his brother so he could keep his voice low. “The show’s only begun; you’ll see her soon enough.”
And, just as he had said she would, Anzu finally appeared.
Mokuba watched her with rapt attention, his eyes fervently glowing with unconditional adoration. He clearly thought her the most beautiful, marvelous thing on the planet, and nothing could have torn him away. And even though he was far from an expert, even Mokuba could tell that her execution of the routine was nearly flawless. (Seto would later learn that he had even gone to the troubling of studying the dance styles he knew she studied just for the occasion.)
Much to his dismay, Seto found himself forming the same conclusion. Mazaki was not good; Mazaki was excellent. She moved like water: fluid and graceful and smooth. She was graceful, every movement refined. She was light on her feet, moving across air- gliding above the floor as though she was touching it at all.
The dark, crimson-red outfit she wore highlighted her pale skin, adding a splash of color to her movement. The thin, sheer shirt fluttered across her hips, unable to keep up with the fleetness of its wearer.
But the look on her face... The look on her face was like nothing he had ever seen.
Seto had not been brought up to appreciate simple pleasures. He had never been one to stop and admire beauty. Awe was a feeling he never experienced; wonder was completely foreign to him. But seeing the soft smile on Anzu’s face, the eyes that would close in pure pleasure, the obvious joy radiating from her- it made his heart pound.
She was in ecstacy- she was utterly rapturous as she twirled around on the stage. That was why so many people loved to watch her; she was skilled, yes, but it was the pure enjoyment she had for dance that made her performances so amazing. Anyone who saw her could tell immediately that she truly loved what she did. She was in love with dance.
Mokuba gasped in pleased surprise as Anzu suddenly did some sort of complicated spin. (The only move in dance Seto had ever even remotely heard of was a pirouette- and he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly that was.) Seto felt his heart clench at the sight. How did she manage to make Mokuba so happy? Was the joy she radiated contagious? Did Mokuba share her love, catching it just through observation? There was something almost magical about the night, he felt it then. Had he really ever viewed the exquisite creature on the stage with disdain? How could something so unearthly be beneath his notice?
Seto had never experienced feelings like that- he could only imagine how Mazaki felt up there, under the lights, as he had never, ever been privileged enough to feel such a thing himself. What right did she have to be so happy? What right did she have to feel something so warm and pure and wonderful? Seto’s emotional world was a barren one- he never experienced anything like the passion and blissful obliviousness he was witnessing. She was in her own world- a world that her audience could share, if just for a moment.
With some amount of trepidation, Seto pulled at the feelings swelling in his chest. It was...
Was it jealousy? Yes, he was jealous- jealous that he had never been able to feel what Anzu felt then. Jealous that she could have such an effect on his brother without even trying. He had never been more envious in his entire life. It was a painful realization. With blank eyes, he continued to watch her, hypnotized by the way she seemed to smile as she spun...
After the performance, Mokuba insisted upon paying Anzu his respects. He pushed through the crowd quickly, making his way towards her. Seto followed behind at a much more leisurely pace, not at all thrilled to be seeing her. He still felt awkward, though because of what he wasn’t sure. He was faintly concerned about security, though knowing Mokuba that wouldn’t be a problem.
And sure enough, the little enthusiast was already deep in a conversation with the star when Seto reached them. A burly man in black frowned at him as he approached, but Mokuba’s excited waves and Anzu’s polite “Oh! Hello, Kaiba-kun!” were enough to put him at ease.
“Wasn’t she awesome?” Mokuba gushed. Anzu shook her head modestly, but Mokuba went on. “No, it’s true! You really were, Anzu! It was great!” He blushed a little as he said, “I... I really enjoyed watching you.”
Anzu smiled and rumpled his hair. “Well I’m glad you did. I’m really glad you could come.” She glanced surreptitiously towards Seto. “And, uh... Well it was nice of your brother to bring you, wasn’t it?”
That comment annoyed Seto much more than he would have liked to admit.
“Aw, I bet he enjoyed it too.”
Anzu raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Mokuba grinned. “Well no, but he didn’t complain so I guess he wasn’t too miserable.”
Anzu laughed brightly at the boy, and they continued the easy conversation.
Seto watched them, feeling bemused at the way Mokuba could just leap into any conversation topic and run with it. He couldn’t do that- sociability had never been one of his strong suits. And there it was again- that envy he felt before. But then for Mokuba. Mokuba- his own brother! Feeling something akin to embarrassment wash over him, Seto cleared his throat.
“Mokuba,” he said coldly. “We need to go. Tell Mazaki goodbye and let’s be on our way.”
Mokuba sighed. “Alright Seto, I...” He paused, his mouth turning down in a frown. “Oh yeah! Hey, hold on just a second, big brother.” He shoved his hand in his jacked pocket and fumbled around for a second. Then with a triumphant smile he pulled out his prize. “I got this for you, Anzu,” he said nervously, offering her the small trinket in his hand.
It was the head of a rose, as deep-red as the costume she had been wearing earlier.
“Oh,” she breathed, “thank you. It’s beautiful, Mokuba; you’re such a kind boy. Thank you.”
He smiled at her and walked up to Seto. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go!”
And so they did. But on the way home, the only thing Seto could think about was the rose Mokuba gave Anzu, feeling a burning white-hot jealously once again. Because he knew that no matter what, she would never smile like that for him.
~~~
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